Game Theory

Game Theory

by Cam M. Roberts


a chessboard
is our map
of the world


sang-froid war
drones warp séance
to paranoid moiré


metadata grid arcane
await terror elsewhere
silence hell endgame


© CMR, 2014


     by Cam M. Roberts

"With those unseeing eyes I so begged when alive to look at me."
     — Samuel Beckett, ...but the clouds...

A Pledge 
is a benefit 
of the doubt 
under the condition 
of a dream 
as contagious 
as Terror Logic —

It sifts 
through us 
as if 
some consensus 
in reciprocal 

is a kind of catharsis 
delivered to the wrong audience:
So keep on raving, 
then survey 
your conspirators
because everyone's 
a Cult Leader
in this country.
Phallic contrails 
lacerate the sky —
Walls hood our bane.

How are we actually kindred spirits 
in our virtual world of zeitgeists? 
Are we distinct by subverted limits 
when we ourselves are poltergeists?

In view of the burning evening,
this atmosphere turns to grey
as does the time we share together, 
our cigarette silence becomes 
more sensitive by the second:
Underscoring of echoic vespers 
by melancholic starling whispers —

Until darkening
spires on yonder
horizon steep
can no longer
be seen
out of memory - 
Nightfall snatches
it all, under 
a polished claw
the waxing moon.

All withholds the mind's return
in shrouds of ghost-light, now
half-blind, half-holy. So how
will our final tableau recur?

All that is beautiful 
catches the Light 
you allowed yourself 
to shine upon —

© CMR, 2014