Poem: Speakeration

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