ACCORDING TO PLAN
far on the left
could equally
have been
far
on the right
or, indeed,
betwixt and between
crying in
the wilderness
centre of the Earth
out in the void
beyond
every known galaxy
thinking thoughts (for
what else can I do?)
dreaming up
five year
ten year
billion year plans
everything so fat
end to beginning
beginning
to end
not going
according to plan
APOLLO
rocket
to the Moon
rocket
saying Hi, dropping
into my
back yard
bringing my own
private star, billion
degree
Sun
same rocket
rocket
men
rode to the Moon
(bouncing, buggying around
scenic drive
one small
step for man)
same as the one that
took out my house, my
tiny lawn
like the eggs on the stove
I was cooking when
it came
to pay
a visit, pay
its respects
popping, exploding in
that red-hot thermonuclear pan
I was
well and truly Sun god fried
APOLLO
rocket
to the Moon
rocket
saying Hi, dropping
into my
back yard
bringing my own
private star, billion
degree
Sun
same rocket
rocket
men
rode to the Moon
(bouncing, buggying around
scenic drive
one small
step for man)
same as the one that
took my house, my
tiny lawn
like the eggs on the stove
I was cooking when
it came
to pay
a visit, pay
its respects
I was
truly fried
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA
the cabin I once graced
now lies
at the bottom of the sea
seems it was something
of a cursed vessel
and where I am now
this semi-desert
an inland ocean once
paleontology
has determined
in the long long view
that tingle tremble
beneath your feet
may
at the end of the day
be a matter truly
tectonic
I almost drowned
on a ship
in sea water
the day before
it docked in harbour
thought I could swim
just sail majestically
across the water
me being
most water
of all the water signs
sank
like a stone, a thing
of lead
thought wrong
somehow feel that this is
not the last
episode in
an ongoing saga
me,
and the bottom of the sea
NOTE TOWARDS A SNOWFLAKE APPRECIATION SOCIETY
Why should I not
appreciate a snowflake
(such a lovely
devil
in that detail)
melting
on my tongue, between
my fingers
each one
unique
cold,
precise
I guess one
might argue
superior in
every way to
a poem
even
a poem about
snowflakes
YAMA
yam a
mammal not
a vegetable
not
a mineral
be a breast-sucker
that tugs, tugs, tugs
neatly strangled
at birth
by the cord
that bound me
gave me
my connection until
snip, snip, snap
smart smack to
my derrière to
help rush the Os
to my brain
and now
have these death-
fearing words pouring
out of
me like crazy
seeking
the Great Spirit
which is why
rove the plains
on
back of RV
or in
caterpillar-tracked weapon
it is
being much in my nature
to be always about death
find space
to roam
CRYPTIC
rearranged the furniture
in my head
(a few dry walls
had to knock out)
started to resemble
a mausoleum
which
so startled me
ended up
forgetting entirely
about my bed
and how and why
ended up in
the first place
fighting with this allegory
but did sleep
and collided with
all I had
moved and misplaced
throughout
my dream
in dream
no GPS no
proximity scream
things as they present themselves
could hardly be
more cryptic
ORIGIN STORY
I have totally
equipped this poem
for survival
to be a
lean,
mean
break-
dancing machine
sharp in tooth
incredibly soft in paw entirely.
PLAGUE
after years of boarding
and other water torture
he wrote his poems
to continue
the struggle
ease
his pain
avoiding
the word “raindrop”
like the plague
CHAIN
For you, Sir,
who have
seen been everything
and so much besides
I am here to announce
my bright design:
a
Seraph
in a clam
can
evolve to
the summit
Sirrah,
can do what it can
cutting out
the middle man
whose passes
everything up
down
down
up
in the chain
of command
poems 2 die for