Consciousness, Literature and the Arts

Archive

Volume 13 Number 1, April 2012

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Poetry by Anthony Squiers

BenzoDiazepine

Melt like communion,

on my tongue,

BenzoDiazepine.

Pressed against the roof of my mouth

I taste your acridity.

From vein to capillary

appease my neurosis

with offerings of bliss.

Keep neurosis hidden

So those who can, 

can

claim it has

died

its ontological death.

Let them believe

It’s buried 

in a convict’s cemetery

where above,

 the grounds are tended

by moribund  relics

like the Flat Earth Society

and Platonic mystics.

Folly

In the folly of Hegelian thought,

In our struggle for recognition,

In the human potential for

Sexuality and erotic love,

I find us,

linked,

intrinsically,

to the universal goal

of

togetherness. 

How Unexpected

How unexpectedly quiet
a city can be,
when you can't sleep
three AM
Chicago.

And you're thinking
about a girl,
in the long
moments between
cars passing,
on the street below,
open window,
August night.

How unexpected it is
to find
that even sound
dwells
in an unresponsive universe. 

Sometime

Sometime,
before she left,
she peeled back
the blankets
of my bed.

 

She misted her perfume
down on the sheets

casting out infinitesimal

dew drops

that floated into

the fabric’s thread.

Embedded now,

in the fibers,

is an ascetic incense
with helps to achieve
the transcendental bliss
of sleep.

In Theory

She was in Theory,

standing with

drink in hand

and hand near hip,

her hip rocking melodically

music, definitive sexuality,

liquid sexuality,

fluid expression.

Rolling, floating with

algorithmic complexity;

but, still formulated by

a mathematical simplicity

which the science in my observation

tries to deduce from

general propositions.

Moving from the grayness of Theory

that stops short of her knees

to the top of Theory,

cut low and turning lavender,

I look for what is unknown

and hidden from my knowledge

by the epistemological gray

of the Theory, I explore her in.

When Theory, discarded,

will wrinkle

superfluously

on the floor
she will, no longer be

in Theory.

But, in fact,

she will become real.