AM I?

Tags

Humanity, identity, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, relativity, science, writing

AM I?

am I
dead

or am
I alive?

relative time:
I am
snail

the rest of
the world

is shooting
star

is hurtling past
me making
my clock
go fast

(only angels
travelling
beyond the
speed of light)

GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION

Tags

Desire, physics, poem, poem poetry political moral, poetry, Sexual, wordplay

GRAVITY OF
THE SITUATION

what warping gravity
blessed you
with such curvature?

and yet
it is all
so relative

limited by the
flow of
desire

rippling through the channel
of space-time itself

bringing home to
me
needle rising
counter counting

the gravity
of the situation

WHAT DISSOLUTION TO FEAR

Tags

absurdism, Consciousness, existential, Humanity, identity, meaning, Metaphysical, philosophical, physics, poem, poetry, wordpla

WHAT DISSOLUTION TO FEAR?

School’s shut
leaving me
in a philosophical vacuum

a nebula of molecules separated
by oceans of emptiness

like they pumped all
the oxygen out, all
the hydrogen, nitrogen,
methane, chlorine, and
every inert gas

and so I tell myself
my name is not Gogo
I am
more than
pure space, simple
intellectual abstraction

my molecules, in theory,
according to the theoretical model,
smeared
all over the place

by the weakest of
forces
held together

free to
skip class, play
truant

wander
all over the place

leaving me nothing
one of
the
99%

who look up
to the rest

covet such lives
of substance and stability

and yet
everything to
fight for

from
humanity
detached

and same it is, but different, with
these words on the page
(once — no, not really — words
in my mouth)

nothing solid there — all relation and
difference, symbol and
myth making

those old stories recycled
you’ve heard them before, wired
into your brain

layer upon layer
perhaps this is how air
how
breath contrives meaning

like
folded origami (suddenly shape
and dimension)
like
weapon of hierarchy in
folded samurai
steel

and I have, if you would bear with me, tried
folding
this page, these words, that

they might
fill my space, create
fiction of being

that you and I
could buy into

paradoxically, our life-stuff to clear
distinct to us
when most merged
most near

and with this
softest assurance

what
dissolution to fear?

SMEAR

Tags

Alien, Apocalypse, meaning, mind, poem, poetry, religion, Space, supernova, Unverse

SMEAR

someone, something
must have smeared stars out
across the Universe

outer space so full of explosions
nothing in
inner space
that really corresponds

such upheavals
reserved for our television sets
cities with ancient, Biblical names
burning in the desert

it is karma, it is
what they wished, it is
their own fault

in every human religion
God taking sides

and still we are nowhere near
the apocalypse we long for
that bomb the species was born with
as soon as
we knew time
in final countdown, ticking, ticking

Oh that beautiful erotic, ecstatic dream
of having our atoms smeared across the galaxies
mashed into the cosmos
meshed into the mind
behind
it all
(if mind at all)

but then
somewhere out there
the devoutly alien

as different from ourselves as
different can possibly be

watch the distant flicker across span
of few small lightyears

the supernova
about which we can only dream

IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Tags

alternate history, existence, happiness, identity, loneliness, loss, love, meaning, poem, poetry, The Man in the High Castle

IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

my lover in an alternate
universe
(whom
I have never met)

is reading to me
from an alternate version of
Man in the High Castle

I lie on my back
at peace with the world
unaware of what
true democracy or
a completely loveless life can be

I think about hoping that he
is smart enough to be loving and kind
having no idea how
abject a thing loneliness can be

but whatever the universe you
are lucky, unlucky enough
to find this version
of yourself in
truth is, from resurgent Nazism
there is now
no escape

the dark idea of purity (our worst
political concept) already infiltrating
freely seeping through
for where is the person
without that part of them in them
that truly needs an Emperor, edict of
a Fuhrer
wants death camps for neighbours
they racially despise

it is only a matter of time before
we find ourselves frogmarched and swastikaed

this world or
another

evil always
resurrects

never truly dies

they reading a text in their universe
no doubt different from the
film of the book I am
watching (alone) in mine

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

MEANWHILE

Tags

Cosmology, Creation, Creativity, Ending, God, Humanity, meaning, physics, poem, poetry, stephen Hawking

MEANWHILE

God was poring over
A Brief History of Time

bemused by
the idea of ultimate particles
and a
theory of everything

taking time out
whilst entropy had stalled
universal expansion
(with the
weight of credit
the whole
of Creation weighed down)

meanwhile
I was in a coffee-shop
watching myself be performed

him (the actor) compiling a list
of things that could not possibly have holes

drinking a latte as only
I would
my world
a
space of
loneliness (only thing
I could think of —
or so I wrote
in the script) that

could not possibly have
a hole

whereupon he
commented on the way
the milky liquid swirled when
excited by
a spoon

almost like the
birth of the galaxy

which was not
In my script so he
must have ad-libbed

sometimes I forget
the difference between write
and being written

LAGOON

Tags

Creature from the Black Lagoon, Frankenstein, Horror, Language, poem, poetry, science fiction, semiotics, wordplay

LAGOON

was playing a word game
and came up with “lagoon”

now I love that word
for all its monsters

more crude and less
philosophical
than anything that
woke up
Mary Shelley
to create science fiction

how I will miss
a world of constant
counter-intuitive surprises

like the insects running
up down the wall
being the product of
the angle of the spectacles
shifting in an
hallucinatory direction
(subtle pointing of the head
the preferred technique for
a first-time
commitment to
multi-focals, whether
near or
far-sighted

those slight degrees of shift
simply switching the genre

which fucks (as well it should)
with that well-established delusion
that reality is real

for how real is a
reality when you
are swamped with such desire for me

your fingers (all appendages)
wandering
all over me

determined to
drag me along to
some
great cave of philosophy

or down to your
lair at the bottom of that lagoon

for B-movie sex
that you have already guessed
is protocol rewriting, Kama
Sutra by-passing

raw content to be inferred since
restricted to off-screen

AIDA

Tags

Artificial intelligence, Humanity, identity, philosophical, poem, poetry, science fiction, sexual symbolism, wordplay

AIDA

you came with
a manual on
how to
assemble and
disassemble
without losing any
special bits

how to teach
how to
cherish

how to
get you
through
the Turing test

and what to
read, study, imbibe
to try
and bring myself
up to
your level

and what in
the art of
how you
biomechanically
put together

to try until
only
metaphorically speaking

you blow
fuse
after fuse

SLICK

Tags

comic, Creation, Light, loneliness, metapoetic, Mirror, philosophical, philosophy, poem, poetry, poststructuralist, relativity, science, Stars, Universe, wordplay, writing

SLICK

in a galaxy
far, far away

another you reading
another me
writing

bored
out of
our tiny minds

it’s something to do
with parsecs and
light-speed

alternate universes and
the mathematical possibility
of mirrors
that this
drab little poem
has garnered the status
of cosmic joke
slick
as a
Cheshire
cat’s mind