Friday, December 19, 2014

All You Wanted Really




Today, in search of sources
of resources of new intellection,
you have somehow managed
through a coalescence of reflection

to produce innumerable minds
beyond whatever you’d been
born with. You found it wasn’t hard
at all to generate this loose

profusion of collective brain –
colluding in a sort of musical gestalt
of theme and strain which wove
an aural prologue to an exegetically

unprecedented genesis of thought:
an intimately, intricately satisfying
abstract web in which you happily
discovered you were caught.

All you wanted really were
the sounds of many words.
To sing to you like birds.





.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

The Meteorological Equivalent of Silences in Pinter




Cold requires accoutrements
sufficient wrapping to induce
a happiness in being in the cold.

We like the risk: we like when
we are rolled in a belying warmth –
shielded from the ruthlessness

of winter – immersed in a defense
against the meteorological
equivalent of silences in Pinter.







.

Somebody Should Tell Him





Languishing
in anguish –
eruptively
disruptive! –

incapable
of even
the remotest
calm comportment:

somebody
should tell him
nothing’s
ever that important.







.