AGAIN

Tags

Consciousness, poem, poetry, time, Universe

AGAIN

woke
refused to believe
I had been asleep
for a billion years

woke
saw the goddess
fell
in love

was refused

begged
to sleep for
a billion years again

LITTLE OLD ME

Tags

cosmic horror, event horizon, Horror, metapoetic, poem, poetry

LITTLE OLD ME

I was
watching Event
Horizon

which was a bit
strange and
ultimately scary

because there was
no screen, no film,
no DVD player
or DVD

just me
in the ship
watching the horror
descend upon
the characters

wondering if the
evil thing the gravity drive
had summoned
up from an alternate
universe’s chaotic dimension

could be
none other
than little old me

ALIEN POETRY BOTH BIG AND SMALL

Tags

alien. writing, Metaphysical, Multiverse, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, Universe

ALIEN POETRY BOTH BIG AND SMALL

Uppercase, lowercase
Alien poetry is
both

BIG
and
small

smaller than
a sliver of shortest wavelength

yet
big enough
to condense the Multiverse
to the size
of a period, or
semi-colon

were it that
the poem ever stops

were that
it ever ends

ENOUGH

Tags

erotic, poem, poetry

ENOUGH

I am going
to carpet bomb you
with kisses

such a quick
moving target
so slender
in shape

so many misses
but
just one
hit

was
enough

(Oh, the
beautiful damage!)

WHATEVER

Tags

Cosmology, innuendo, Möbius strip, poem, poetry, the Universe, twist, woman

WHATEVER

kitchen is the best
place for cosmology

bubbles, suds, microwaves,
caramelization in and on the stove

not hard to see
links here to the
history of the
infant cosmos
(Job riding
on the back
of God
that he might see)

as kettle whistle, frying pan crackles
I think of what single theory
might avail us of the power
to put it
all together

valid for whatever star, planet
in the Universe, within
whatever galaxy
under whatever flag
(the politics of flags
always crimping
my humanity)

and
to give it all
a twist

the beauty of woman
when it
comes to topography

her Möbius strip identity
itself the
riddle

perfect
mathematical twist

NOT YET A CINDER

Tags

Apocalypse, Ending, Global warming, poem, poetry, TS Eliot

NOT YET A CINDER
“Questa flamma staria
senza piu scosse.”
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

not yet a cinder
pretty slow as they come
and go
these extinction level events

meanwhile
in my state of Kafkasque squalor
the walls sweat cockroaches

their very presence a reminder
of my failings, every masculine inadequacy
my parents so loving to instill

outside, inside
difference in landscape
no difference
in temperatures

my brain
about to ignite
thinking of the third law (no
holy trinity, sacred trilogy)
heat-death inevitability with
which the cosmos
destined to end

and, speaking of entropy, of modernist wastelands,
a poet adding up columns
in the bowels of a bank

oh, his head is somewhere else,
spinning requiems for drowned souls
for wounded Kings
whole mythographies

here
writing on
his birthday, feeling that something
rather miraculous
is rising out of his words, has
begun to
shadow speak to me

history, as the man from Trier said,
so
spectral in its truth, so
ruthless with
all memory

and now
the shadow is mine

nothing of this suppressed flesh
can
pull me back to
the Sun’s flared heart

fuel for
the mistaken thought
that in
the burning, boiling, passing
of all was loved, spoken,
written, thought

no great
continuity

TO DECEIVE

Tags

female, loss, love, Metaphor, Metaphysical, philosophical, poem, poetry, sexual symbolism, wordplay, writing

TO DECEIVE

wanted to
read you like
a book

but there were
missing pages,
no final chapter

so I decided
to write you
Ike a book

one in which
I am not
even a
character

and, as
sort-of-
antiheroine
your dialogue
disappoints, actions
flatter
to deceive

MASK

Tags

identity, masks, metapoetic, poem, poetry, postmodern, poststructuralist, psychology

MASK

do not
take, read
this poem
at face
value

or get tangled
in that no man’s/
no woman’s land
between
the lines

as you look
into the eyes of
the speaker
you see the
visage changing
face aging

but this is
just the illusory
effect of
time
of history

so many masks
for you to uncover
fresh selves
to negotiate

there
at my feet:
the great chest
they are housed in
that contains them

nothing left
here
to see

when the
last mask is removed

HINGE

Tags

copyright, Creativity, Desire, Dream, Freedom, intellectual property, knowledge, Law, legal, poem, poetry, surreal

HINGE

infringed intellectual property
broke the
copyright agreement

with the stuff
that came to me
in my dream
is still
coming in
fulfillment of some
or other message

revelation about
the Universe, the world,
myself
or you

your mind and body seemingly
graciously able and willing
to share
that surreal space

in which images are twisted, inverted,
turned inside out

snake surreptitiously, glide
gracefully

revealing so much

if only I had
the language to express

but these are all stolen
purloined
perhaps even sometime smash-n-grab
acts of outright theft

but
having come so far, confided so much
we can
negotiate the legalities

on the table: your truth, your
sweet, sweet truth on which
everything here would
seem to hinge

TO THE POINT

Tags

evolution, Metaphysical, Naughty, poem, poetry, Twist in the tail

TO THE POINT

It took my species
millions of years
to evolve to the point where
our brains developed
perceptual algorithms
to allow
us to
see

what I see now: you
standing before me
umming and aaaing
from foot to
foot
shifting uncomfortably

millions of years to
get to this point
where I can see
you perfectly and
yet

you refuse
to recognize this
miracle of
perceptual evolution

deign
to take
your clothes off