QUAINT READER
a quaint reader
a quotidian reader
a quantum reader
whatever ilk
of reader you are
there is something
on the page for you
not so sure
that it professes
to be poetry
counts as a poem
would love to get your feedback
see when I hear from you
if we are both open to all sorts of possibilities
ANTI
don’t like my poem?
is it
a matter of form, style
or theme
or do you find itself
offensive
by its, and to your,
very nature?
Oh, if only poems
could be conduits to
all we feel and need,
and all
we feel we need
entirely!
you
don’t like my poem
well, I’m willing
to stake a bet
that my poem
doesn’t
like you either
much
like a true mirror
much like
Sir Isaac’s great law
about action
eliciting if
not demanding equal
and opposite reaction
perhaps
my poem
exactly did not enjoy
the reading experience
suffered your
reading
badly
put you the wrong end
of the spectrum of
enlightening being-read
experiences
on a readership scale
placing you
closer to
muddy river pebble
than cut
and polished sapphire
closer to worker bee, even ant,
than to Apollo himself
IMPASSE
you glance
at my poem
my poem
looks back at you
into you
you glare
at my words,
suspicion impacted
wondering
what lies beneath, here
we hit an impasse
no way to
resolve this
applying the protocols,
rules, regulations
of current civilization
unless image
by image, symbol
by symbol,
together it is
we negotiate this page
trade, vent, share,
exchange
for the sake
of the poem
refract, reflect,
rescind, do what
we both do best,
perform
a whole number
full-on optics and chemistry
without these
no hope for any preservation
of mere mortal remains
HOPEFULLY
wrote this poem
to change your perspective
change your
point of
view
rewire
your brain
nothing too
intrusive, nothing
too extreme
nowhere near anything
like District 9, with
what happened to Wickus
though
when it comes
to seeing things differently
hopefully, pretty
much the same
TEST SUBJECT
you think
of this as
entertainment
I think of it
as a test
want to check you
out as you
navigate
stanzas
negotiate
words
to find out
whether you
have what
it takes
to read a poem
as
from the
beginning of time
readers have
read
a poem
doing poem
reading things
whether
you be
human
or
are a
poetry loving machine.
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
poems 2 die for