mmmccix

an anachronizm*

in which I present to you a poem

[and, simultaneously, an introduction to another poem]

which is just one of many that exists in what is now a considerably 

lengthy accumulation of poems that are attempts, at heart, intended, 

among an array of additional stuff to skew time in such a way, utilizing 

many means, some of them original with regard to intent, others 

serendipitous, in a sort of mixed-bag way that brings into or out of 

focus various aspects of a life lived. I am thinking now that this is not 

unlike how a prism, when utilized, may, for one who observes, bring 

light itself into ‘focus,’ create color, emphasize.

but to limit is not only to reduce, it also limits. to exclude.

so as to focus.

maybe to release that which binds time and [ space ]
might expose.  and it does.  I am not just an observer, 

my intent is not simply to observe, and

as a poet, or journalist, or a social anthropologist, to report.

This is not simply an awkward means of coaxing
an ego ever towards hubris. (or, boy, do I ever

hope that this is not only what I do; am doing)

Yeah, but in the act of doing so (conscientiously?) . . .

(always this stultifying need to explain myself!)

But can I be scientist enough that I also remove my 

self from the results (I am

suggesting a rather lofty strip tease here, and
while I have dressed – and begun to undress?)....

This notion as an enticing one, as well as what
seems an ironic one to me, but I will tell you
that it isn’t what I am going for here.

(If I throw myself in all of my various incarnations.

If, as a purported sentient being, I pin a carnation
to my lapel;

if all I do is fret and strut and ham it up, waving my
arms all about, as if to only say

“Look at me!! Look at me!!!” . . . .

Well, and why not?)

(but, what would that di but enteratain...)

All I am trying to say you is that I’ve got a poem for
you. And I do most civilly offer it to you, for your 
consideration. That might be enough.  But it’s not 

the point at all. My point is, well, I shall make my 

point tomorrow. 

This must be frustrating. A poem. Trying to ex-
plain it all to you. Going about making any point
at all. It does get a bit ridiculous. But there
is an impulse in me that is contrary to that (line

of thought?). Or. How’s this: if you come back
tomorrow, I will present to you that for which 

you are, at this very moment, taking the time 

to read (and for this, dear friend, I

am enormously grateful), which is mere introduction.

With that, I say good night and good day. And I
hope to meet you here (or anywhere, if it comes

right down to it) tomorrow.

*I am a poet and not a scientist
  (an alternative title)