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 (now?
sure. now!) a considerably lengthy accumulation of poems
that are attempts, individually and summarily, at heart, fun
damentally intended to, among an array of additional stuff
(what I am saying here is that there is a growing list of
twisting, turning and evolving fundamentals, but the one
that I am focusing on at present is that I mean 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, throw-everything-in way that brings
into or out of focus various aspects of, a new perspective
on, 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’
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; it has; I have seen it]
I am not just an observer, my intent is not simply
to observe, and
as a journalist, a report, a social anthropologist, as
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 if I scrutinize self, in so doing, might I be so
rational that I may – can I be scientist enough
that I – also remove my self in the process (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 (alas!) is not 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, really...)
All I am trying to say you is that I’ve got a poem for
you. But not this one. I mean, yes, this is a poem,
too. And I do most civilly offer it to you, for your – I’ll
just say consideration, and be done with it. But
that’s not the point at all. My point is, well, I shall
make my point tomorrow. Is that ,,, I know this
surely must seem ,,, well ,,, I was going to say
frustrating. This particular poem. Trying to ex-
plain it all to you. Going about making any point
at all. It does get a bit ridiculous. I know. Or I
would think. Well, I do think. But, obviously, 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, while perhaps grounding myself
more particularly or specifically within the confines
of time (considering, just between you and me, that
this is the sort of specificity, that is, setting a scene
that is focused specifically on a very particular and
authentic and singular moment in time, that I’ve
exerted no small effort avoiding, here, in this
particular location, using this specific means of
conveyance, over these many years), 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) is a 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.
