Poems on art and poetry

hesiod-and-the-muse-1891

Hesiod and the Muse by Gustave Moreau

by Donny Duke

An Audience Song

Poetry enhances
Our little corner of life’s room.
It’s what we splash on our faces
To get the stories out.
You would contradict this song.
That’s the mystery.
And we look at an iceberg.
It roses from the ground.
Underneath it stalls in light.
A brief ocean
Has rounded in our ears
The equity
Of a larger see than ours.
Alimony this payment
To that stuff in us
At noontide’s sing.
I’ve rounded poetry.
You hear the contradiction?
It’s a blistery see
With what ails yah,
The exuberance
Of a state of being
Laughing at the stars.
It’s a transaction
Between you and sight
That calls all what you don’t see
Into play.
I measure my life by it
One poetry at a time,
A poet in my room
Attended by verse itself.
You are my audience
Lines of poetry.
What people there
The contradictory note,
The flowers of which I speak.

The Kind of Pressure in a Poem

And fit we are as strangers the earth inhabit?
The line an example in song.
Poetry would have its base.
It would be an imperfect seeing
Of a rocky ledge
That leads skyward.
Ever the words point down,
Despite our up holding.
You would affix to my stare the line of prose?
Lofty,
But it doesn’t string together in couplets.
It must be something.
I would affix your stare in the right place.
A poetic engineering.
What fathers poetry?
The mission
Words have when they join reality
In a special seeing.
It is more than view.
Little flights of stairs it puts in the corridors of our minds,
Passageways to the unknown.
Ever a bright seeing,
This hall can get dark.
A high voice time said.
Bake its music.
It’s a contemplative thought.
Sound qualities this out.
The line is here.
Meanings multiple sublime its insight.
What constitutes a poem?
I would gather you in my sight.
The poet on his remark.
A child singing at toys,
The reader listens.
It is special significance
Given to something.
A poem will fashion for the reader eyes
That can see past the thing spoken.
The reader needs this he understands.
Ever the object Art stands in the background,
An irresistible beauty we can’t put our finger on.
What about someone’s laundry list,
Is it a poem?
Would you manage its field, let’s say,
As a figurative lunch?
Can you actually see the laundry?
Will the vision run you deep?
School these questions
And see if you have a poem.
Have we drawn quarters on poetry?
Have we?
Let it grow larger than shape
And ever change its form
The muse said.

Poetry in the Night Sky

Reconstruction poetry,
We center on the verb.
It’s a dried out test.
We untie your heart’s strings
And moor them on the beyond.
Ever handle a verb
Where letters are concerned?
You would read it aloud.
Why back there?
The world is waiting to evolve again.
Fluffy just barked it.
A slow paradigm shift needs meaning.
Modern poetry wrote prose.
Not every single person.
She really did look snail
Up until now.
Herald our delivery.
The verse is gonna change.
There is no meaning’s worth.
Read it aloud.
Does it ring a bell?
And if it does,
Does it sound deeply spoken,
Where something more than words been said?
Cut it out of the diary.
Does it paste upon a high note?
Will it make you mad,
Or feel any emotion
That blinds your eyes a sec,
So great your feeling’s strong?
Is modern poetry familiar
With your inmost page?
Will it send you storied into the unknown?
It’s a frozen purpose.
Literary these words don’t move.
How we gonna know your basket?
We relocated you.
We redirected your mood.
It’s painted there,
Our poem.

