QUANDARY 13
I don’t think I’ve actually been inside the lighthouse
Light visions of fiscal mirth
Ancient of daze, ancient of the roundhouse mooch
Rimbaud in the afterhaze of visual streaming
Fog that fills the afterwave
Allegiance pledged on the roadways
Allegations on the floating bus
Yellow maze of labyrinthine pleasure
I do not get the fish, I do not get the flavor
When the walls come down, vision splinters
Java beans, java anvils, java tanks
We are the big boys now, playing in big boy dreams
Ask not, want not
You may think, that I think, that our love is through
But I think, that our thinking—the thinking man’s Quandary:
Thirteen stripes of aftershave
I am a disco person
In the days of the Holy Ghost
In the blaze of the Very Most
High. How do you actually give…tours?
“There are instructions. There’s a menu.”
And then you wave.
I’ve told people I want a tour, but
No one will give one to me.
My penguin is only 44 days old.
Light visions of fiscal mirth
Ancient of daze, ancient of the roundhouse mooch
Rimbaud in the afterhaze of visual streaming
Fog that fills the afterwave
Allegiance pledged on the roadways
Allegations on the floating bus
Yellow maze of labyrinthine pleasure
I do not get the fish, I do not get the flavor
When the walls come down, vision splinters
Java beans, java anvils, java tanks
We are the big boys now, playing in big boy dreams
Ask not, want not
You may think, that I think, that our love is through
But I think, that our thinking—the thinking man’s Quandary:
Thirteen stripes of aftershave
I am a disco person
In the days of the Holy Ghost
In the blaze of the Very Most
High. How do you actually give…tours?
“There are instructions. There’s a menu.”
And then you wave.
I’ve told people I want a tour, but
No one will give one to me.
My penguin is only 44 days old.
posted by murat11 at 10:05 PM
2 Comments:
I really like this wording and what it envokes for me:
"I am a disco person
In the days of the Holy Ghost
In the blaze of the Very Most
High."
I wonder what the penguin is that is only 44 dyas old...is it something just given birth to? Why a penguin? Penguins don't fly, hmmm.
jsd:
Thanks for the words. Ah, the penguin. For a fair amount of my poetry, a good question is just where the hell was he when he wrote this thing. In the case of Quandary, I was in the midst of 4 middle-schoolers discussing a game involving penguins: apparently, 45 days old was the "turning point" for more privileges. Danger of revealing too much behind the curtain.
I had been laboriously attempting to construct a poem about Rimbaud for most of the week; Friday I found myself chomping at the bit to let loose, to hell with my best laid plans. More often than not, I am attempting to capture a rolling wave of sound and rhythm, with plenty of repetitions. If meaning emerges, so be it, but it (for me) is always of secondary importance.
Peace and rave on from the westside.
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