|Something to do with Swollen Lymph Nodes
Let's go carve our names in a stump with a heart
in between them, pick every damn dandelion in sight
to hand out to undeserving ruffians just because and
then go home to make some weird Asian tea we can't
pronounce. If love doesn't encompass pocket knife
etching, gathering flora, or steeping strange herbs,
then count me out. There's nothing more sinister
than a Hummer trying to parallel park
in front of the cathedral. Dinging bumpers while the bell tolls.
I think a certain peace is realized after successfully
ripping open a bag of Ruffles. If you pick and pick and pick
you'll get the price tag off the wine bottle or a rivulet
of blood down the calf and it's always just for you,
so why bother? So much stripping away to get to
gooey centers we wouldn't even know what to do with.
We've all had the dream where we hand our father
the 3/8 inch socket to tighten something ironically metric
and awaken without the grease or grime recurring.
Oh shucks love! Open a fresh box of Kleenex.
See if you can pull out just one.
11 Feb 11
Rated 8.3 (7.8) by 21 users.
Active (21): 10, 10, 10, 10, 10
Inactive (9): 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10
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Delightful from start to finish. Love 'ironically metric'.
i love this kind of lashing at the throat.
greatest line: 'There's nothing more sinister than a Hummer trying to parallel park
in front of the cathedral.'
wonder why Hummer, just too great to even think of it, you clever! ;)
You should consider screenwriting--your phrases are punchy and memorable, and the speech is natural, as though its' coming off the tip of he tongue. And, also you'd look good in pictures!
HAHA, sinnister to drive that fukcing jackass showoff box w/wheels that cost more than a small house. fuckers deserve to be horsewhipped and their genitals airmailed back to them via a carrier pigeon with SARS. ;)
by the way, hawk, nothing says love like steeping some wierd fucking tea together ;) :) when shall i bring the oolong??? :)
I love you oolong time!
You do understand that most poets will not get you, don't you?
HAH! Is that so?
Baby you have just the sense of humor I could eat up.
Humor is my life blood and I don't even get myself! I'd eat you right up, too... got a grapefruit spoon handy?
...some of us are still waiting to see you draped on the couch with your shirt undone...
:) sybar you naughty thing you, why you trying to spoon in on my oolong tea night??
...we could share...
How about that Hawk? oolong for 3? you can be in the middle :)
No problem... you can be oo I'll be long and syb can be tea
and just in case it's a bit of a tight fit, I'll bring the baby oil.. ;)
ooO di you say long? :) ok ok.
thanks for entertaining my brain.
favourite lines are 10-14. absolutely exellent poem.
Are you doing wordcuts, Hawk?
Whatever, the blender's on fire.
Blendin' up splattered thoughts! Many thanks to Jk, sybs and unkies for stopping by and having a read!
Happy Valentine Hawk
this is awesome. (how did i miss it?)
love every line- especially 19-20, it Is hard to pull out just one tissue. ;)
Yer welcome! I like playing in your sandbox.
There is the issue taken up in ratios of "lymph nodes" after another ergo of the infinite dandelion (taken from a quantitative starting point but with the same results as qualitative infinity —i.e., we never reach a true quantitative infinity but always reach just a new finite quantum: thus such infinity is mere "spurious infinity" of bells). Recall that with "cathedral and flora" there is nothing in reality in isolated poetic dialectics here, and this is immediately apparent within the area of quantitative ratio: pulling just 'one' Kleeenex. With a posited leverage of the "parallel park", we are obviously holding two distinct things in contrast, yet the result is a single thing which binds the poetical arguments/flow into a whole. The result of a run on paragraph is something old and new which is based upon and includes all the classical, poetical, and dialectic arguments that draw conclusions that one would expect, and not expect.
^ What a load of crap.
^Do you always call what you don't understand crap?
The poem is not crap. That asinine commentary was crap.
Sorry. The disjoint doesn't work for me all that well: I gather the subject (title) is pretty darn serious . . .. so albeit an occasional tiptoe thru teh rudimentary sarcasm to be expected, this one is too perniciously imbued with an infatuated infantilism.
There's nothing more sinister
than a Hummer trying to parallel park
in front of the cathedral.
Really. How bout dying . . . you know, passing away . .. expiring .. biting the fukin dust . .. just when your realized that the prufrock of your dreams (har har profuse use of ellision/collision) was a complete pile of bullshit?
. . . . did you mean? . . . .
I am not the least bit offended, irritated, or discouraged by any criticism... I invite it... I write the only way I know how... I am flattered you took the time to break it down like you did..I do tend to look at the world through a humorous and sarcastic lens, and maybe sometimes to a fault... all points well taken and no hard feelings... keep writing and reading and continue the never ending dialogue!
