Would I have to leave you
for Space?
When the cities were sick.
Choking, polluted messes,
discarded, but still not discarded.
Of course, like all great shit shows,
built by the masculine gender.
Gravel, trash, petrochemicals.
Fused, smashed, grinded together.
But look, there is a new glassy
skyscraper rising above.
Phalluses we pat our backs over.
The leaders retire in them.
Guarded by their Imperium Guards.
These are truths of the era.
Dumb, choking, cough.
So would I have to leave you
to love you, to love in a new way,
beyond the dumb dome of
violent boys playing with their
toys.
To kiss the blue bend, bleeding
to black, infinity, freedom.
Civilizations not built around
gold, silicon, and silicon dioxide,
but light, mineral soil, air, the
circle,
the unworded, and the unmolecule.
Monthly Archives: May 2016
From A Spaceport
It is a spaceport
where we found love.
With its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
A sky above.
Always some kind of sky above.
Kill me when there is no longer
some kind of sky above.
But we lived there still
with its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
With its imported fruit,
monitored air,
and industrial hangers
bringing in the pollutants
from the men of Earth.
In all that is sick.
In the failure and necessity
of our species
we found love.
We found the one necessity
that still survives
in the words, attention, and
glances of the other.
We found the glances of the
other
and the hum, that one long
hum
of everywhere, every moment,
molecule, and memory.
My Cat The Physicist
I remember the thousand
afternoons
with her
made
so obviously
from star dust and rivers
and the tallgrass
of Texas
when she meowed
I did hear the mischievy
of the Big Bang
you know
the thing hearing itself as itself
you
me
these are words you’re reading
right now
in this place in time
I guess you’re on a planet
but it’s possible a space vessel
or
in the plasma of a supernova
information as matter
and matter as information
the Pinky Da Principle
Pete’s Pizza Economies Falling
centuries of people
have eaten that bad pizza
more long lasting
is the mystery of
these economies that plague us
come for the people
at this street corner
going in to get their pizza
going into the brick and
mortar
neighborhood building
to be back home with family
eating the cheese and sauce
and meat
with all those electric screens
aglow
they look into each others
eyes
with something ancient
asking
there’s more to this
in our DNA and the dust of
stars
above and so far across
existence
than what I chew and swallow
over and over
Ripe Womanly Presence
In the summer
I will want to jump
from the city bridges
into the polluted river below
to celebrate
the carcinogenic world
that men have built
from their grand manly
leadership,
then I’ll climb out,
walk home
to be loved properly by you
and your ripe womanly
presence.
Certain Transformations
What are we going to do?
We could write.
We could write for others.
We could go to space.
Going to space is the same as
writing for others.
It depends on which type of
“for others”
you’re talking about.
You mean,
to create financial gains for others,
then yes, it is a lot like going to space,
like that vast starry infinitude that is
death
and all those fields of stars.
This is what it really means to be a
star.
But to write “for others”
in the sense that you bear their
weight and pain,
well that is actually like going to
space too,
but it’s really more like the creation of
space itself,
the creation of new ways of existence,
like not just generating profit for some
creative goon or stealthy businessman
in the early 21st Century,
but carrying many generations across
the stars by the creation of new
gravity fields
over many tens of thousands of years
and certain transformations.
Humble, Humble Love 