NO STATE OF GRACE

things got so bad we laughed ourselves to death stood and watched as ghosts as things got into a right, raw nuclear mess no state of grace enough for that dark comedy immutable horror

MOONSCAPE

MOONSCAPE your brain is a moonscape satellite with no light of its own just light reflective, which is strange for one so unreflective and devoid of energy, or atmosphere #poem #poetry #satire

SMOOTH

SMOOTH smooth the surface calm things down your poem as it stands loaded with barbs to hook you, claws to hold you tight tight tight bear claw, tiger, every word razored ready for war which is why I ask that you think silk that you think softness rain or snow in no way thundering avalanching down

YOU CAN DRESS A LIE

you can dress a lie in Armani whilst the truth walks in (fake) snakeskin boots

NO LONGER

NO LONGER maybe I awake a blank slate no longer sucking vitriolic oxygen no longer thing of hydrocarbon no longer puzzled by the great questions philosophical and religious that (sometimes) absorbed our species before it slouched off into the night

BIRTHDAY POEM

BIRTHDAY POEM My birthday so I asked the Universe an ultimate question not a molecule stirred not a stone moved even the very distant stars continuing to shine (not having heard they had long gone, were living on memory).

NEVERTHELESS

NEVERTHELESS There's fish I can hook no more dangle everything that I dare come up short hook, line, and sinker. The deep calling me though demanding I forget tangling untangling and just dive worse denizens down there that spivs and sharks to break your legs give you concrete feet if what is owed you do not come up with and here I am not a bite just coughed up a poem (the Universe sniggering no longer any recourse to fake delight.

AND WONDERS

AND WONDERS no signs and wonders here not the barest hint of revelation time like poetry in a quantum universe full of the dullest surprises like the cliche of the circle, eternal repetition of this not a hint still less signs and wonders though we all feel it in our bones the big reveal

AS IT TAKES

AS IT TAKES AS IT TAKES let me take you into a safe, dark space or write you wholly out the picture a tide of recrimination being on its way a thick fog of blame and inside that fog things truly ravenous seething with anger, ready to bite, to tear anything enshrined in blood written on paper (raging for eternity or just as long as it takes)

RED CORAL

WINDOW

WINDOW the door has no handle no way of telling whether it opens in or out best draw yourself another door one to pass through perfectly and whilst you are about it, a window

MULTIVERSE

I would sing the multiverse but my voice got too croaky as I was pulled (gravitationally) towards death's door so you know now what to do with your wormhole burrow through, by all means, contact all those life forms that would be my deepest fears.

SIMULATION

SIMULATION sat in the cinema watching a science- fiction movie the images reaching me at the speed of light but what was traveling with that light treating audience and film as one great star-simulation watching us, absorbing all our thoughts into the kind of great cosmic species exploration that our alien authors love so much to see (can watch such things all eternity)

R NOVELIZED

R NOVELIZED love it when I novelize you turn you, a twenty- two year old woman from a village round the corner into a Moorish princess, Cuban revolutionary or alien lover inside that satin sister-of- the-soil dark skin nothing less than child of a star, creature forged from pure light.

BODY OF WORK

BODY OF WORK a woman is having her entire body tattooed with text and image of my story outside, the sky is full of comic book UFOs looks like ending could be beginning need to wait ten minutes (media time equivalent of a few centuries) to wait and see wait and see how it develops this body of work

YOUR FICTIONAL WORLD

YOUR FICTIONAL WORLD your fictional world different from my fictional world alleluia yours full of such strange, odd disjointed, unbalanced characters thinking themselves normal mine full of such normal people thinking themselves irredeemably strange

SORT OF

SORT OF I sort of write poetry this is sort of a poem when I look into this poem I do not see anything perhaps we have had our fill of reflection it all dissolved, went the way of generic deconstruction every poem being a sort of poem