Beings And Time

Where are you in the year?

The epoch is in the year.

The epoch eats fruit.

The Universe knows beings;
beings are owners of things.

Beings are time;

Marilyn Monroes,
Michael Jordans,
Ronald Reagans . . .

beings are time.

The Universe knows beings.

(Of course)
The owners and beings have questions.
The owners and beings attend conferences.
Who is the owner?
Who is the being?

The Universe knows time.
The Universe knows time.

(Of course
the owners and beings attend conferences.)


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Eternity Season

Perish for those unknown
the ways of perishing
haunt the wood of farmhouses
the worries of housewives

we shall not perish as stone
I promise you

perish in riches or searches
the lashes of the ocean

those that seek SHALL perish
the ones who speak
the misguided seekings
are no better than computers
or all this software cast about

we are flesh and blood
in this household

we are bonded together
your mother, brother, sister and I

but the father is wayward
and symbolically, the same as illusion itself

in the elements of the Universe
testosterone is insignificant and has no register
and software is always virtual

don’t be software

we are flesh and blood
in this household


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

What Happened At Arby’s®

The hug of humans we saw it.
We called for it
in
the
wild

and

the creatures left us.

Left us by sunlight and beaches.

What else is there after beaches?

Silicon dioxide, photo albums,

mountain peaks in the distance,

the beating of spouses
leaves us
as barren as the landscapes we’ve spoken
by our own bones alone,
by the Ford Ranger parked under awnings,
the cigarettes on the dash.

Your mouth was empty when you ate only bread
tilted your head, had anger,

we have to deal with our conscience.

The cotton shirt had stains as they walked out,

remembered forever.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Spell

Who’s been noticing
the urine stains in my underwear?
Who requested
the memories that I lost?
Who’s been etching a rock
upon is claimed “there is asylum”?

. . . the Apostles?

Who cuts the grass
when the current lawn boy moves away
(not from this place, but from himself)?
Will the next lawn boy stay,
and find meditation
in his chores of repetition?

. . . all of us . . . do we?

Who fed me sodium all my life?
In amounts extreme;
an addiction to such spice
my liver must I trust.

The timbers of my blood have fallen.
Do you have the courage of imagination
to raise them?
Do you know the conifer-king of
ionized ever-greens?

. . . only one;
the answer or the question,
the human or the animal.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Above Calypso’s Sea

There was an island here
that held my carnal desires.

When shadows showed
on the cavern walls
from the fire
I ate them.
I fucked them.

Tumbling into the night.
Twisting close to stars.
Not quite celestial.
Not earthen.
Not there in one way
or another.

Between happiness,
long forseen in the world
of the future,
allured and drunk.

But the old winds came,
brought a priestess
to take me to the coasts of the humans,
so I could see
their achievements and failings,
their temples and refuse,
then
I could see myself
in the words I’ve written and others
who write in me
at the wooden table
in the daylight and the midnight
that
completes the verse of the wave . . .

the one, one wave.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin

Memes Of The Basic

I am on a planet.

I eat the godbrains here.
And believe them.

You’re far across the Universe.

You know,
in a giant greenhouse somewhere,
on a different planet,
I am eating the godbrains.
Hiding in the back of a little shed,
tucked into a corner of the greenhouse.
There, I work on the computers,
the receptors and the generators,
the ones the agency transported there,
the Delacroix 5 and the Destructor 12.

The Destructor 12 was very important
in the run up to the end.
We’ve now gone shy on parts for it.

We’ll look for those parts past the dunes,
just where the grass stops growing
and the sand cliffs begin.
The sunset burns into the hues of
the horizon
on this planet
where the merchants sell
computers to make this stuff.