Monitor Poetry

I don’t know if I fashion poetry.
It got your attention.
Any cross,
Well, it’s gonna be worked out.
I have a confession.
I spill poetry.
I can’t size it right.
Am I the director
Or the thing happenin’?
Can I say in one piece?
You won’t accept
Some God lines the page,
Or I let you speak.
I’m the different speakers
Where you read my poem.
Can we get out of this locked in soliloquy?
Is that inside shut to outsiders?
You live in that bubble all alone?
That’s our life robbed.
Please,
(Loading…)
Grant that jury gives sway.
The squirrels will naturally love you.
Rufus!
Where do I find anil?
You got it over that devil?
You give ‘em a say?
I give a rebuttal.
They can throw it out.
Do whatever you want to do I guess.
Know their evidence in image
Trying to find its way in.
Now for the spoilers.
Your vision will top that
A wider vision grows.
Am I involved here?
The loveliness of the word.
It fashions beyond me.
Why don’t you just walk this way,
Where my words come in the quick of you
A larger reader read.
We’d vie for attention.
It’s the ego said that.
Yours can sit there too.
That’s a hologram.
There is a master’s program.
Grant that see life.
We don’t need mix.
(That reader mixed up.)
Then I guess read somebody else.
I’m a busy language.
To the computer.

A Flarf

(Written to and posted as a comment on the blog Strong Verse)

I don’t read poetry.
Happiness,
I move you against myself.
What?
Tell Leroy to take his clothes off.
Got off that way,
Changing verse intah clipart.
I fashion a roving document
Over someone else’s writing.
Instantaneous at my command,
I flip-flop strong verse.
I am not up on meaning.
I battle poetry to be familiar.
Where madness draws
I have a copy there.
Want to be there with us,
The literary collage,
But they have papers to write,
Spirits to attend,
And they have to seem unusual,
Not just any flat notebook
Hobby wore.

You’re not gonna help with anything are yah
Literary jacket?
Boy have you got a turn.
We give you the ticket of our lives,
And you show us Intermission.
Don’t listen to us.
Why did you say somethin’?
I said I’d like to read some poetry.
Look it,
What am I housin’?
Who gets called a poet.
What gets called a poem.
So lift your skirt up.
You have some wadin’ to do
To come to my pavilion.
It’s what I understand verse to be.
I went ahead and did it,
Severed poetry from its base.
There is no rocket there.
I’m about a country mile
Full of the blindness of life.
I’m about trees
I magnify to cut down.
I’m a monkey,
Certainly not a God.
I will limit myself to one banana:
The world seen through dying eyes.
I’ve lasted longer than I’m supposed to.
It’s not a length on poetry.
Immortality,
I don’t have that number.
Of course I’ll give consideration
To that cyberborg.
Hits home.

A Handful of Art

(Written to and posted as a comment on the blog Strong Verse.)

Where’s art come from?
Where is art taking us,
To thah menagerie?
No matter how
Art gets defined,
It’s larger than that.
By larger
I mean beauty
Has visited us
–Even in its most fearsome stare
Or where it handsome ugly eyes–
High over there,
Where ineffable lays its hand on us
And moves us a measure beyond
How we look at things,
In the direction
Of art’s native field.
Is this not where
We are going
In our journey upon the days?
You got a little
Art visit you here.

That’s Visited Muse

(Written to and posted as a comment on the blog Strong Verse)

Turn dates and sands and periods of time,
Opportunity is forthcoming.
Where in here our spirit waits?
There’s art you understand.
The whole world is an epiphany
The Spirit sing in matter,
But it is in art
We see the growing signs,
The throes of a difficult birth.
Here in art we chronicle it.
A great road warrior
Like Martin Luther
Has figured death as the ascending stair.
His Christ died.
There he finds meaning in life.
Can we do the same thing to art?
Ironic changes.
You must have come with the hill up.
Physically impossible
Spirit what builds matter on.
You can laugh it out.
The eternal seed
Is everything.
You got an art burn
Mr. Skeptical Jones.
You can guess where is that seed,
Pick it up go,
A moving surmise.
Now that we have a handle
Would art show us this?
Everything
Has the Spirit as its touch.
Then what happened?
Art reveals.
Come on it’s bigger than lunch.
My question is:
Where do we find art?
All your reach is on
Where inside grows.
Be available.
If I went in there I would already be here now.
What has kept me?
The one with the bars in front of it,
A doorway on the inside,
Understand
Have danger.
You’re gonna go
Down a long time,
And when you’re done
You realize you’ve been going up.
I know who you are.
You’re art along the way.
If you’re speaking to the poem yes.
Talk to me
My inside.
Well there’s the matter.
It’s the muse.

