Why this?

The occasional poem of my own and a generous helping of work by others that I find inspiring. Site is named for a beloved book by one of my favorite writers, Italo Calvino, whose fanciful work lights--and delights--my soul.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Getting Words In

In a circle of several, with vocals,
it can be hard to know when to go.

One pipes up, stops abrupt—
then begins again as though
there was no pause to speak of.
(Where’s the entry point there?)
From here on, I grant a wide berth
to a guy who seems to ask it.
But wouldn’t you know, there are
other arrangements, unforeseen.
Take this woman, essence of ease:
she’s just completed our guy’s
sentence. And this other one,
a kind of verbal cake decorator,
capping crumb, icing untidy edges
(false starts, awkward interruptions)
with effortless pastel grace.
He just knows his place.

And then there’s me,
waving around a big knife,
shearing sharings—lopping off
syllables, even whole words,
at first indication of trailing.
That, or just not saying.

This doesn’t even bring us
to the hazards of explaining.

--me

2 comments:

  1. The "and then there's me" stanza...well, it made me laugh. It's just so far from my experience of you! I think of you more like a kung-fu papercutting type. Lopping off syllables...lol.

    I totally relate.

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  2. Ha! Nutty how our true/internal experiences can be so... private. Oftentimes this is desirable, I think, but it's still sorta... dizzying, the potential disparity.

    Also, what I outline above is thankfully not an all-the-time thing for me; just among certain people-types. You know. :)

    Kung-fu papercutting type! Best.

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