The Garden Of Forking Hypertext
i have met them at the close of day.
coming with fervid faces,
they refuse our usual dive by the bay.
uncertain and afraid,
we drown in oysters and beer
and Cubans
to silence yesterday.
leaning on Ben in Washington Square
we call upon the fountain of temperance
to carry this crowd.
contemplate humanity out loud...
on this grassy expanse of fresh air,
plenty of room to run jumpers bridge
the cliff of universal despair.
scores and scores of ducks in a row
pull a fine gallery of sheepy clay.
was it real? the funeral flock of 49 birds
carrying away ineffable pain?
did they send comfort dogs
to soothe emotional stress without words?
rolling fog turned to rain,
fighting for our future through worn out religions,
live streaming murder, false flagging mayhem,
turmoil spreads in unlearned lessons.
repeated history keeps
lapping at blank calendars. waiting the celestial
day of new beginnings,
she screamed for hope
in a rare rebel yell,
bloodcurdling!
then one says his boils
in this disheveled patriarchy.
he claims it is in the hormonal runoff,
don’t eat the chicken.
don’t listen to mainstream media.
it was really a sig sauer MCX.
he reached for his extension
ruined by hypermasculinity...
did he know it’s greased pig
he’s eating,
and a dying society’s alkalinity
from the ocean?
one chimes in, “where are the patriarchy
banging the drums of war
in the protocols of escalation management
and blue soil strategy”. yeah, she says, “territories,
they need to disappear”.
but what of one universal religion,
the world is locked and loaded,
a power keg of global consciousness
thinking revelations into existence.
well, we can lay blame at the feet
of the cult of pseudo-intellectualism.
our little band is full
of the sweet temperament of receptivity.
we stroll to the art show, rambling tyrants
looking for heroes and helpers
pleading for giants.
women have their equality struggle
post-feminism...
men frightened by femininity have war.
do you still believe in pink and blue?
look at that purple tree... that’s a jacaranda in bloom!
city hall in a rainbow light show
turns red– white– blue–
false flags the whole spectrum,
who makes the call?
over– beyond– super–
he kept quoting the book of sands
the garden of forking paths
she was stuck in the library of Babel
i was walking in the middle
a gulf victory garden of hypertext
fiction…
of multiple conversations
giving way to cybermedia. look it up!
a house of leaves in pale fire... make it up!
have you ever read The Tour of God?
sweet Spanish humour.
then he asked in his perfectly delicious French accent,
“Connais-tu tous les arbres de Paris
Sont référencés et mesurés?”
Did you know all the trees in Paris
are referenced and measured?
