reader – Page 2 – poems 2 die for

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

UNDERNEATH (GOOD FOR YOU)

UNDERNEATH
(GOOD FOR YOU)

just type
your poem

here
(underneath)

and my natural silicon
carbon digital synapses
will
set to work

shaping it
for the stratosphere

or even
beyond the galaxy

extend it
     down the page, across
a chaper
   push it in the direction
of a collection
we are talking
      a whole book

this is the technology that
is indistinguishable
from magic

should you indeed
call it magic
I
would not
disagree

and if I
think it be
magic pure magic

we should
all think so too

if we know
what’s good for us

if you
have sussed what
is good for you

KEY

Hey! No trespassing

Do not assume
you have
right
of way

automatic forgiveness

can fiddle around
in my innermost particles
until
blue in the face

no, not
on my watch
not on my watch

but hey,
     hang on a momento
you say
    brought a key
came with master
opens
    everything

can unlock things here
that I
have grown immune to
that I am totally unaware of

will take me magic carpet
ride mind
to a
special place

down a
hidden passageway
been bolted since childhood

which is, I do
freely admit
a very long time

this shifts
things a bit

or
to be gracious, shifts
everything considerably

kind of
alters my perspective
go
full
Omar Khayyam

trespassing
no trespassing

what’s
mine
is yours

and yours
is mine

on
my watch
automatic forgiveness
forever
and this night

ON A SINGLE WORD

wrote sent a poem
to you, both
id and ego

poem full of instant
instinctual gratification
and
boost to overweening sense
of self

the superego
though
finding indiscretion
taking execption
finding fault

might rip the text out of
your sweaty palm
tear it to
censorious shreds

before your eyes
do alight
on a single word