Poem on the last page of a 1994 Austin zine called 'DAMN', or Equinox of My Own Sanity 10:47 p.m.
Poem on the last page of a 1994 Austin zine called ‘DAMN’,
or Equinox of My Own Sanity 10:47 p.m.
by Quasimofo
[tour guide: “And to the left we have preserved in ice a young late 20th
century post-post-modernist poet who attempted to eclipse the aesthetical
nature of man by merging its foreparts with ethical manifestations.
Implicit in the ideology is the notion that meticulous imagination leads to
the discovery and redefinition of our whole moral-beauty outlook or else we
all die and go straight to hell.”]
the day upshod my habits and explicitly de-railed
the boiling
spaghetti-axis of my silly perspectives.
like the time my brother shop-lifted 2 fishing lures from a grocery store
without my knowing, i could now
only picture myself
with different clothes, different friends,
and a new consumption pattern-stay at home.
CLEANING INSTRUCTIONS on a string bikini:
“The radius of our sentiments are determined
by the circumference of our own creative unconventionality.
In sum, liken it to a pair of purple checkered shorts
that constantly need washing on the permanent press cycle
with Arm and Hammer detergent to maintain the fullness of the purple
and the placement and precision of the checkers.”
the bait of wonder incites an artistic French Revolution
in the psyche guillotining roguish aristocrats
like Dr. Alexander who critique poetry
without ever having written any-damn right, man,
metaphors are a big freshwater bass that make us feel
like other feelings-
a comparative analysis you see, reason is for robots
and the subconscious mystique is what alludes every rat’list
into denial.
one line of metered iambic pentameter for the doubter:
To look upon the roach that ate my cheese.
Poetry is the situation that could happen if everybody
actually went when the light turned green.
good read.
okay. more than just a good read…I can elaborate, just as you did with mine. turnabout is fair play. and pair flay is good too. the [intro] is genius. excellent wordage, is very smooth and official sounding and completely hilarious. and funny ’cause its true.
I’d like to spend some time picking your brain about this; ’cause I’m lazy.
Best part:
“Poetry is the situation that could happen if everybody
actually went when the light turned green.”
Savage, thanks for the feedback. Pickin’ my brain is easy-pickins–kind of like pickin’ cotton–there’s a lot of FLUFF! But yeah, I wrote this poem back in 94′, the hey-day of Grunge and Generation X. I was living in San Marcos, Tx. at the time going to grad school and working in an old wood-moulding factory with some funny Mexicans. I vaguely remember drunken volleyball at the beer-barn, tip-toeing lightly my head filled with fantasies of Winona Ryder, Lollapallooza 3, and this poem. I was reading some book by Camille Paglia, which inspired the intro and bass-line of the poem. Some parts transition poorly, and is thus more than a little A.D.D (which I still have trouble with today…see ‘The Triumph of Pills’). But what the hell, experimental runs that risk. As Brenda Ueland would say: “Better to strangle an infant in its cradle than to nurse unacted desires”…