reader – poems 2 die for

MEASURE

measure this poem
give it substance
give it
a location

somewhere in that
relativized field
of space slash time

slash everything you
have ever read your
brain is filtering through
to bring
you ready to go
find , see yourself
in this quintessential moment

as for me
I will just look back
on the process
that brought
me here
put me on
this page

a ghostly presence
a whispered voice
a teasing
play of
sound and sense

only clue
to you
I may have
found my way
to drop a
hint
of life,
suggestion of
touch

put
this as
hypothesis
of length and breadth
and depth
and time

somewhat
transparently
before you

ENOUGH

managed to scrape together
enough time
to write this poem
which none
of you are going to read
I could not be more convinced

the days of carving, shaping,
wordsmithing lines
together

seem so
long gone, irrelevant now,

sweet for the stuff
they wrote in
a bygone age
Medieval, Renaissance,
Romantic, Victorian
and
mind-
bending modern
or shamelessly
meta and (self) reflexive
decidedly
post-modernist

EASY

sit back
take it easy

but let me know
when I happen or
indeed contrive to
infringe upon or
let alone
trample upon
principles

upset
all your apple carts
or wreck your
comfort zone

aside from that
no words are necessary

let
nothing said here.
spoil your enjoyment
nothing here
disturb your stay

CAVEAT

do not read to deeply
unless lurking
here

you locate
an

abyss

or stumble across
a

v
o     r
             t
   e
          x

get effaced

disappear off this page

victim of reading with
just too
much focus

outrageously appropriate
imagination

if you
got here unscathed
you obviously
ingested my
caveat

read with a standard lack
of acuity and
image identification

but for those
readers truly blessed, soul
brothers sisters
who did
not get this far
to share
this moment

falling, as I do,
by the wayside, amongst
thorns,
slap bang
in the middle between
Scylla and
Charybdis

as is my
proclivity
on a
perpetual basis

take my hand
dear deep denizens too

RPG

let’s
RPG this
poem

the algorithm
summoning us
bringing us together
leading
you to me
with a purpose

imagine it,
this thing here,
rewiring your brain
fixing those circuits

expanding your consciousness
maximally until
it explodes out
your skull

turning you into
a player, sublime
role creator
true high-five ace
of a destiny shaper

feisty, and as deadly
as a rocket-propelled grenade

targeted at everything
smug and
confident, no idea
how horribly
armour – piercing
you are
have
become

zeroing in on
all you
now believe

you are so within your rights
to love to hate

ON THE PAGE

looking back in time
at this poem
(coming at
you at the speed of light)

could have hit you
aeons, days, five
minutes ago

causing me to wonder
how
(by virtue of what
dark arts) you can
tell yourself
you profess to see me

so much history (your history)
necessary to compute
need to
shuffle through

before you
have any notion of
how to
answer

when I ask what I am
how you
found me
on the page

LITTLE FRIEND

here
we are

facing off against
each other
across
unwritten
white spaces

no idea
what to expect

and me taking
the initiative
weaponizing
this encounter

(taking
my cue

from Pacino
in “Scarface”)

demanding you
get
into the poem

say hello
to my little friend

AS CLOSELY AS I AM DOING NOW

AS CLOSELY AS
I AM. DOING NOW

how can I
become

a poem?

unless you observe me

but
how can I
know, feel,
see

you observing me
unless
you tell
me

best way to do this
is to figure it as metaphor
imagine
we are
each other’s
twin slit experiment

write me
a poem
by way of return
that I might
embody

but how to
become a poem, your poem,
unless
I observe you

you let
me observe you observing
me simultaneously

as closely as I can be said
to be in fact doing now

as closely as I am doing now

DEAD

trust me, it’s complicated,
but if you
are reading this poem
you cannot
be dead

maybe
not quite alive
but cannot be dead

no paradox here
neither the trivial
nor the magical

just a philosophical aside
regarding your
spiritual condition

not alive perhaps
but not yet, definitely
not yet
not completely dead

so many
I know (have the pleasure)
would argue
totally gone
do not yet realize
it
but beyond the pale
dead

but
step up
to the mike

and give me
your best whisper

here I feel, hear
breath, am certain I feel breath

BEYOND (THE SIN IN CAPSAICIN)

heard you got
an endorphin high
reading
my poe
found every syllable
a green red orange
capsaicin démon
scalding your tongue

wafting you up on
the wings of those breezy
dreamy
pain-deadening chemicals
of your
own vintage and special
manufacture

carrying you effortlessly
into the bluest of beyonds