God’ll make a mistake
And we’ll eat golden eggs
And we’ll level the world
And we’ll all go to Hell
.
All these Dixie cups
Are the new Holy Grail
There is always enough
There is always enough
.
God’ll remake the world
And we’ll all laugh again
We were always in love
But we’re never enough
Paradox of Material Implication
If I were to love you then you’d love me. Or is it the other way around?
Weakening
If only I loved you.
If only you loved me.
If you loved me, I’d love you.
You’ll love me only if I love you.
Excluded Middle
What if it were not the case that I either love you or don’t?
Of course, I love you.
I either do or don’t.
Now a contradiction: for how could it be – while not being the case –
that I either love you or I don’t love you? It couldn’t.
I either love you, or I don’t.
Will you keep vigil, steady sentry
Guard me from wandering
Check my somnambulism?
Immobile, she will steal me
Twitching and shuddering
To Lethe, quiet, petrifying
Promise me, convince me
That you know Nyx is no
Poet-guide, no companion
Already your eyes see the far places
We will pace away this devil’s hour
Together, wary, weary
Hold fast and do not
Go to that river
Dreamer of dreams
The dark is eating our lamp
Hold my hand, sentinel
But if yours weren’t paraffin
thousands of
hundreds of
bottles rattling up
the assembly line
of my spine
up to the atomic tip
where they then
fall and fall and
i never hear the pop
The difference between
You and Khufu
Can be measured
In paragraphs
You pair of legs
You Mercedes-Benz
(Or are you the girl
Hit by one? What
Was her name)
I could get used to anything, and
If weeks of tedium lie in store,
I don’t mind: as long as there’s a
Schedule; and inevitably I could dodge
Surprise, arrhythmia no longer psychologically
Jostling. I’m optimistic this disappointment
Will fade just as soon as I get situated –
Gimme a second and I’ll sit down with
You to enjoy them: all the sighs we
Settled for. And the broken doors stuck
Shut with disuse. At least they’re pretty
Doors with smart brass numbers. At
Least this new neighborhood’s
Predictable as a pop song. At least
There are some activities in store
If you go check the whiteboard
“Not today.”
standing outside
when streetlights
turn on, it was
beautiful all
along outside,
where i could
have had a day –
maybe died –
and yet if fate
is a real thing,
there are moments
where you are
invincible where-
ever you breathe
the treachery of an edge
that had never opened
skin before it did
feels like being cardboard
boxes being broken down
behind the steakhouse in
the rain and feels like being
someone’s last cigarette ever
(before all the saudade)
there’s a pitiful epiphany
that feels like the treachery
of her promise’s fine print
or like watching a family pray
together (and the dad’s peeking)
their table almost levitating
out of the restaurant and
out into the real world
where we’re all waiting
for our skin to push the splinter out
“The mind is not a sandbox:
Its contents bear consequence
In the material world
(Time must be measured
in the mind for
dunes change
underneath
a brilliant map of suns)
“The life is the creation
Of the contents of one mind –
Thoughts are things in the real world
(Deep in the orange
distance: a string
of tiny camels
inching across
the grand dunes)
“One does not build sand castles
In the mind then not build them
Again on the ancient beach
(At the edge
of this alamogordo
your chain-link
fence made out
of mithril)
no longer
beautiful to
me infinity
disgusts me
(some abundances
wax rude)
how about
come back
down and
die like
the rest
of us
you know?
snap out of it
⨀ 