MISSING REALITY

Missing Reality


Misanthropic topics of thought
Miscalculated, as most plugged in urban Neanderthals often do
By mischance 99.999 percent of bad logic comes from as much expanse
Misrule is the rule of thumb for miscreants devouring credit over levitation
Miscible and relatable to the shaved headed purists of non-thought
Miscellaneous detachments of the spirit, the overmind
Unmoved by the misfeasance of chemical gods and quick witted R&D departments
A misapprehension of desire, a loss of uniqueness, silence
Misogyny, and missals, over warm wine
Organized chaos, misnomers really, usually mistaken for a mise-en-scene
Missiles of thunderclaps and mission statements spread across the netscape
Good intentions, I’m sure
One must recall, that ego and source are entrenched in a miscegenation of fate
Stirred by the misbegotten issues of separation that escape even the heaviest
Petters of meditation, and petitioners of open sleep
Misgivings are concepts for “heavy water”(of which I refrain)

Even so, some of us miss the false sense of being
And being anchored to the fallacy

Because the truth is
The allure of non-fiction is often both illuminating and intensely lonely.

“all the world is a stage..”

CODES AND CODEX

Codes and Codex


Fluorescent flowers on a broken hill

Acid rain pellets on the corrugation

My shorted simware and shredded flack is dripping velvet on the linoleum

Saidye stitches steel like a Bonavista ironsmith

And smells like silver licorice, and oilsand. God, she’s beautiful

Severed links and several reboots later

I dive into a bowl of spicy Ramen and remember

To check in with Hazel


Regret and guilt-speak are always soon to follow
Embedded in a cacophonous series of clicks
And mice
(moms always know which buttons to press, don’t they?)

Five yards of router cable to fold before
Water touches my skin, and I’m purged again
Saidye amuses me with Catskill humour and Broadway stills
A symbol of her affection

I still see the sun over the Ivory Coast and wonder

How many weeks it’s been since I last saw the stars

Guillaume yelps a sorrowful goodbye

And wags his furry ass as he disappears for the night

One last M.O.S. diagnostic
3 sips of merlot
and 20 kilos for the Zaphrum later

I dream

Of big league hackers and towers of frozen secrets
Black silk on the brain.

TRANSFER

Transfer

The tunnels are loud with
Track rumbling and squeaky
Passengers, quick to fill seats
With tense plaids and warm wallets
We bustle and sway, zeroes and ones
On a centipede highway to Du College St.
And St. Louis Avenue
Frozen in subway time
Oblivious to the backward evolution above
Strangers with a common purpose
Bodies in linear motion, minds
Blistered with high speed thought
A static ad for travel whizzes by
And I wonder what would happen
If the world we remembered grew
Too old to recall our faces
And we disembarked to find
A faded landscape
And a new civilization
At the next stop