A spiritual evolution
Roman single file.
A wide gap
Most of us will know
Between the two fabrics of reality:
A spiritual seeing
And our eyes on the material,
Between what’s real
And apparent fact.
Ever look behind a curtain?
Ever look inside yourself
Deeper than
The thought process?
How much do you record from sleep?
Is that your unconscious period?
Where do you read to?
Are we looking at the chapter of material event?
Can’t you give a psychical reality
To your own inner process?
What happens when you fall in a dream?
Have you slipped through a doorway
To some deeper you?
It’s nominally important
Over here.
Just continue.
Every station ferries landing
Where the soul sits
And awaits its turn
To arise from slumbering seas
And be that king in you
That will take you to master existence.
Don’t appear
To be such conscious design
In the confines of life.
It’s wild
The Earth beat.
The owl knows its story
But would be baffled by a man’s drum,
His window on things.
The bird can’t gather such notions,
And it would follow its own kind.
A human is the same
When it comes to such spiritual vision.
Just lemmie
Try to found myself here
In the business of life.
Where do you put your anchor point?
You could always
Cast deeper.
You know I recognize that voice.
He’s gotten in here,
The one I really like.
He doesn’t have a name.
I ask him to come anyway.
I’ll just call him art
Reflecting truth.
Lately neither one of them you can find
Truly important.

Mainly concerned with art trends.
Has art turned into critic?
Did truth just become belief?
Where’s the experiment in that?
She has to see it before she believes it.
Smart girl?
Smart girl.
Reducing the system.
For geography
Believe it or not.
There’s a service charge
When you encounter truth.
Give it to me
A poem fellow.
That sound see how it works.
Listen up.
Comin’ up soon:
As you die you experience.
It’s the wayfarer’s land
The realm of death.
What waters there?
That you have a Spirit journey.
You could do that here.
My attention to worlds
Gives me the positive notions.
I am not just matter’s brat.
I have lovely fields inside.
I have lots to look out
And open my eyes everywhere.
I can’t help but recognize
In the field
In universe
There’s the Spirit prompting.
It has many worlds on it
And is cabling out our lives.
It’s this that you’re looking for when you say bread.
Hey it even
Tell poetry bill.
That’s the truth of seein’.
That’s the truth of poetry.
Catch the truth.
Slumber up,
I can give you dimensions to read.
Ever bake bread?
A partial check don’t go.
You would have to put your whole life into it.
Plug in the last one:
Soul’s evolving in Time,
You issue life from there.
That’s your anchor point.

A Poem to Live By

To the maximum words you want to
Give poetry to,
Oh that’s nice.
You’re not going to stand around naked.
That fan was made the poet see.
A gust of wind called.
When I was eighteen we would concentrate
On universal wares.
We’ll just do this dishwasher.
Then listen:
The cat’s funny about the squirrels.
Don’t just go jump on music.
I’m sure they’re not going to impress them with the name Millimeter.
Is it clear now?
You would need to be longer than length.
How high is it?
There, I’ve disturbed your world.
I gave you a penciled motion.
Reader I’ve blocked your view
Of what busies an individual,
His own mountain of concerns.
My poetry has your attention.
Is this the mountain that rode by?
I’ve given you rumors of your own existence,
Made off with a lengthy chair
Of the sittin’ you do to see life.
You would think me the devil’s branded kin
Or heaven’s messenger.
You would be bruised by my word
Or given a healing touch.
Lukewarm does not fight with me.
Some perspective has come around
And it’s operated on the stars.

