Saturday, March 18, 2006

In Vainly Striving for an Epigrammatic Conciseness

I am the wearer of a ridiculous hat.
It is old and green – with dirt? who knows?
Its been years since I bought
It – five maybe. And I wear it everyday,
Putting it on as soon as I wake up.

I’m not wearing it now though
The stereo is loud and my head is unadorned
I'm happening at the computer – going with a poem.
It’s in the present – presently – and the poem is
Loosing its grip by referring to itself – grip on what?

The hat! Yes, indeed, that was the topic
And a fine topic – a conversation point
I like those dashes; I use them because I like them
Especially when Emily Dickinson uses them,
Sometimes at the end of the line like this –
But I’ll bet she never used two – – in a row
You can see why.

Can you blame me for losing track?
It’s just an old hat – the filthy thing
Doesn’t hold my attention for one moment
And I’m just speeding along with this now
I don’t suppose the beers I had earlier are
Helping – “# Skeletons? Yes, but with their
Flesh still around them, and alive #” sings the radio.

But I haven’t got a radio – how on earth?
Oh come on you! Its fictional creativity
You buffoon – Now now… don’t argue with yourself
And on paper too – which might outlive your
Organic existence by a good few years
If you’re lucky

But wait! Hold the press – this isn’t
Even paper.

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