On Cookies
I’m too dead to deal with recriminations
From unknown unknowns arriving, these clear
fakes, derived from the cookies’ machinations.
If I don’t want to buy off hooks of spear
Fishers, why should I accept all? Wasted
Specious downloads! You’re not sorry, the next ad
Won’t be scrutinised, yet self-effaced
Subliminally through a second’s word-flash fad,
A spawn of spammy bots freshly dating
Rows of my inbox. “Website unranked? We’ll
Push you right to top of Google chart,” said
Someone kind (not AI filtered). Stating
That you need me to love your business
At my expense ain’t fair alive or dead.
Plotinus’ Caves
Let him retreat to the crystal caverns where
Self-tendered fire strokes the chafed palms. Insipid
Fretful bards, hunched towards whispering bare
Scintillating flame. Obliviously conspired
Against, a crackling streak shows views of Sun’s
Lament, and every freeborn heart that finds
A spring is now a shadow on the way.
The dao of dreams unseen forever binds
The shadow self again to wholly play
A part and then replay it, awkward puns
To trap all vestal urge outside the gate,
Approach the island. Do not hesitate.
Settle here forever, you were from here
Before you left without a single tear.