POEM: Adumbrating My Too Sense

Teeming with errs
Their egos agin
They took their best shot
Sow prod of themselves
In citing
Your poetry makes no cents
As if
The golf between us
As driven in sanity
From goad above
Rather demanding
A stroke of genius
Wringing hollow
In a tin cup
That fateful hole in won
In things looking up
And people looking down
At storied little balls
And exclusive clubs
Beating with in
No bogey men hear
The par will always be with us
Not sow stuck on the short game
Put on buy the green
Razing polls and flags
To victory
Only to wind up
Being
In side job
As aww some coinage
Of mine a loan
Tempting too undue
Being so much as a cad he
And he he he
Left behind with scratch
Knot even ahead

This is a poet’s poem.  This poem has one of those bonus titular words, adumbrate, which means foreshadow.  I must confess, as highly alliterate as I am, I only discovered this word in the thoroughs of my joyous addiction to Thesaurus.com.  In due course, the title begs “a dumb rating my too sense,” as standing speechless is an awe-too-common response to reading (or trying to read) my poetry.  This poem dismisses the gulf between making cents, buy tailoring and valuing a poem by its popular, a peel, rather than glorying in singular glimpses of awe that can be mined in a fantastical mountain of meaning.  My poetry is not for the feign of heart or to revel as IQ smarts.  As most beauty in this universe is never experienced by humans, as we pass up the illustriously novel for the merely comical, I stand in solidarity with the better share of the universe.  Sow it shall be ridden, commanded by fire that does not burn, in stone that knows how to roll.

POEM: Word Jonesing

She said
Your poetry seems like a lot of work
I said
It’s less wordsmithing
And more wordjonesing
Or sew it would seam

There is little doubt that reading my poetry takes some work.  It is commonplace in my poetry to have multiple meanings (puns), multiple parallel narratives, quickly shifting mixed metaphors, and erudite references, whether scholarly or from obscure pop culture.  This often makes for a highly alliterate reed, demanding enough flexibility to bend with the shifting winds of meaning, and seeing passed the tides of meanness.

In this poem, the launching point is from the reader’s perspective, implying that it is both difficult to read and difficult to write, or “wordsmith.”  While the former may be obvious, this poem shifts the focus from mere difficulty of work to the underlying passion fueling such effort, “word jonesing.”  At its best, in writing poetry there is an irresistible pull from the allusive muse.  Sometimes I even experience the poem writing itself, from whence I dare not say!  Thus, transforming the Smith and Jones of words into something transcendent.  The concluding line, Or sew it would seam, references how this process results in a seamless body of work, where I typically hold out some healing message, even to be unfrayed in kneading knot keep up with the joneses.

POEM: Wading for Gödel

Wading for Gödel

A play of mathematical imprecision
Fraught with everlasting interpretations
Malingering, idoling away the ours
For a character whose reputation must impossibly precede him
Like the brutal distinction of jealousy and envoy
More afraid of the unknown than vacant certainties
Hanging around
Where oddly even suicide guarantees no relief
Fearing that nothing can’t save you
You continue with your undertaking
However uneasy your stay of execution
Every certainty begs a certain vagrancy
To wander into a place transcending recognized laws
Leading only to recognizing more laws
And evermore places transcending those laws
Somehow forgetting
Too right your cycle
Hungering for certitude
We become backwards
Taking on some medieval Buridan
Like some starving ass equidistant between two bails of
Hey! That direction doesn’t feed me at all!
How can I drink it all in
This rarified and singularly absurd dox
I’m pailing in the face of a pair!
Grown instantly by the experience
Making bail
A boat
Time
In a whirled that is
“Now,
50% more axiomatic!”
Barely con fronting reason cruelly deductive
The take away message
Be aware of the trip
It’s juxtaposition
The present
The eternal
Borne in mind
Your out
Look!
And if you find yourself
With an accent on the Kurt
Go d’ell
Or waiting for some “go dough”
To get the hell out of there
Don’t for get
Consider it
In completeness

This poem requires you to be highly alliterate!  The title “Wading fo Gödel” is both a tribute to Kurt Gödel and his Incompleteness Theorem and a pun, and tribute, to the absurdist play, “Waiting for Godot” written by Samuel Beckett.  There is also a tip of the hat to the medieval philosopher Buridan’s Ass Paradox.  Please don’t sweat the everlasting interpretations!  Though I will offer one tip to increase your reading pleasure: the line “Go d’ell” should be read with an Austrian accent (Kurt Gödel was Austrian) — that is, give it your most dramatic Arnold Schwarzenegger accent, with attitude!  Enjoy the passage…