You want poetry? Oh, I'll give you some poetry...

*cracks knuckles.


Here's a few of my somewhat recent favorites...I can't believe I'm posting these here. But you asked for it.


your nows and instants

i've been pondering Julian Barbour,
which i wouldn't have done
without your impact.

my wended way into quantum theory
would have been a brisk stroll
instead of this lingering exploration.

my thoughts alight on change;
on time composed
of the projection
of our perception upon space.

upon a life
as a line of instances.

of how choice affects outcome,
of an object in motion that changes its course
by on conscious choice to affect direction.

i find myself fascinated:
by the endlessness of the particular,
by an instant's breathless quantity,
by the possibility of infinite perception,
by the impact of conscious object
upon conscious object.

change is the measure of time,
he says.

and i linger at the side of my road
to watch your instant
expand into the infinity of my motion.

of my course forever altered,
because you moved me.

and even as i fling myself
into another instant of change,
light spreads through dimensions
tracking each of my missed paths.

the ripples of this impact
stir the paths of other instants;
and because i can only perceive
my own dimension of instance,
i am cluttered with regret.

the echo of possible paths
calls to me from space not yet lit.


craving

i paint memories i never had
into your wide wet-open eyes,
and pluck delight
from your gaping mouth
like feather off white hens.

each twist and snap
of eager deceit
brings your prickled flesh
closer to my malignant solitude.

my hollow mouth
gusts warm invitation

to you.
to taste

and become my hunger.
become part of this emptiness.


(untitled)

careful, i burn you
in glistening beads;
carve your silhouette
into the prow of this emptiness.

emptiness which defines,
directs me.

ever eager, i dismantle
the components of once-joy
into the building blocks
of an agony to tantalize,
to whet me

for the next wave,
next notch out of my masthead...

surging to its fall
and the rush of a wet hand
to pull down my compassion.


eyelid

i brushed you
away to change
my sheets.

sleep will now
keep my fingertips
from dawdling

in the hollow
you made.

i made
this lie i bed in.