Congress of Red Mouths

We were all lovers
At one point or another
We all met behind ruins
And stared at flowers in eyes

And briefly became somebody else
In the unity of our flames
Our desires burned like youth
In our chests and leaped

Like breasts unearthed and dreams
Plundered and fantasies enacted
We were lovers to someone
And we gave our hearts, and cheated

And in the hot ovens of our exploration
We came upon beauty and nudity
And clasped the sweet merchants
Of sex, at some point or another

A history full of poems and lyrics
Of ancient knowing, instinct even
We were handsome bastards
And luxurious ladies, we were

The landscape of bosoms and blossoms
And it was fun, and easy to find
A richness in the company of gender
Flirtation with ecstasy boasting bitten

And unpairing passion like a fruit
The most natural fruit to be eaten
And tasted and treasured forever
The foreign district of erotic tongues.

The Singularity Dream

If I had the time to be a hero
I would marry technology
For a day, download my soul

Into the skyline of the net
And stretch my body
Across the galaxy

But for a day or a lifetime
I’m still biological, human
With needs like a mammal
Anonymous among the crowds
I have only the energy

To survive, my friends
Have come and gone too many times
To count, and the places

All seem the same
I’ve seen the outrageous dreams
Of humankind, to get rich

And felt the kiss of people
Without any true imagination
How they exploit you in their own way
If I had time to be a hero
I would study the algorithms

And perfect the patterns of history
So that I might better participate
In that which is inevitable

And join the wonder
Like always, the new paradigm
And bridge the gulf between

Organic and machine
My mind a software that can be mapped
My brain a complexity
That can be reverse-engineered.

Becoming Normal

 

There is no growing mad
When growing old, all we get
Is more sane and tranquil
I remember clearly though

The insane letters in my mind
How intense feelings
Once were, like the end of reason’s
Fever, or the revolution

Of identity in a lovely instant
I remember the radical monuments
Of youth, carefully concealed
Against a hostile world

My friends warn me
I have sung a song of
Too much patience
I will tell her of my love more carefully

And I do not gladly wait the years
But my cheeks gladly waited
For the woman I would marry
The years have turned to gold

That honors the time of passing
With no clear destination
The pockets of sanity are not deep
Not proud, not time-charred just normal.