GARBLE
I stutter
I garble
something
leaves my mouth
dies on the air
not quite mine
and now
millennia later
Jacques D
turns me
upside down
says I
should have
written it down
(focusing
on metaphor,
eschewing rhyme)
and,
following that cue exactly,
what was once there garbled
finds form
function structure even
as
dances across the page
and now
internalized, compartmentalized,
I live inside
a structure, penned in
by these
four walls, a
structure of structures
infinitely layered, anything
but solid in
the old
classical sense
though it will
always surely appear so
story of
our entire take on everything
modus vivendi
with the Universe
fairy
tale and fable
treatise, principia, tractatus,
tall
and charming
tale alike
of what we are, always were,
never shalt be, how
we do and
where
we
came from
stardust rotting
under burial soil
so hapless, helpless, truly
marvellous, utterly outstanding,
as yet again
I garble as I try to
do it justice, go for balance
in expression
wrong and misconstrued
despite (because of) every
total global consensus
and here
you have whispered it,
captured it
sealed it in a nutshell
more perfectly than all that I
by very name
and definition
could ever get
within
striking distance
ever dying just short
of having achieved
poems 2 die for 