OFT TIMES TIGER
oft
I just have to
for my sacred sanity
to open its age
let my inner tiger
take me out for a walk
unsheathe its claws
a la William Blake
roar down the footpath
looking for like souls
boundless Emily Dickinson
full-on Rimbaud
surging out the woods licensed
to do certain delicious damage
and then
sated, wrapped,
ghosting back way it came
back to the threshold
tall grass again
SNAKE
I am snake
always
curled up
somewhere
reading
William Blake
sticking out
my tongue at you
— no disrespect!
only to
taste
what your molecules
say
what they
wish to do
we can slip past, evade
each other,
not a problem, perfect
solution
unless
you set on gleaning
a smidgen of
my wisdom
wish
to dance; wish to talk
BACKSTAGE
I miss
my bonfire nights
Guy Fawkes
V for Vendetta
think I must be
a backstage ghost
martyred for my art
my belongings
my papers
all being
diced over
that every dissident of note
be hung and drawn,
thereafter quartered
taken by the State
to be
their God-
given right
and me imagining
the soft impact of
William Blake finding
his way
into Parliament
talking innocence and
experience
in his maiden speeches
subverted the empty
discourse of contract
and divime royal right.
EYES ONLY
wealth is quasar
wealth is
ball of frozen ammonia
titanic ringed would be
archetype of
liquid methane gas
wealth is the paradox out there
for your, my, our,
their
eyes only
wealth is ever spiralling
golden fractal pattern
is, as Blake did put it
universe of mystery
in a
grain of sand
THAT WILLIAM BLAKE CHARACTER
saw that William
Blake character
on social media
disagreed about the war
had a few sharp words
fresh from this exchange
looked him up
found
not a word on Wikipedia
save a reference to a character
in a Jim Jarmusch film
which seriously flustered me
for I had got this notion
into my head
about this far from prototypical
radical
early nineteenth century
English Romantic poet
but seems it is all a myth, a false flag,
huge disinformation
which
stands to reason,
for if there were really
a Songs of Innocence and
a Songs of Experience
think how
different the world would be
poems 2 die for