Where is he now?
He’s on the wing.
I’ve had enough.
I think you want to pass judgment.
I think you’re going to fix the legislature,
Take it out of poetry,
The provocative beat.
I’ll look.
He is not going to get her.
They make poetry
Right at home
With what everybody else is publishing,
A mission statement:
Physical law.
Five minutes
And we’ll repeat the News.
It looks to me like
The dark
Has gotten through
To the heart of the emotional.
We eat here.
Gonna sell ‘er
To the idea
Beauty is
All you can see in a day
You don’t believe in.
You’re not believin’ it.
Both of these
Can’t outstrip poetry.
She’s coming back.
You can hear her tease.
Wait a minute.
You’re a goner.
We’ve an established code.
You’re not gonna,
Not gonna get eye.
How naughty.
There must be somethin’.
Tomorrow you’ll have to come
To a land not concentrated on time.
Who found it?
Well I tried to tell yah.
Poetry is our sight.
A poem would read the world.
Got room for it?
I won’t just say space.

A Poet Makes Off With Eyes

Arms that cry,
He searches in his sleeve for this.
Two hundred and ninety pounds,
Two hundred and ninety-five pounds–
Too much hate.
A conceptual poem
Could like to water the plants,
But it just won’t get out of its space.
This will take a conceptual line:
Hatred is at the grassroots of society.
There a poet feels its blog.
In him he can’t move it.
His cursor is disjointed,
And he can’t see its mark.
I bend to the rules.
We hear his craft.

Poetry breaks out:
Hatred is all fashioned up.
You can’t see its precipice.
You feel irked,
Bothered,
At that other person’s dinnerware.
You don’t hate their cross.
Extreme is not the only form of hate.
It has wide care.
It will stand there and yell at your children.
You hate them late for school.
It will ride to the grocery store,
Hating every line.
You call God that way
When you’re mad at him.

I’m waiting for a bandage to trip up.
That reader hates me I guess.
Now you can report on the News
Unmolested by an opposite point of view.
That’s where poetry stands.
We can build bridges here.
Are you hearin’ my mountain?
What flies this ship?
Give me some identification please.
There, I’ve said it.
You show me mine,
And I’ll show you yours.
We all come together on the rowboat.
Hey get that graft outta here.
Pencil and it’s done.

Now what’s stopping verse?
It’s just stuck in the arrangement.
There on the outside we locate found.
An inner page is smiling.
It’s bigger than extended wares.
It rockets our ship,
Uses one as its measuring device.
In our unity we are propelled forward.
Are you bothered by that?
Keep in mind hate’s the answer.
Until we turn the page.

The inside line,
This fashions poetry.
You’re about listening
To inspiration sing.
Art comes from this page.
Hear it?
Go home.
I am right in the middle of it.
Are you busy with your wares?
He gives to her a gift –
A green card.
You get so angry and so…
My goal is don’t care.
We’ll let you fall out.
You’ll have a few minutes to stay on with this bread.
Maturity at any rate,
Stretched to reach too.
He’d dance and look away,
The poet who didn’t hear a thing.

I Give a Poem for the Killing

It’s not like you didn’t know that.
Booby-trap,
That got your line of thinking.
What’s the game plan anyway?
Create a shortcut
To the whereabouts of poetry.
And yeah unable to
Most target holders.
We break rules with inspiration.
The neighborhood of the world
Doesn’t
Keep these bags
In English,
In the poetry
Today listens to.

What is a poem?
How tah grow.
Come on
You simple wayside fool,
Whadda you mean?
I’m trying to say a flavor,
How high it is
Than Jane see Dick run,
From that bag of groceries,
From let’s all look at me.
Is that enough room for yah?
Can you count sheep?
How many
Poems we write today,
It’s a sickness.
Can’t see the picture of it.
A soap opera.
Is that all we’re worth?
A giant lives here.
His name?
Let’s call infinity inside.
There’s that mysticism.
A mystic can be
Gravity.
Oh no you’re not up yet.

A view of reality
Sits on something.
It’s a biological clock.
You can die on any day
My good fellows.
Any ecosystem can crash.
To know the difference
Between real and apparent fact
Has us all standing in line.
I’m gonna leave it back to yah.
And the distinctive
Measure of my idiom
Is the creative corner.

Have I chopped up enough to say?
You wouldn’t like it.
We throw it away?
Oh my God,
It must be in collage.
Came out
Hopeful.
Wait a minute,
Drop his pants a minute will yah?
Where were you?
Where poetry looks at abysses.
I have to go.
I move poetry.
I throw that out
To hospital
A good keeping.

