THREE POEMS – Robert F. Gross

Posted: March 14, 2012 in Fiction, Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

Regimen Post Mortem
be meticulous if you
have a problem with blood

for all its apparent dislocation
fracture and repudiation
the odor of disinfectant
that sticks to clichéd phrases
the porno quests of film stars and principessas
reanimating the dead comes easy

relentlessly democratic slogans
authoritarian instincts
death squads proliferate
in the manure of a black gelding

the night sky bleaching in cast-off cities
restless in imperatives business cards
universal happiness agendas
proof-read with blood

stand in the laundry room
jam the screen door shut
gape into the uninflected
zombiescape and never suck
anything with death in its name

The room seduced the sympathetic viewer

on one side the world
on the second the devil
and on the third
the curse of God’s wrath

one luminous paragraph
in a great darkness
one stage in a procurement
of aesthetic discovery
anguishing and fire source

the great floating circumflex
the way it in turn altered
the modulations of the sequence
shifted the reticulations of the force
and changed hell into heaven

Dialectic Hook-Up
as the blond guy dropped
to his knees
an expression

of hermetic fantasy
between his legs
I couldn’t hold off

I wanted both
ubiquitous and profane
household objects

one after the other
simultaneous negation
inside me

this alchemical animal
going a mile a minute
hot enough to slam

reality itself
lips parted tongue
against a shattered vision

the tiled wall
of the world pulled
deeper into his crack

  1. Regina says:

    oh, i very much liked these!

  2. Steven Mays says:

    Thank you, Robert; this is good stuff! I find most contemporary poetry difficult… and I’ll have to return to this a few times at least, before I begin to feel I understand… right now I’m fascinated by its beautiful, intriguing mystery.

  3. I do have a problem with blood, and, on occasion, I do find it makes me very meticulous. Well spoken sir, well spoken. Though, I understand the first two lines were not the sole producers of meaning in that poem.

    All of these are excellent.

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