Mister Wizard’s Nordsee Experiment
Today there is something impersonal and ruthless
the wiring of catatonic rats in series
Each one of them draped in inkstained cheesecloth
the respiration of innumerable dreamers
Hillock upon hillock reaching into winter
already put on ice and vivisected
He moves the finger of the galvanometer
like a robotic fiddler’s tremolo
The five-watt bulb shudders convulsively
into enfeebled, intermittent transmission
Olivia’s Willow Sampler
The rats furnished her with calling cards;
one would have cried from beginning to end. She
Neither thought of her brother dead nor branches
nor facts in his forehead good as she would ever have:
A root cellar of meditation with a world on the side.
Several days to spare as good a moment as any
Lost connection in the dark near the lake
under the clouds trees lawn down to her very hands.
Robert F. Gross leads a nomadic existence nowadays, writing and directing, meandering across the landscape, and on the lookout for collaborative projects. He is currently involved in the development of Julius Ferraro's Micromania for its premiere in Philadelphia. He has recently published poems in Black Mirror Magazine, The Camel Saloon, Sein und Werden, Philosophy after Dark, and Danse Macabre.