Law of Sacrifice New Lame

A specific toolbar
To help wrap itself in the body of an e-mail,
What field change motion.
I would say on your mark get set.
Rocketed by past disasters,
This time life will curl up and give me a lift.
Just down here beautiful.
No I don’t have any
Red hell for people.
Daddy can I have some cookie,
Little piece?
Oh I have to be killed.
View headlines:
Prize winning poet dies at seventy-four.
Only it will pass over him.
What a lanky breath to take.
It’s not my last in sunshine.
A lot of times They don’t.
We read poetry to thunder.
Want Us to use your project, your imagination?
But be careful,
Fire is hot.
I’ve granted good permission.
It will clean your room.
Can I share with some friends?
You see I moved away from everybody,
Got really quiet.
The time to publish,
I’d do that
Where my work was tall enough to read.
Hit with the film in my shoulder.
I didn’t see a good movie.
That guy’s complainin’ about your need
To celebrate your intention,
Get up in front of everybody and show and tell.
Lavish baby,
This came out of me.
The umpire
Know better.
In the draft you can see the changes he made,
Major changes.
What about deleting?
Oh.
Will you
Stop pretending you’re a poet?
Involve life more.
Pencil down deep.
Can’t you just go to school,
Stop hoppin’ on everybody’s ears?
I’m not alone you bay.
You’re not listenin’.
That’s not how it hangs out.
A repertory of arms,
I would caution you before you proceed.
There’s little in your canister of life.
You have no deep seated purpose
To evolve the living word.
It’s not a death race to get out.
You mean little by it
Except to be looked at and praised.
Share this with your inmost teacher.
Keep it private until the words of themselves
Demand a public read.
You evolving
Will order you first in there.
That’s what we have
To stick to some growth factors.
As entertainment
We collage out verse.
What a wasted quill.
Beginning vision of some logic,
Whatever that foot taught you,
There is no poetry there.
If they are poetry entrance
Some moved world has come by
And turned the course of your day.
Poetry fashions literature,
Is what makes the stars come out.
Are you listening Robert Word?
I can take you on a journey to Time’s end.
Oh my God,
This is not my best interest.
Are you sure?
It’s where we begin as Lords daddy.
All these multitudes of poems
A tidal wave upon the scene.
It shouldn’t meet your eyes.
This girl needs to come across
Bigger words than these.
She’s our public worth.
Abandon all ye enter here.
What do you want?
Save the glory for the ride home.
What there a poet sees.

Really?

Being clear in the southern dawn
When applying no medicine
And no bed sheet.
Hey girl,
You’re late,
Or too early.
You beat my face in.
Let’s bring this home.
The reader’s sorry he did that.
I can write anything you want.
Hot wire it.
Livingston Review
Mr. Presume?
I’m all out of harmony.
You’re probably the only kid
Melting butter in the refrigerator,
Not ashamed to be in school in underwear.
It’s him.
Why am I doing this?
The boat’s gettin’ nervous,
Poetry clock.
Rasputin,
Did you die yet?
Comin’,
Go through Paris.

For taking her eye
This is my sit in Time:
Givin’ poetry
What I see.
I had no order of feelin’.
Look now the marriage
That word and me make up.
I’m a parrot
In here or not?
Time’s musings.
The fountain drink.
That bottle was made the poet see.
Bottle up everything
And give it to you.
Maybe I wouldn’t give you a thrill
In loincloth.
I’m a little more expensive
Than plain forward.

Do the knife.
That’s for operating outta there,
That look:
The search,
Get it right.
I DJ
Everybody’s ironed clothes
If you only think that loud.
I don’t know how messy
It already is.
Now swallow the tail.
Plug it in.
Give ‘im up;
That eye of life has a reserve tail.
All the windows in it.
Break is it true?
I do have
Some stock.
Just a second
In order to serve on gas.

I actually imitate farming.
I’m about meaning.
Can you find it?

