THE MATERIAL WORLD
1
A few arguments on the unreachable
Yeah. It could have been that–
But the doorbell rang with a punch
From Venus, from Mars beneath zero
Dark uneasy clouds, those that seem
So sharply permanent
Before one steps dizzily off the devil’s
Merry-go-round and with the rusted car-
nival’s slinky of defeat trailing smoke
Of some Joker’s blunderbuss: Kerplop!–
Pow!–Oof! followed by Foo!–of tall-rain
Cloud punch!–
And so you tilt, tumble off, back into
The still spinning whirl of the known
Unknown all-of-the-sudden; just imagine–
As Sartre writes what “we are dealing
[with] here,” that the top hat of con-
sciousness (from conscire)
“Appears” at a certain point
To boil out of cap for the embryo
(in short) of the moment
Which before having ‘a past’
(back to that darkness)
Springs up in the [sic]
Fractal obfusc before
Picking up a drum
Snaring off from the Erlebnis
But what is the meaning?
Of this. Of that.
Even when you inhabit
And tempt to rob the question
Of its rabbit, you only begin
Gnawing at the gravel of your own question marks.
2
The gavel sounds with a stomp
Signaling that this tall tale
Just might stretch on … .
Meaning for the sublime
Not to fade like some Milky
Way star, ‘set or raised,
Arched aloft,’
Yet as with Lucifer,
To be framed
If not mashed into
Dr. Hilarious’ palpable Hollywood pulp
To be crucified by various tongues
To be screwed to socket on Tesla’s
Post-modern Ford assembly line
Where one says ‘cheese’ like a mouse.
In or out of frame, the uniting motif
Is to snuff out your lights
So Walt and friends might
Shift you into a Brooklyn perp
Line-up and so confuse you with others
Which only caters to the thought:
How many damned cursed god! s
The average good law abiding citizen
Lets out on their way to Dunkin Donuts
Mickey D’s, 7-11 before failing not to barf
Before Sunday’s sermon geared to welcome tourists.
3
There’s no hard way to put it.
The Pabst-Blue Moon while full
Went bust and so was untethered
Untied from the waxing ribbon
Of some bitch’s curse
Some white witch’s hex.
Too bad. Next! You tried to break the table
And melt the scale of Maat
But only to awaken Thoth
From the halls which go beyond
Even the down of the new up.
Thank you, Grandfather. Thank you, God.
Thank you, Great Mystery Above
Off the radar Off the board
They don’t understand a blip
Of your cigars, of your Tic Tacs
Which only have to think-therefore-
I-am to launch, to land upon
The parking lots of Looking Glass
Of Table Rock and whatever else
Might be boiling about beneath the ice
Of Antarctica.
4
You can undress and sit naked
Tap the Charleston or get sunk
(Swoosh!) in the dunking booth
Of thought–that while the croc-
odile spits out your oil, chomps
On your cash, captain-crunches
Down your Apple Phone, your
Apple Watch