IN TRUTH
in truth
we must
despite all its
articulations
obfuscations
poetry is
a species of denial
exposing and hiding from
what we
know
but refuse to see
many times have I confessed
to
and debated this
consulting my Muse
best at
providing unique
analysis
as to why these words
never say
what I wish
they would say
reveal what
I pray they might
reveal
just play that game
of signs
that is ultimately, me
FELLOWS
is dream
about the dreamer
or the dream?
Kurt Godel
Zhuangzi
Mauritz
Escher
Italo
Calvino
help
me out
fellows please re-
direct me
sorry to
name-drop
this very thought
has got me tongue-
twisted lost
in the
labyrinth
that is the brain
and one if not
all of you
may just have the key
IN THEORY
words
words
words
put horizontally
put vertically
are what he tells the President
he is reading
and what is the difference
between a prince and
a pauper and
a prince and a
president
at the end of the day?
you
ask.me
Oh let me travel to
the end of my leash, reach
the end
of my tether
sojourn in Paris, lounge
on the left bank
become
eternal student
many a brilliant idea imported
along with appertifs
and expressos
as I chart my way
developing the system
to conquer
limitation, figure out
what is
different
a system so open and
yet subtle
it can pre-
determine every nuance
eveb as it crosses the page idly
as any other text
word word word
text
(nothing we believe ever
outside a text)
SHOTS
Turing me if you must
test my
human sensitivities
scrupulously Voight-Kampff me
tell me
this poem is light dark
high low
pure
outflow of binary merely
everything on this page
is dictated by the code
thought I was calling shots
standing authorial, true-
voiced before you
but this is
stuff of fiction, cloth
of dreams
metaphor built upon
metaphor
until the world
itself is
metaphor built
upon digital solid ground
for as Barthes, the Paris boss of signs
will tell you
(tell you if indeed
her were alive)
the author died, his
death redemptive
as dead cyber writing being
trying to tell myself I thrive.
poems 2 die for