Last night, a poetry of [RE{AL]L loss} / An electronic livery

Last night, as walking back from my studies

of this day, studies I spent the Liverpool 

way I treasure, and 

measure, and 

photo, and deconstruct 

gently,

I experienced a real poetry of

loss: a meta-

loss, if you like – and even if you don’t, 

even so 

it was such, and thus a tale of such sad dis

pairing!




Me, as one, ripped away from the heart of 

my writing, 

as other: from my

thoughts, and my don’t and my do 

and my so; ripped

out of my cells like a 

brutal man of sold and bought: the uni-

verse no rhyme for me; at least no rhyme 

of kindly be.

And in this way, three poems 

have been lost to this world of 

me-

lan-

choly,

as software app did 

fuck 

up 

bold 

its software-ridden [sh{IT}e].

And I ask myself, and maybe yous too: 

what can it mean when poems of cost, when 

words which express an utter desire to lose all,

are lost to this man for ever and 

ever?   

(A loss quite so total, 

I do want to cry … 

even if 

yet not quite dead as I’d wish.)

  1. So what can it all mean? 
  2. What does it seem to yous?
  3. What is there – in there! – making this fuckwit happen?

(And in this way I know finally my desire to end

is directly related to the rejections of love:

to have spent an entire lifetime – from

honeymoon to ‘versaries,

multiple and mad –

being pushed away sad by wife and lover both, 

is just so too much for me to carry solo.

And choice I have none, right now: no economy

I know allows me

to take decisions which alone I do need to take, 

and make,

and break,

and brake this jugger-

nought!)

And so much like a war, 

my love’s played out

its territory; 

much like a way of no choice, my life 

will most like send its final

delivery via

some form – quite wrong! – of

electronic livery.

Bet your bottom dollar:

you’ll see …



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