poetry – Page 178 – poems 2 die for

ZIZEK STORY

ZIZEK STORY

Slavoj and I
sat in the street

swopping jokes about
philosophers
and the end
of the world

polucemn came
full
defensive armour
told

us
to.move on.

How we laughed
when the asteroid hit him.
Asteroid as big
ss the city itself.

JUKEBOX

JUKEBOX

we had love
hard and soft love together

in my dreams
or maybe
your dream

difficult to say
how must claim authorship,
location and territory

so receptive our separate states
given you
had been studying a
painting by Miro,
I, for my part, reading
Neruda

poetry from a time when
Communism was sexy
full of the surreal
and carnival
potential

and Professot Slavoj Zizek,
archetype of
Lacanian pessimist

was young in years, wet
behind the ears

little more to speak of
than mere
slip of a
Slovenian lad

Prince’s sign of the times

        song on
the jukebox before
                              we
did
   our dance

GHOST STORY

GHOST STORY

a perfect storm

winds from the East
winds from the South
converge

tearing through the streets
making a nonsense of your hopes
of a full
Mediterranean side-
walk café life

sipping a latte, sitting in the Sun
reading Proust or Sartre

nothing in those books
talk about
how the ghosts, the sins,
have caught
up
with you
(at least none
that you do read
none that you can see)

FORWARD

FORWARD

push
the clocks forwards
ten thousand years

see
what happens

if nothing, the world is unchanged
the feared nuclear
apocalypse
never happened

or it did
and only

set us back
ten thousand years

LINES

LINES

making love
to you

I forget
my lines

feel forced
to ad lib
ex-
temporize

make it
up as along this sweet
hot wet
tightly twist-
ing road
we go

garbling all
the poetry

OF LIFE

Not impressed
by my own
sexual selfishness

how ai throw myself into this
finding redemption
in your ypung body

clinging to that ecstasy
forever
pleaaure

dew
of life.

PLAN

PLAN

I storm:
hit the alarm!

much turbulence
no free gliding, plain sailing

listen
to the wind becoming
more sharply focused

everything rocking soon:
one humongous concert

hell’s angels
          making sure
everything
        strictly ordered: the madness
     the chaos

all going to plan

NEW YEAR

NEW YEAR

that tree
in the garden
was full of bees

feared their stings
more than anything

house full of honey
got so stuck
in honey throughout my life

for some reason
am not good as viscous, do not
do viscous

hope one day though
that will change
though,
to be frank
running out of days
.
last night I returned from
a place of much that is unconditional

snatched at the curtain
as night fell
caught a shooting star

seemed like a moment of
divine needle work

last stitch to connect, maybe
whole new thread

so close
to new year

HYMN

HYMN

Move on
move on

nothing here
cruel and unusual

play
with your mantra
sing your beads

tanks and missiles
on the Holy Mountain

so much
sand for your mandsla
here where
deepest dug in.

AND THEN

and then
there waa
no choice
no option

fate had decided
desire complied

we fell into it
this thing pleasure
embraced it
until we
got saturated

knew yout
until i could know you
no more deeply

but here
there is always more
aleays more deeply

oceans of detail
to touch, taste, feel

savour until the Sun
ghe Moon, the day; the dawn,
time itself dissolve

everything but you
just disappears

and then