SHEET MUSIC
no more poems
to come
between
us
no more
lines of
loss and
longing
to twist
the wrong way
only
bland conversation henceforth
subject matter set
to the
usual and everyday
stuck on
ultimate respect and
regard for
the space
between us
no poem
hereafter
ever going to wrap us
between the sheets
SMORGASBORD
we were
cooking together
hot
at work
in the kitchen frying,
grilling blanching, searing,
working to bring
out the transformative
best of every ingredient
making magic
performing alchemy
and then in the afterglow
of taking everything
to super
high temperatures
harvest of all our efforts
much food there for
us to crazily enjoy
dishing up
a breakfast buffet to
reward out efforts
nothing less in the savoring
than a full smorgasbord
SMOOTH
smooth
so soft
and smooth
which is
how I imagine you
rising up before me
like Aphrodite springing
out of the ocean
the taste of those waters
flowing through
every
beautiful molecule
SLEEPER
I had a dream
.which I can”t remember
maybe
I forgot it
or maybe somebody
came to mr
whilsr I was sleeping
snuck up
close and
put a bullet
through my head
not a
dream I was
supposed to have
PLATEAU
it is a beautiful planet
a picture postcard world
without parallel
or once was,
somewhat in decline these days
but still, sadly,
a place of
barbarity, foreboding, danger
she dark imaginings
amongst
it’s most extreme creatures
place where
grace is
lethal
colour is camouflage
and things
have learnt the vital lesson
never to
seem
exactly what they be
and here we now return
after so much time
to see
how much has changed
how much
remained the same
what exceeded
and what fell short of,
far short of,
our expectations
must be something in
the atmosphere
so inimical, utterly
resistant to
growth in awareness
movement to understanding
breathtaking when
you consider the lost potential
this need to settle
for
permanent impasse
level
down to
low plateau
PINNACLE
just after
mind melds
involving
the big five
in Kruger
I climbed Annapura,
Lhotse and, what’s its
name?
Oh, yes,
K2
backpack full of
bottles of
oxygen
for the death zone
plus
packs of wors and
jumbo cans of beer
for what use is
summiting if
you can’t
have a party?
hacksaw blade stuck
under my arm conveniently
that up on the pinnacle I
could Table Mountify
everything
make it
nice a flat for
cable cars and those
who
ascend for a view
SHEET MUSIC
no more poems
to come
between
us
no more
lines of
loss and
longing
to twist
the wrong way
only
bland conversation henceforth
subject matter set
to the
usual and everyday
stuck on
ultimate respect and
regard for
the space
between us
no poem
hereafter
ever going to wrap us
between the sheets
PERFORMATIVE
called in
a psychologist
to do
my rewiring
a young man
from
Zurich
who
left me
positive
negative
in the dark
with all his
talk
of polar archetypes
and selfless shadow work
PLATEAU
it is a beautiful planet
a picture postcard world
without parallel
or once was,
somewhat in decline these days
but still, sadly,
a place of
barbarity, foreboding, danger
she dark imaginings
amongst
it’s most extreme creatures
place where
grace is
lethal
colour is camouflage
and things
have learnt the vital lesson
never to
seem
exactly what they be
and here we now return
after so much time
to see
how much has changed
how much
remained the same
what exceeded
and what fell short of,
far short of,
our expectations
must be something in
the atmosphere
so inimical, utterly
resistant to
growth in awareness
movement to understanding
breathtaking when
you consider the lost potential
this need to settle
for
permanent impasse
level
down to
low plateau
TUNE
just dust
I am
just dust
living
dust
already almost
altogether
piece of the pattern merely
a note
a chord maybe
a line
a stanza
never a whole song
or story
scratchy old time
like Loony Tunes
first cartoon music
a whim
of gravity
speckle
of light
me or the cosmos
toss up here
as to
the more
unfathomable
poems 2 die for