Techno Burn

Baubles - Teddy Bear latte - Ice Dream -The Ancient Fleets


Back in the old days the baubles bounced on high

and a line of plastic letters was strung across the crib:

so many choices

Pink bunnies danced across the ceiling

and mommy's face beamed down from above:



Mommy's round body was a playground

of milky breasts and padded fun

and you were the only one


Now as you lie back you see a flashing

in mommy's hand and a dark thin slab 

The light springs onto her fingers

and up into her sparkling eyes

and she's the one who's mesmerized


But you can't see from where

from what Play Land of colours

green and blue messages

tiny yellow smiles

beam upward into her smiling eyes


Teddy Bear Latte


Please don’t call me on my cellphone

because I swapped it for a creamy latte and drift

from thought to thought


as if I were my own person

not tied by an invisible string

to anyone and everyone

but just being here

by my self

here at Blenz

looking across the street to Indigo Books

where I see into the chapters of other people’s lives

the books unwritten

all the mystery and the subtlety

locked into those complex brains

until the cellphone rings beside me

what was I saying?



But, to be fair

you do get the odd intriguing tidbit:

“You let him do that?”

and then, “Did you do it back?”

but for the most part there seems to be little of interest

in the average citizen

now that I am disabused by their vocalized thoughts

unleashed into the airwaves

it seems that everyday man is a depressing animal

and the women are no better

they just talk more

and the more they talk, the less they say

all and all, it’s depressing and repetitive

day after day

it’s depressing and repetitive



until she walks in

in her green sparkling eye-shadow

and those white legs

goose-pimpled in late afternoon

raw white cylinders

shifting nervously in the harsh February sun

she buys a caramel macchiato

and sits next to me

and opens her book

as the sun threatens to fall

turning amber rays to grey shadow

my heart still swaying

between romance and fantasy


I decide to find out

if she’s an indifferent monster

reading Crime and Punishment

or my celestial muse, when she answers, “Yes,

I find it fascinating

and disturbing. Did you like it?”


Although hardly fit to absolve Raskolnikov

I confess, “Yes, I embraced him years ago”


“I know. I love the way Dostoevsky — excuse me. Yes. 

Hi. No. 

I don’t see why not. 

But I left it on the kitchen table. 

Forget it. I wouldn’t say that. 

Yesterday?  Fine, we” —



On the pavement the purple sun sets

and the heavy buses roll by

each with several dozen passengers

each talking in their separate circuit skulls

Ice Dream


Your world gets bigger with each bulldozer

each crane that lifts its thin bones to the future sky

 and within you are the same old empty spaces

which you fill with cement and steel beams

desires and crystal dreams

a star-crammed craze to fashion an Olympus in the air

and woods of green cedar, arbutus, and maidens fair

Aphrodite and Galadriel

and yet more fair until the very air is ringing

with ancient instruments of rare device

and amethyst turrets pierce the frozen stars

 until the next-door neighbours come with their sullen teenage sons

and plastic Game Boys to melt the ice


The Ancient Fleets


The old secrets can no longer be kept

and all the mysteries we once wondered at

are revealed at the swipe of a finger


The gargoyle curse is lifted, and the limestone speaks

about groceries

and about Jerry who had "way too many tequilas

fuck was he wasted. What? No fucking way.”


Ancient Horus now opens his beak

long closed and hallowed in casks of teak


Unbound mummies in their charnel vaults hold forth

about “the way she looked in that pink halter what a slut!”


Once upon a time tribes of Nubian mystics

descended onto the Nile in wooden fleets



Next: Addictus

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