I dare you:
1. A twenty line poem without any words of more that one syllable.
2. A twenty line poem without the word “the” in it.
3, A ten line poem that, when read forward and backward, provides two different poems.
Betcha can’t do it. (For the record, I’ve done all three at various points.)
Present the same information
twice and you are either crazy
or a gemcutter opening new roads
into a perfect stone. Bother us
with something too often and
you’re either a bore or a prophet,
but don’t try to sell us on the latter
unless we blink when you mention the former.
Grow up, baby. Grow up
and smell the bitter herbs. Stick a hand
out the window and tell yourself that’s not rain.
Anywhere you look there will be someone
who doesn’t care if the flood’s come again,
or who doesn’t believe in water. Let the animals
come to your call and we might scratch our heads
for a few, but then we’ll be back to the daily whirl
and you’ll be all alone to herd the creatures indoors.
Present the same information twice
and you’ll either be a bore or a stonemason
stacking up the cruel bricks. Don’t try to make us
believe that those are different things. Cut the blocks,
cut the diamond, cut and run while there’s time,
while wormwood is on the breeze
and the boat’s begun to float.
I deliberately stayed away from the laptop all day. Didja miss me?
I went to an open mike in Fall River tonight — VERY FOLKIE. Very. A few high points: Faro on solo bass; a 16 year old Dylaneseque kid named Matt Borillo who is already good, not gonna-be-good; the band Low Anthem, who’ll be playing the Java Hut in January. We shall go see them, we shall.
Faro persuaded me to do something, so the two of us did “Getting Ahead” and “Snakes On A Plane.” It went over well enough that I got approached for a feature there afterwards. Cool.
More later, if anything raises its ugly head and wants to be let out.
Dark Matter 