The Most Progressive Word

I guess those poets,
Bring ‘em to the university.
We can control ‘em.
We wouldn’t want people gettin’ any wrong ideas.
I know,
It’s time to put
A good point,
A good job,
Here where we bank.
The things that I get into.
What?
Knife,
I took it you might want it.
I’m domesticated.
I’m what change.
Granted give it to somebody
Now,
Now later.
Were you tired girl?
Reduce in your hand.
The status quo wins the election.
In the march of Time
Something gets broken.
I hardly even fix it.
Is that the only anomaly?
I remain the same.
Just appearances
Look different.
Hey,
I grab a lot of luster
A technological filibuster.
Gadgets,
I look good on them.
I wagonload this.
The human fabric,
Do you count change here?
Is that an armyman?
The meaning in life,
Do you put life there?

Look at ‘im.
The mirror sees us.
As you observe my verse
You give it handle to flip-flop.
Put it there because I want to use the computer.
Distance yourself
From everything you believe.
Can you believe something different?
India, India;
Leprechaun, leprechaun –
Airborne first trip training.
Family as defined by family,
It took away
That not family is family.
Now we destroy the world
Or pollute it away.
Would we rise one?
Say unity held the picture.
We are one in our very stuff of existence
Different we can be,
Even nations all in harmony –
Distinct, independent, sovereign.
There’s our mountain of change.
Monumental she would ride.

I met ‘im yesterday.
There was a poet’s favor in times past
To change.
I thought it was just flowerdy speech.
I thought it was just some pompous regard.
No you think better
You take an extra day
To consider a poem.
Now tell me how we been
Doin’ things so far,
We as a race as a species.
We’ve been bent on destruction.
A poet kneads that,
Shows us the way out
Where language has ‘im first.
Carrying you tonight.
Pull away blind thinker.
They don’t have sports class,
Poets from the university.
They’re not deep enough to row.
Subtle is my fingers.
We need poetry out of the museum.
I’m sittin’ here thinkin’:
Will you read this poem?
I’m not university approved.
I should’ve
Set this to someone
Understands poetry.
You got set,
And you’re not going anywhere.
Won’t work.
You’re gonna have to do it,
And that’s change.
That change
Is there in the poet.
You know what I mean.
How many
Got your shadow?
If one does change
We see
Pretty far.
Dare look at it,
The future in verse?
Hey wait a minute,
Something’s are good,
But is this poet here beyond spheres?
Is his life the example light?
Send ‘im.
He can be somewhere
And give the reader an answer:
What key
They’re both big enough
To use to change.
You need some guidance.
Here is
A recent development:
Poetry opens up
In English
To the One.

We all do.
It’s stupid battle.
Let’s see here.
They’re raisin’ hands:
Yes I contribute
To the mess of things.
It’s unbelievable
How much we call other people bad.
It must be what we want:
This here’s a bad world.
You know this.
Need to apply this as a world view:
The wart’s on my mind;
I make snake too.
Everybody does.
Second forbid,
Come on,
One future:
The deviant ones,
The social malaligned,
Defined expertly
To include the troublemaker,
We keep them
From becoming our Jews
In Nazi Germany.
Cause he hears tanks.
I can’t find them.
Listen to the News.
Like it’s normal
Callin’ someone that.
To dehumanize them.
Heralds be fair.
Give us one to hate.
Trick us.
We make scapegoats.
Yeah I prepared
Food.
The Internet,
There’s not a person that
Caution you against it.
Can you see what’s comin’?
And out of the deal we get
Basically
Something of a world on line.
Online controls you.
You don’t really appreciate
African village.
No net.
This is a broadcast
Got your meaning at stake.
Give it room.
I’ve gathered for yah
Your wakeup call.
You told us what the hell is going on.
Just between us
I’ll put One.
Basically
You and me,
We get together,
We come along.
Know what to do,
Starting paragraphs.
Come upon One inside.
Now open your eyes
Frank.

