Martin Rock



Posiedon I call upon you from my desk
position in the toss & scup

                                                                               of eternity

                           How am I not to despise myself
my own silence                                                                                                                                       inaction

Last night I sat down to watch a program on Hulu
was confronted by men and their guns
wanted to see just one innocuous nipple
hear just one nonviolent fuckword

             Instead there was the gratuitous slitting of 3 human throats
one woman raped & then left in the mud
a total of sixteen mutilated bodies
an infinitude of dark-skinned villains
one hero with a trunk full of guns
a bus bombing that killed thirteen & was valorized by the
slow-motion beauty of shrapnel moving through the air like raindrops which
emanated all from the blast’s magnificent axis


                                    are your brains drying up is your flesh

                   drying up the spirits the gods the visions I’ve seen them

                        & learned from their whispers what language

                                    knows not I know not still


                        yet never did I breathe its pure serene
till I heard Chapman speak out loud

uncovered a bit of old-fashioned music

                                  slipping out from the piece of time I call my own death
beneath the floorboards of my skull

                        & eyes! What eyes in the fecund heads of men!


            The watcher must watch his own eyes
know of his own distracting gaze

                        What is solid can simultaneously exist & not exist
can pass through a solid wall
is comprised mostly of empty space


Consider the effort it costs to eat breakfast
play hockey
take part in the infinite

                                                                  permutations of matter
implications of inhabiting

a body & taking it into the street
putting food in the mouth-hole
stomach that goes on forever
for the samurai

unspooled into a fleshy chord which he held in his hands
must have smelled terrible

                                                                                all that bile
as he honored his lord


I refuse to believe we are part of a global experiment

Think of the boundless wisdom
esoteric scripture
information contained

                                      in one computer chip
grain of light
microsecond of lovemaking


            Man does not find his way back to the village

                The village is not webbed in electricity

            Electricity is not the cause of suffering

                Suffering does not derive from circularity

            Circularity provides neither head nor tail

                Without head or tail man is prone to distraction

            Distraction strikes not at the yolk of man

                Man does not find his way back to the village