Friday, March 28, 2014

Poem: Speakeration


Denmother pigeons calling to
the judge, woohooing the
calcified remnants of
Meredith’s final lecture.

I had best not see your
scene over the level of your
paragraph. One cannot contain
the other I think by now if
you were paying attention you
would know. Am I understood?

To which thereby the clarity
police sent in a heretofore
thereupon, delineating the very
meaning of meaning and/or
definition as evidenced by the
somnirepticular gnomes of Arvingdon.

(Hello. My name is Mark.
Would you like a conversation?)

I feel sometimes when I
say what I say that
you are instead thinking
what you think,
and that troubles me.

What I have here is a ball point pen.
What I have here is a cellular phone.
If you are liable to take
one and not the other,
there is no question but that
we may understand one
another or not but the

Thing is, if we don’t at
least try, how can we, in
all good intents, call
ourselves rhinoceroses?

I love and respect you
nearly some of the time,
but if you continue to
misrepresent yourself in
this fashion, I will be
forced to keep talking.

And nobody wants that.

From the collection Fields of Satchmo
Photo by MJV 
Sculpture by Greg Hill

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