Language Suite, Part III
for Ron Silliman
Grey cat scratches at beige carpet.
Bit of a trance state.
Politically correct poetry.
That phrase is not referential.
Ponderously pissed pachyderms.
Porously pleated Platypus.
Form without content.
A flattening of the core grammar.
Bring the water to the well.
Fill your lyrebird with syntax.
How must words be ordered when
thoughts must be free to fly.
Conjunction junction
has lost its function.
Paint emotion pictures.
The word less. Store more lore.
Pigeons forget their cities.
Diversify your beverages.
If you are seeking a story
you are seeking in vain.
Inhere the story.
Only readers possess that power.
No need Noman need narrate
no necessities. Poor old Noman;
just another melting snowman.
Escapades egregious: only look
to find them where you are.
America is open twenty four seven.
Titillating tacos for the taking.
Say a word never said.
Write a word never written.
Impossible.
Originality a pragmatically
unoriginal constraining concept.
Pluck the low hanging fruit.
Make that kazoo toot! toot!
Dream of your car lost
in a dangerous neighborhood.
You might can do that but
it confers no ownership.
The periplum plies pleasantly
chilly tropics: shivering tigers,
anacondas in snowsuits,
flamingos in fur.
Again that damn cat
scratches but the walls of a box,
deciding to be or not to be
or both or neither…
Noman wakes wide into
a world of whirled dis-ease.
What occurred in the interim
not never original.
Bitter a bird in hand.
Alls well that sends swell.
