Jonathan ROBIN Poems

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FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! - OUT LOUD CRYING FOR?
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P.E.A.C.E. WORK
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If the mind may be a universe unto itself, may the universe be a mind unto itself, and, if so, can it mind that minds can can, or cannot can, or encapsulate along a dotted line frame form spurning former formal form frames as fresh fusion transforms confusion into a cohesive constellation of potential energy particles?

A state me[a]ntal line, desperate to [t]race light, as if its existence depended upon its s[p]eed, soars, curving, arching, starching star I Ching through the marching universe, attempting to reach, underscore, and underline itself although temporal continuum discrepancies perpetually portray parallelax perceptions as spinning personnified neutrons mocking both judgemental convictions and neutrality. Is everything relativity one [m]asks laughing at Draconian measures?
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By cell phone, near a neon light,
or corner sex club’s sleazy door,
gad the sad glow-worms of the night.
Do not ask them why or wherefore
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Draw near, my dear, and take my hand,
we'll travel to true wonderland,
despite cold's bite, white frozen lake,
without delay we'll double take
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Escher, Gödel, Bach, together
make mind's music tempo weather
form to storm blocks, light as feather
turn constraints most, far less clever,
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She dreams him night and day,
he feels her faraway,
yet near as near can be.
He turns a corner, she
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HOMERUN
From dark to light – one cry.
cot, tot, fine whine, youth tries
to rise, outshine, – strength vies
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For you I wait
On Nature’s way,
Run round night, day,
Yet stand on fate.
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I wish I were handy as Arthur or Andy.
I ache to be Jake, Jack or Jim,
then there I’d be ready whenever, unsteady
she’d fall for a tall, fat, short 'him'
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