YES YANIS

YES YANIS

“the surreal colonizing the real”
                     Yanis Varoufakis

Columbus would have made it
if he had not traded
his ships in for jet skis
and surf boards

would have made it
to the Pacific
if he had not
stopped off in DC
to watch the
Army Navy game

his progress tracked
by GPS satellite, with
constant updates on
FOX, CNN and
alternate media
(outside Columbia and
MIT braves from
the seven nations having
set up
protest encampments)

Zadie so worried
whether her hypothetical
Zionist student would
not be bound
to feel aggrieved, suffer
horrific identity collapse

if hole in your vessel
easy to find a plug in DC
use a member of the house

the Hatter would tell Christopher
as the tenor got weirder
and the teapots all ran out
tea enough
   still perhaps
after a previous party
floating in the harbour, but
for a great teapot at
this time of writing, a
wanderer did inform him,
you might
have to consult Boeing and
the military
     industrial complex

Ah, the logic, the methodology,
suffice it to say, pure area 51
pure Man Ray,

pure
    little girl without arms
bullet
through her head this
tale of Wonderland
is not about

you came to these shores and did
not expect to find palaces
did not expect to
encounter castles
golden dubloons maybe,
perhaps
    a golden gate bridge

but not a landscape of
golf course and tenement
and cloud
    saturated with capital

dodging those Lakota arrowheads

they said that
here there

would be no King
everybody would be a king
as
   many kings on deck
as playing cards

Christopher somehow now
up in the Rockies inside
the Overlook Hotel

ghostly overseer Stanley
whispering in his ear
an adage that
    colonization is

the heart
of the horror

colonization
       the name
of the original sin

Yes, Yanis
      still waiting for the cartoon
version of what I scribbled
down here

have commissioned Salvador Dali
have pleaded with Picasso

BIDEN

BIDEN

Last night I dreamt
I was at Kubrick’s
Overlook Hotel

arguing over
who had prior
right to a suite
with your venerable
President, Joe Biden.

Eventually, after much
negotiation, offer
and counter-offer,
we decided to share
for iut was my dream,
my homeground,
I held the moral
highground and he
had his
military-industrial complex
and Israel lobby
to push his case

eventually we
amicably settled
upon equitable time-
share
or splitting the suite
exactly down the middle

with respect for
each other’s human rights,
legal interest and sense
of constitutional democracy

conscious
that conflict nakes no sense
when time edging us
both
   out of the historical frame

death, electoral defeat or
both (for our sins and
wrongly
   lived life)  looming
huge on our respective horizons

which, in his case,
would give me much
     Schadenfreude

see him
swept away divinely defeated
in dubious rapture

me in the Gold Room sipping
some extravagant concoction
mixed by
     some ghost barman
who kmows his stuff

him and me
chatting about the hotel
as a metaphor for history
and what it means
to come
  to consciousnesz in
Kubrick’s mind

make your way
into such a deep, multilayered film



STUCK

STUCK

stuck a mirror
on the wall

opposite
the shelves
containing
my kingly
horror collection

clown
down the drain
Jack so dull
when the words
not flowing

wonder
     what bricked up
behind these booksp
(technically closet
skeleton can
never
read
its reflection)

mirroring these spines
such a blessing
              that when I die
they
   will not need
to search
to find whereupon
           read

scare themselves
                to death