What do you think?
The close-up crowd,
Well then all paranoid?
We don’t have room for that.
I would put it out of my hat.
You think fear makes us bigger?
I’m not shoppin’ for lies.
It’s not a conspiracy test.
We read developments.
How many governments there are,
Ruling bodies.
Everyone wants to rule.
So many people to control.
Who feels safe anymore?
The business spirit
The call to worth.
All this talk of competitive edge,
There’s the animal in us,
Territorial for sure.
Just sit there and be human.
Is that all we are?
You have no idea.
I think I should show you what I’ve seen.
I’m specifically aboard
The train to larger aim.
Relax,
It’s not made in South Africa.
Let me have that chance,
A greater me.
I wanna show you that mountain
Because look,
This is the same ground we’re on.
What got his land.
Now read the rest.
Humanity’s at the gate.
Believe it or not,
It was humanity drive around
The universe
In the fullness of Time.
Set some conditions.
Everybody else
Finally
Makes change their number one alloy.
And that’s prefigure One,
What the One would be if it wore a face.
This is the independent.
Unity here.
That sounds bigger
Than some religious worship shop.
It is bigger,
But we have to make a pit stop on the moon.
Hey now what’s going on?
Flowers,
Ulysses accepts flowers.
Athena and they all would be proud of ‘im.
I’m tryin’ to tell you gold.
Tryin’ to find someone
Verse this.
Want the heavens or something like that.
Alright my literary bond,
Can you call evolution further?
Definitely have to move on to some higher type.
Let’s call it divine instead.
And atheist would just sit there.
Must kick the boys home.
How do we operate?
Doesn’t like to be tied in the house that poor girl.
You’re gonna change
Wherever in life you’re at,
Whatever you do to make a livin’.
I don’t think there’s a rulebook for this.
What’s standin’ close?
You journey on the inside.
It weighs a ton
Until you get past all the charms.
You idiot,
You don’t have a mission.
I mean he’s serious.
I know exactly what he’s tryin’ to say.
The one place
You progress change,
You go inside.
Now look around.
It’s your inner view
Gives the world its glow.
Comin’ up,
Whatever we do to block it.
Remember I told yah
Here in this poem
How long ago?

Eunoia Nil

(A poem about the poem Eunoia by the Canadian poet Christian Bök, sent to his website)

Ugly,
As if it doesn’t feel itself.
It explains its nature,
Verbosity.
I’m long on line.
Who are the plebes here,
This intellectual giant?
A poet’s got his ring wrong.
There are no people in his notebook.
His literary friends,
And they don’t know him either.
Can he see himself?
The new verse,
Who fashions it?
Can he call himself that?
I would remain tedious.
Can we mention movements?
I’ve read about them.
Here let me write them down,
Somewhere.
I’m a mediocrity boulder.
Dance with me?
I can’t seem out of step.
I have no inner wear.
It’s a life in a bottle.
Would you drink to me?

What’s the big deal
Make it with something,
All that work?
I was gonna ask you something else.
I was gonna talk to you about something.
You seem to know what time is.
I guess you can
Entry-board.
What?
Put up your writing as a showcase,
Give all these hoax of problems,
Average language wear,
Run away from meaning,
Claim the right of insight,
Use a celebrity pitch and pull,
Call everyone else a liar,
Spend hours showing us nothing.
What have you joined together?
Where has your fancy taken us,
A better perch on life?
I understand the argument:
Scientific experiment for science sake.
Turn that paper down.
We live here.
Is feeling a fiction?
Do we die here?
I mention your rose.
What feeling does it evoke?
Is it tall enough to climb?
Pity, horror, shame,
They cast low,
But they’re larger than your paper.
Cynicism,
That rots in the gut doesn’t it?
You try to beckon lights,
Light fuses,
But you can’t get up.
We’re left with this verbal stew
With all these differences
Taste can’t sort out.
That’s your vision wrote?

Not that he’ll ever read this thing,
But underneath
What you think
You’ll find your vision’s arc.
Go read that.
The new verse,
That’s where it is.
To prepare for it
You would silence
The active part of your brain.
That’s where I’m coming from.
The name of this rocket?
Poetry.

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