sometimes the words escape me
Thirteen Ways a Poet Reads a Poemby Joseph Hutchison[A]1) I know what it’s doing,but I could makea poem myselfthat did the same.2) I know what it’s doing,and knowing I couldnever do it, I also knowI’d never want to.3) Knowing what it’s doing,I know I could nevermake a poem do itbut would kill if I could.4) I don’t know whatit’s doing and suspectthe poet also doesn’t havethe faintest clue either.5) I don’t know what it’s doing,and my knocks at the doorhave gone unanswered,and there’s no welcome mat,no place at all to look for a key.6) Though I don’t knowwhat it’s doing, I can’t stopre-reading it, beguiledby this dreamy commotionbetween my ears.[B]7) I know what my poemis doing but know,too, that any trainedmonkey could do it.8) I know what my poemis doing and yes, I neverwanted it to do it but it’sdoing it anyway.9) What I know about whatmy poem is doing, and whatI don’t know about why,weigh the same, and I knowI must honor that balance.10) What my poem is doingI don’t know, and moreoverfear it may be onanistic,though maybe it’s only a wayto pass time before the living end.11) I don’t know what it’s doing,my poem, and have thrownmany pebbles in the nightat my own bedroom window,in vain.12) My poem is doing something,though I don’t know what,but I keep rewriting it as ifI knew why—lost in the darkbardo of that “as if”.[C]13) I knowthat I don’t knowwhat I’m doingwriting this.Et tu, Reader,reading it?If you do know,lend me your tongue!The suspense iskilling me.=======Yes, not really a poem ... nevertheless...
A kind of taxonomy of poetic approaches. And amusing too.
Thirteen Ways a Poet Reads a Poem
ReplyDeleteby Joseph Hutchison
[A]
1) I know what it’s doing,
but I could make
a poem myself
that did the same.
2) I know what it’s doing,
and knowing I could
never do it, I also know
I’d never want to.
3) Knowing what it’s doing,
I know I could never
make a poem do it
but would kill if I could.
4) I don’t know what
it’s doing and suspect
the poet also doesn’t have
the faintest clue either.
5) I don’t know what it’s doing,
and my knocks at the door
have gone unanswered,
and there’s no welcome mat,
no place at all to look for a key.
6) Though I don’t know
what it’s doing, I can’t stop
re-reading it, beguiled
by this dreamy commotion
between my ears.
[B]
7) I know what my poem
is doing but know,
too, that any trained
monkey could do it.
8) I know what my poem
is doing and yes, I never
wanted it to do it but it’s
doing it anyway.
9) What I know about what
my poem is doing, and what
I don’t know about why,
weigh the same, and I know
I must honor that balance.
10) What my poem is doing
I don’t know, and moreover
fear it may be onanistic,
though maybe it’s only a way
to pass time before the living end.
11) I don’t know what it’s doing,
my poem, and have thrown
many pebbles in the night
at my own bedroom window,
in vain.
12) My poem is doing something,
though I don’t know what,
but I keep rewriting it as if
I knew why—lost in the dark
bardo of that “as if”.
[C]
13) I know
that I don’t know
what I’m doing
writing this.
Et tu, Reader,
reading it?
If you do know,
lend me your tongue!
The suspense is
killing me.
=======
Yes, not really a poem ... nevertheless...
A kind of taxonomy of poetic approaches. And amusing too.
ReplyDelete