Poem One
Her spirit touched my hand Like a range accidentally left on Her beauty blinded me Like one who was careless with a light I suffered in the bathtub Like a fool who thinks that there’s truth in pain I lit the candle and I lit the incense Like a fool trying to touch the sun But we all know- the sun doesn’t burn you when you touch it The sun diminishes - Its role fulfilled It burns you and the skin falls from your hand in ecstatic Pain
Poem Two
The man of facts and the Man of description Are two sides of the same disfigured coin Two sides of bread that has gone stale Suffering the illusion of our age- bread that you put in the toaster But it comes out dense and stale because being burnt is an impossibility and being fresh Is the exact same impossibility Lady time was gone She left us and we never noticed it She was replaced by an imposter An imposter so disfigured precisely because she was a perfect replica Moments had ceased to occur (and all that was left was constant replication). All she left us was reproduction A paint by numbers set A new color was offered and us, as fools tricked Believed that this was time herself.
Poem Three
Entropy was murdered One night in 2015 It was a slow death Someone had slipped poison In her mouth And all time stood still. And all moments become collections And all memories became collections Stuffed and displayed on some man's mantle And we were left to Pick up the pieces And we were left Lost Craving the bliss of decay. We looked for it in everything We looked for it in every place But all that was left Was transubstantiation All that was left was new or old Entropy died one night in 2015 And if you ask no one knows how And if you ask no one knows that she is dead The ultimate irony and impossibility even- With her died lust was replaced only by Experience (collection) And we were left living in an anarchy of immobility And the anarchy of life without death