mythoplokos today
invokes weaving
the shape of things
the state of tensions
terrific tensions
under surveillance
and people engineer
metamaterial when
the mind reaches out
to know a space desire opens
a necessary fiction & pteros
transpire to woo us ―I
don’t know if metamaterials
make better burqas when they
swallow whole how she is
not to be seen although the
work to shift reality exists
where nobody profiles anybody
everybody claims
yet at the McDonald’s
here behind the veil
where someone breast feeds
not illegally, someone
is told to leave policed
out the door scaring the hell
out of the six year old
eating his happy meal;
sowing the body means
sewing the cloaking device
one uses to reach over
such spaces covering them up
some things
really do
point to
something illegal as if alien
in something deeper, something
ill & lethal
as if to insist some mojo
in dark death is to happen,
some autumn-sowing
of Arizonan margins or
Japanese margins
but isn't this a milk bond
knowledge of erotic things
endanger us
'as if ' reality says
the ‘real’ happens
in stereoscopy
as if the known and the unknown
align themselves one behind one
behind one behind consumption.
It is
a retreat into matter,
a retreat in to the soul
of the season in vale states that
uplift images; something―a secret
wish, a blocked eros
is behaving its say which will
retreat into immanence and ways
to work the shape of things
sufficiently rotted that once
upon a then I thought holy;
sacreds are fast foods. So
get back, Mojo!
back to work back to school back
to providing some real 'nourish'
meant; meaning
each passion holds in suspense
other floating images to
surface things I’m not to see
alas, I’m fooling, too! I see!
So let me offer my own life’s
endings back to themselves
in these shapes of rotting
matters and turn the restless
sure-veiled, surveil lance material
which meta matters, too.
And, if these presences help you
to see you
and will I, too
see in these the soft body organs
and necessary inner knife, we’ll
see separately and together how
a desire in camouflage
fully envelopes everything
in lack ―living psyche
is living immanence is
no body at all. And our
living psyche, an erotic ruse
where tangible, visible bodies
disappear, collect and divide our
passions, too in negative capability
lets our knowing return an absence
space that knows what we do not
such light fools even light
©2010 stephanie pope mythopoetry.com
The Power To See matter & beauty poetry series
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