FIRST EGGY MOUTHFUL
“on ne saurait faire d’omelette sans casser des œufs” attributed to François de Charette.
so there I was
on social media
assuming the high ground
without realizing
I was doing so
(no wonder they troll
me senseless
screaming “idiot”)
at least there’s breakfast to consider
(belly winning that debate with brain hands down)
but right in the middle of
my first eggy mouthful
that window in my head
opened inconveniently
sending a poem through
or a killer line at least
that one folds and shapes
going linear, non-linear and
decidedly centripetal
more than my life’s worth
to let that little bastard escape
my clutches: my raw, scarred
hirsute fingers
in gloves of
rare, studied velvet elegantly concealed
grabbing, holding down
clipping its wings
to add
wings far greater
you are probably
(metaphor as
resonance)
thinking at this point:
Oh I think he’s going
Japanese on this one
(full Oda Nobunaga dancing
with katana to
score by Ryuichi Sakamoto)
talking about
infinite patience
age-old ingenuity
the delicacy
of paper folded into life
tree
clipped aesthetically
brutal beauty of
all four elements
folded and hammered
into perfect balance
of samurai steel
curve on that blade
the exquisite equal to
(that of) the shapeliest of lovers
but here I go
off on wordy tangent
when my breakfast is
getting cold
so I turn hard left into
a Cubist perspective
think of Picasso
all obtuse visual brilliance at
pretty much right-angle
layered as before
but
painted with passion
insisting on
the supremacy of the artist
with the right
to rearrange
to challenge tired outworn seeing
great to leave you
ruminating on this in
a simple haiku
a poem was lost
then came thought of Picasso
see where we now are
