MICROWAVE

Tags

dramatic, erotic, Fire, love, poem, poetry, power, sexual symbolism, woman, wordplay

MICROWAVE

you are
magnesium flare

are
cast-iron pot
in a microwave

nitroglycerin
tires
on a
747

you are so anti- anti-oxidant
things corrode just looking at you
so anti
your whole molecular structure
must be solidly oppositional

your system breeds confrontation
with every Sting-Police breath you take

and when you
speak

that’s when we know where
the Big Bang went
nothing
residual about
your
radiation

ray gamma, ultraviolet, certificate XXX —
you just dish and dole them out

and speak of
explosive
you the
banned neutron bomb
cobalt-coated

question:
did the dude who
made Blake’s Tyger
shift
the symmetry
a little

question: given the half life of
uranium, plutonium, californium, plutonium

how did I manage
to stay so long
(stirring that
fission fusion
reactor inside you)?

PREDATOR

Tags

human, Humanity, Nature, panther, poem, poetry, predator, Reader, shark, Snake

PREDATOR

water streaming through my gills
bringing the life-giving oxygen

I power my way forward
body so streamlined it is pure vector

dorsal, pelvic, pectoral
gigantic fins to stabilize
as I torpedo towards you
through the water
you being human
this being
no fair fight, supreme
mismatch

Oh yes, when I die
let me reborn in some
size or shape of deadly predator

hunting you down hopeless, hapless human
locked onto the smell of your blood

yes black as night and cruelly beautiful
my eyes blaze like emeralds
lit from within
my claws to catch and hold, dagger
canines to do the coup
de gras with

or slither like lightning turned into muscle
each drop of my venom there, in theory,
to wipe out an army

more than enough
to deal with you

who so
foolishly, artlessly,
entered into my target territory
whose heart
I have on heat desk

my speed
coiled up for
all such

devastating encounters

and yet
in your eyes I see recognition
absurd realization you
know me from somewhere

but I have have long forgotten you
reader, or the
wish beautifully realized

expressed
in this poem

having forgotten what it is like
to have been
human

my poetry now a matter of
rhythm and execution;
timing and kill

I WROTE

I wrote
like a demented Ted Hughes

as if staring
into the granite eyes of Prometheus
everything else
forged in that stolen flame

and something burned into
me from the heart of that stone
flooding the 101 room of
the brain with uncanny
Tesla light

my skin
disappearing

my shadow
forever, etched into
a bridge across a
river now
forever boiling

and Ted’s crows came screaming
in murder after murder
the air
turned turbulent by
sheer beat of
those wings

but the pen halted
and with it the vision

whatever passes from ink to
lip to ink again
from this moment
all just a
power crescendo of
dead, Earth-bound,
resonant repetition.

TO CAPTURE

to capture
your emotional truth

I thought
trombone
rather
than cello

not
oboe but
bassoon
fitted your
bill

and no picket fence to frame
but
razor coil upon
coil and
electrified fence

in short
you and all you are
would seem to me
to require

rough shape, savage form
small civilized presence