gone on long enough, revive this

I realize that ... Oh.
Well, I forgot what I was going to say there and I could just delete that whole line, but I'd rather not--because it sounded so official and instructional. Hmm.

You might think I've gone on about poetry long enough and I keep saying the same things over and over, but I'm really stuck in the middle of some poetry questions and problems that I can't get out of. Like the U2 song, "...Don't say that later will be better, now you're stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it..." Maybe I like being stuck in this moment, while at the same time wishing I were making the progress I seem unable to make.

I've been very unproductive the past few days... but, here is something I'm working on. Is this poetry even? Is anything poetry really?


THIS MAY DESERVE a tiny SOMETHING

forward on BACK
make seem harder than is MYSTERIOUS
want to make harder BRAINWASH MENTALITY
to the nonsenth-power FREAK
awkward melon FUNNY FRUIT
too diverse? SALAD PARTY ANXIETY
paradox of emotion of control WHO IS THIS PARADOX FAN?
finder of incompatibility? AND FLAVORED ENCYCLOPEDIAS

fear of rocking chairs and ever-wondering whether this exists
POETRY EXISTS
brainchild cantelope of philosophy
tongue-show THE FUN OF MAKING BOLOGNA
expression, Tupperware ANOTHER COOL PARTY
coinage, the technical term FOR WONDER-BREAD, ITS MASTERY
flinging popsicle sticks out from ears, nostrils
REALLY ANY HEAD-PORE

know, fear and fear FROLIC IN WOODS
failure to write another one well
that every possibly-existing man worries? WHETHER CREATION OF FLAVORS
AND COINAGE OF FAVORS
orally injested, performed SOUNDS ODD
this "lump[ing]" throat-sore was EMO
sucky taste-judge ACCORDING TO FAMILY AND TEXTBOOKS

hypotaxis, radience converts one transparency
INTO INKHORN SECRETS
would be trickery SHOVING FAUX SATIN UP YOUR SLEEVES
till the rose of moonlight SPIES SURPRISE
let lumpy throats exist to relieve FEAR OF PAST EXPERIENCES
reintroduce reductions MEMORY MEMORIZE
would sit in the same seats over and over, hold the same CONVERSATION OVER
and over too? UNDER CROSS-LEGGED CRAVINGS
for someone unspecific YET SPECIFICALLY WITHOUT EXPERIENCE
a single untouched letter LETTER GO NOW
whether virgin and sterile
OR STALE?
stale unknown prior to touch? SO NIETHER, BUT OVERUSED
brainchild mumble OUT THE WINDOW WHERE
crab-apples blossom MAYBE

once-used in the tumble, sit down WITH DRIVE KIND OF LUNGE
that something great could COME OF THIS
hand TOO SLOW
cause for jerks, lapses in CONSCIOUSNESS YES
un, sub, blank and blank blank WERE
AWARE
ready, worked? WORKED? DRIVEN?
what is unknown FEELS PRIVELEDGED, ENTITLED
would have no longing BUT THEMSELVES

...
Well, now that you've read whatever mess I've laid here... what conclusions can you make? Is there a theme anywhere here, an overlying theme? I keep writing things and then struggling to find a unified whole among the parts... but, I think there may be some sort of unification, even if small. And it's okay, too, when not everything makes sense. I'm telling myself this, reassuring myself that what I've written truly is poetry.

I actually started an essay of sorts about this, in which I sought to connect poetry and my confusions thereabout to Christianity. To the relationship-aspect of Christianity. I'll keep working on it... I think if I posted it right now, it all might come out disorderly (much like the rest of this post).

And I think I need to stop claiming that everything I write and think is disorderly and full of chaos. My name is not chaos; my name is not "thinker in chaos" nor "one whose mind is jarbled or warbled." I have a nice name, different from those... and I am a House of God.

The end for now, though I could go on many other tangents.