mmmdcclxxxvii

Another List of Ingredients

nothing tasty, i assure you.
my days of using utensils
with flavored ink are well
behind me. and paper isn’t
the tastiest, either. so this
seems to be the deal with
me lately – start out think
ing about something real,
tangible, and right here in
front of me, most often; or
branded indelibly under my
eyelids or somewhere on the
exterior of my brain (which
is when things most likely
get mucked up, my memory
being what it is), then i devise
some sort of metaphor before get
ting too far into describing this thing
with tangibility. a metaphor which
i then proceed to tear apart, at the
expense of getting to my point too
quickly, a thing that often gets me
sidetracked and likely muddles
clarity while surely losing the
audience to disinterest at best.
what was i going to give you?
is it too late? oh, it likely is.
but not quite. this is my last
one of the month and i’ve
got forty-eight minutes to
finish it and get it out the
virtual door and into this
imaginary mailbox to you
in time, whatever in
time means, which,
as it turns out, is some
thing which i completely
made up, which means it’s
something i could and with
justification of some sort, i’m
sure, remake. the rules. so that
i’m never late, in fact. it could
be done. but will it? not tonight.
oh, forget about the rules for a
moment. that turns out to have
been just another diversion,
another red herring. i was going
to use more random phrases from

the pages in the rather large sheaf 

of my random handwritten notes and 

lists on paper which i’ve accumulated 

over the years and now occasionally use 

to build the odd list poem, using the goofy stuff 

i write down as if to remember something of,

reminders to remember something, or short

to do lists written so sloppily as to often be ill
egible.  each include words i will often take pleasure
turning into words or phrases based on what i think i
see glancing quickly through a mess of some

recreating intention; but who wants to be misread? 

me, at times too often, i suppose.  whatever gets

made up last minute surely must be scads more

interesting than whatever it was originally.

all this messiness can provide a bizarre or

humorous or absurd list or narrative.
the kind of fun and games that i can

turn into a decades-long gig, 

snickering at myself all along

the way.  all done by utilizing 

often indecipherable scribbles
strewn across various pages 

plucked from any number of
moments over the past few
years. but you know what
i just did this time? well,
am about to do? often
i think i’ll be doing one
thing and then go in a
completely different
direction. and is there
anything wrong with
that? it’s not a research
project or a dissertation,
after all. nope. what i’ve
done is just an explanation
of what i do with these
scribbles tucked into a sheaf

from years gone by.
i keep them, it has become

a schtick the purpose of which

has evolved into creating 

a bit of a bauble out of the

mundane (perhaps by now

they have been written with

knowing they would wind up 

somehow in something like

this, well, who can be certain?

even i cannot. but yet, i
have provided to you,
with regard to this
habit, what is,
what literally
becomes of
them, except
in this case,
it was just
a tease,
a ruse to
provide
instead
what i
actually
do. which,
in our case,
is often called
a process. there
you go. that’s a
process, one small
but habitual and long-
standing process among
many, when it comes to me
and how i choose to communicate,

if that is what i am doing.  stay tuned 

if you are beguiled or interested, or even
you are just curious maybe someday some
thing better might come. it usually does. i would 

say. either way, ta for today.