ON HOLD

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ON HOLD

I have put my desire on hold
all those needs to
squeeze you tightly up against me
whisper sweet and crazy stories
before it gets time
for lullabies

no today I am putting myself
totally at your service
will feed you, heal you,
make you so very well
so better than well
I had convinced myself that
this was within
my range, no
limit here to my capacity

could tend to you emotionally,
physically, spiritually
like a Saint

but then the word
“physical” got my
brain fuming, head spinning
for then, of
course that would imply
careful, tender washing

each and
every
part

so many
too many

lines here

of least resistance.

ANNAPURNA

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ANNAPURNA

“you can never climb in vain”
Nietzsche

let us not
be too quick
to pooh pooh slow

we being creatures
of instant energy conversion
dreaming of light velocity

no, it’s slow and steady
when it comes to
giant mountains

what began with whim
continued with supreme conviction
in the time to see
it through

present us
with a challenge

whose conquest is about
the testing of our mettle, taming
of our being

seeing if
we are up

for hero’s journey
where the climb
gets
vertical

when the philosophy of life
flies so
far off base, soars

so
high

you’ll need pure
oxygen to
come to terms with
its deadly levity

QUITE FOUCAULT

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QUITE FOUCAULT

“When the moon is on the Seventh House”
“Aquarius” (from the musical/ film “Hair”)

some years ago
it was
happened to lose
my rock star hair

but it didn’t go entirely
now seems to
be growing
inside me

more forest or
indeed jungle
covering everything
that was
transparent
obvious and
clear

hard to find
that faith again

in things just
as they appear

K99B

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K99B

“buggier than batshit”
Philip K Dick

downtown Tokyo
(not sure if it was TOKYO B66
or TOKYO C67)
a drug-addled psychic
grabbed me
said “listen, bitch
godda gedda grip”

then disappeared
(magic being the
art of
pure distraction)

and so
they were throwing Jesus bombs
up and down the street
would like to say
that for you, my dear,
I caught and saved one

but it wouldn’t be true
not even
mythologically
certainly
not spiritually

and as for me and you, is
there any truth more questionable
than ones we
presume sexual?

(Nietzsche and Bukowski’s ghost-like grins
signalling approval
I shoe them away
no time for dead prophets
or
homeless people)

before long they had latched onto me
sex-selling Androids, because I fit the profile
(nothing capitalism cannot do
when it finds its
imagination)
and of course, retina-scanning my memory
then all
shapeshifted accordingly, enterprisingly
into form quite like you

same eyes, hair voice and
obviously skin colour

but as for
more intimate details, well
then I’d have to
ransack my account, push up
debts payable

and what fun is it really
what joy in the afterglow

cuddling with steel and fiberglass framed
as binary equation?

advertisements for this that and the other
as room-sized holograms, projected, freely given

somewhere someone
having had a huge brain-wave
regarding those on the edges
margins of
the system
how they
might be brought home, brought in
to the centre, the heart
be perfectly aligned

this
in downtown Tokyo or
Detroit or
Johannesburg

Johannesburg D55
or K 99B

SUBTRACT ME

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SUBTRACT ME

would that you would
subtract me, retract me

not divide
nor subdivide me

so divisive when
you do so
whether long
or short

or all the way down
to the absurdum of
lowest
common denominator

assigning
minus sign

my neck hung around
like dog in the proverb
taking my preordained place
in the negative
column

this negative space
what
in my
case
could be
more iconic?

where better
to split hairs, split atoms
balance
the equation?

countermand the stridency of
ego as infinity
absolutely plus one

though if we were to
deconstruct, go descant
suddenly
sing a tangent

from cheap
seat in the margins

(for which always the poetic risk
of becoming drawn, and quartered)

full-throat the love
that is such a
tough customer
when it
come to quantification

that sweetest voice
not always disembodied

even if
counterintuitive, counterfactual,
beyond definition

and yet
still mathematical

as it carves me up
as you
carve me
up
as you always do

me and you together
not a simple matter of
multiplication or
addition
thing in my
brain
going back to Plato
back to Pythagoras

my hand on
your hypotenuse
saying it
“does not compute”

BLACK PAPER

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BLACK PAPER

the stars unpeeled
like the were
stuck to cellophane
or black paper

they pushed them
into flags, attached
them to
the wings of planes

soon the Earth
will explode
like a star
not a flag
or a plane left

and not a
cookie-cutter poem
scissored out
of nowhere

will then
remain to
stand before you
reeking of
verbal subterfuge
idle
propaganda

masquerading as
just marks
in ink
in book
or parchment

cookie-cuttered out
from that world of
so what?

of
well, yes, but
what does it say?

BENEATH K2

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BENEATH K2

I kiss your breasts
am
in free fall

no rope
no umbilical cord
linking me to
the Mother of
Heaven

only the rich, really rich
get to climb K2

breathe the roof of the world
as bottled oxygen

only the dead
get to write their names
on the mountain
bind their tin-plate plaques
to the rock

time, wind, snow and ice
will efface, erode,
swap away

WROTE THE TEXT

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WROTE THE TEXT

wrote the text
then kicked the planet

text grew despite
(or because of) my absence
generating the most astonishing
associative connections

faster than a nuclear
chain reaction

but cooler, more homely,
and yet
when I turned back
(as in the Lot story)
to check on my
former planet
(home to
all my memories)

but it had
turned its back on me
so much chagrin, distaste
for the way in
which I denigrated
all
that blue beauty

can blind you
to all the stuff there
crying out to
be written about