Been in Seoul where there is a never staunched flood of power in innumerable manifestations; so this poem seems a fitting expression of the contrast in power between city & country, though it doesn’t directly deal with that, this is an abstract expression of what power stands for to me.
This sonnet is the closest yet, out of all i’ve posted, to a Shakespearean sonnet
—though i’ve messed with the volta a bit.
Leviathan impaled upon a cypress tree,
its throat bust open like a sinking ship.
A poet’s posture, mimicking their anglepoise lamp.
A sack of hammers lobbed like a hive of bees.
Foucault demurely yawning, asked to unify
his theory. Watch a person, embody the inversion of
a stereotype & flabbergasted wonder if a whole life
inside an office cubicle, letting the key
strokes presage crow’s feet in the temple…
See this shoe box here, this jumble of cables,
if you can untangle them without frustration…
The fulcrum of an idea, on the tip of 2 kids’ minds
— a lamp switched off then on. A child
to point at the sun & say where’s it gone?