Knowing perhaps a bit of who might influence your writing as you have mentioned in the past somewhat fuses this a bit for me. However, it feels more counter-contextual?
I suppose what I am getting at is that it is more like eating the coffee grinds sitting in the filter and dumping the pot you just brewed down the sink.
I am not saying there is anything wrong with that either. There's something to it. I suppose at times though, I am equally interested in the field that grows around the cornflower as I am in the purple buds that stand out in contrast to the surrounding scene.
It carries some of the self-aware writing attitude and audience addressing persona that Dean consciously dabbles in. He pulls in and out of it more though as far as I have read. There seems to be the fleshed out notion of what he once wrote: "you think that's a fucked up, drawn out metaphor, try this" compressed into an obscure little series.
It's as though to believe if one moves fast enough, one might be able to escape immediate association altogether. Be wary of fancy footwork and the clever line though. Pushed too far it will land itself on the shelf in a gag shop.
It is interesting to indulge in though, the fit and fist of writing when removed from the backdrop.
I happen to feel the heart of this little composition is in L16-L18. I believe that is where you really fell into the heart of the moment of what you were writing. Also maybe a bit of the inner reflection off of L11-L15.
I happen to like your attitude in this and towards some of the response. Writing with a little abandon is a good thing. It presents opportunity, another avenue to wander.
It's all conversations with the self an the invisible audience anyway. Habitual.
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Shoe-- that was the most thoughtful and insightful response I've ever received. I feel like you understand my writing and my motivation and me... kind of eerie how accurately you pinpointed the poignant moments... grounded surrealism, if you will..
I'm forever indebted... thank you so much.
by the way, have you heard about Mr. Young's health issues... http://coldfrontmag.com/news/video-psa-dean-young-benefit-n yc
Keep at it JP. The one thing I love about Dean is that he always goes "all in" and lets it ride. There's a lot to appreciate about someone willing to do so.
I read of his condition back in December of last year. I nearly mentioned it here a few times, and even thought of mentioning it in my above comment, but decided against it. I did write vaguely towards my hearing of it within a poem a while back. Though it would be difficult for one to correlate as I did not want to make a direct reference to it. More of a personal response, closed within itself, along with some other events.
I figured you would be aware of his condition, and those who followed poetic events/figures would be aware as well.
I hope he receives a transplant and or recovers from current condition.
i always thought this site should allow the favouriting of poets as well as poems.
yes indeed swollen nodes
Oh ya, i like it like that
why Ruffles? When you could have gone with a trifle of truffles. bop.
This is the way to ramble. Readers take notes.
A few lines breaks wouldn't kill you. Really.
I like the way you work. But anonymous? Really? This is the Internet, what the hell are you scared of? Would like to read some more poems...but wait, I can't, because you posted anonymously.
You have a voice. Don't change a thing. Except maybe some lines breaks.
^what a dumb ____
always swollen, ghost... rocket, thanks for reading and commenting... I didn't want/need line breaks in this one... I wanted the constant flow... and I never post anonymously, so I don't know what that's all about.... cheereo!
does the jpm in your username stand for 'just plain magnificent?'
love love love this. brightened up an otherwise dreadful day. :)
Forgive me the anonymous complaint. The way the site works changed, and I was making an ass of myself. Anyways, good poem.
I love this. Plain and simple.
Well done. Great entertainment!
yes i agree completely and a beautiful poem. a tad on the bloody preachy side .. but hell . . i'll take . .. Ed OOlong
This reads like it was written on speed. It needs some breathers . .. or at least I do (the reader). First cuplet? grammatically misaligned? Something is missing. Possibly carob. etching in plural? or of not then -- then indefinite article in front of 'pocket'? Is this rushed? it feels furiously rushed. Slow down. Im trying to hang on here (white space please?). Hyperbole laid on a bit too thick? the whole point yes but one wants to commiserate. Ln. 17: too much stage direction from poet? (let us the reader, we the pilpel, fill in the necessary modifier?) Last line: go with tissue over brandt name? NIce closer. So mostly nitpicks. From this nit picky reader. Must close the eyes and slow the heart down, drastically. this way the olphactory passages open up wide. this way the magic brownies are spiked with sesame sir prize. Thanks. Lovely just the same. Queen Anne is my name.
Still swollen hawk?
the hawk stands tall
good stuff, jp, as usual.
Yes Yes YES, Favi=right
What an imagination you have, thoroughly enjoyable
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V. nicely put ~ great piece, thanks. :)
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