Resigning One's Self to the Inevitable

The restless wind never waits

For us to catch our breath,

We have to run

Just like it.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Poetic Dysfunction

As in penis, stud—

When you think you’re in

Doubt of the outcome.

Moderator’s comments: Even though one senses a self-indulgent literary poseur at work here—one who revels in letting himself drift headlong towards the literal pornographic as opposed to the artistic—one can still envy Cinquor’s masterly albeit quirky handing of an overworked but still controversial phenomenon whose occurrence continues to be on the rise, judging from the increased exposure it’s been getting lately. 

What's in a Name?

Well, if it’s Huuklyeand Cinquor’s, just the sight of it should be enough to send most readers into convulsions; those who get over the initial shock of seeing such an odd name are still faced with the daunting task of pronouncing it, not to mention examining its etymological roots. As a matter of fact, ever since Cinquor selected me as a conduit for his apophthegmata, my incoming email box has been inundated by a steady stream of inquiries about his unconventional moniker, so I think it’s high time I did some serious speculating about it.

So where is one to start? For a start, let’s examine the spelling and separate the words into their five respective syllables: Huuk-lye-and Cin-quor. Stress? ( ’- -’- ) To my romantic ear, this meter sounds suspiciously like Byron’s romping anapestics in his poem "The Destruction of Sennacherib" i.e., “The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, and his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold”, but I could be mistaken. However, if it is anapestic, we must examine the possibility of Huuklyeand being an Assyrian name and Cinquor a Hebrew one, basing our interpretation as such on Byron’s poem, which is a rendering of the famous battle for sovereignty over Jerusalem written from the Hebrew point of view, viz. Huuklyeand (Assyrian) and Cinquor (Hebrew)—an amalgamation symbolizing the assimilative bi-polar properties of the imagination whenever it’s faced with a situation requiring the deployment of imaginal space as defined so eloquently by Joe Hutchison in one of his recent, illuminating posts.

So far so good, but we have to be a bit more cautious when approaching the thorny subject of pronunciation, so let me take a stab. The first syllable is most certainly pronounced as the double “o” in “look” rather than “Huck” as in “Finn” or “Hulk” as in The Green Giant, a claim based on the fact that there was no Huck Finn, Hulk or Green Giant when Byron composed his poem; the second syllable looks like “lye” but on closer investigation, there could be a diphthong lurking in there, making the syllable sound like “lie-in”, “line” or “lined”—your guess is as good as mine (not as in “mien”). “Cinquor” poses no problem and should be pronounced as “sinker” and certainly not “sank-her”, or worse yet, “canker”.

Of course, this blog is always open to other speculations regarding Huuklyeand’s name, as long as they have that inimitable air of gritty conviction we have all come to expect from his apophthegmata.

It Happens Every Time, Mr. Frost

Asleep, I need to keep awake

Poems that plow deep furrows,

Nurturing seeds of promise

I must find time to reap;

When I wake, I find reams,

Reams of shallow promises

Still keeping me asleep.

Coming upon a Dead Toad, I Remember an Old Friend from the Vietnam Era

When I saw what had happened

To the toad that only yesterday

Had been reconnoitering my garden,

The first thing that shot through

My mind was my buddy’s strange

But now too, too familiar

Nickname splayed out

Cross the road there.

If Pegasus Could Talk: The Last Word in Poetry!

Okay, jocks, have it your way—

Whinny nicker whicker neigh,

No words and all play.

Invasion of the Snail People et al.

Believe it or not , before these people 'et  all of us on this here saucer, they also devoured two pans full of our kinfolk!

Your Friendly, Inviting Bird Feeder

Chirping in a whirring

Circle in the branches

Above the table where

I sit and watch, it looks like

My friends are thinking

Twice about attacking

The crumbs

I’ve most kindly left

On the slab of wood hanging

Like a swing from the leafless

Judas tree.

.

As long as I’m here, I know

They’ll keep their distance,

Springing on my offering only

After I leave them alone.

Such ungrateful wretches.

Don’t these birds understand?

They should be eating out of my hand.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Means and Ends

Dying to pen

Eternal verse?

Just pretend

Each word’s a step

Towards that end.

Moderator’s comments: Huuk’s got me where he wants me—I need to brush up on my dialectic!

Maybe Tomorrow

—after Cavafy

Please

Old man, do not entreat me

To change my ways—

One of these days, perhaps

Today even, I shall

Make sense of what

I learned from yesterday;

Until that day, let me bask

In that full-bodied, sensuous

Knowledge of my ignorance.

Soap as Poetic Metaphor

be

cause

it

is

an

agent

so

cleansing, even

more so when not

bubbling over,

swallowing

so much sop. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on the Real Meaning of Realpolitik

You clogged up assholes—

You sit here saying how shitty everything is

When the real shit has yet to hit the fan.

Moderator’s comments: Merde alors!

Commemorative

Racked by pain, still

The innocent wheel-

Chairs swear on

A campaign

Against a mounting

Stack of dog-eared bibles,

Everyone gets the picture—

Nothing's framed.

NB: Lest we forget, today marks the 37th anniversary of the beginning of the fall of the infamous junta that ruled Greece from 1967 to 1974. 

Before the Ruby-throated Hummingbird Stood Still

When not composing on the computer (and before that on a Remington Quiet- Riter exactly like this
one which my parents bought me as a junior high graduation gift), I jot down bits and pieces of rantings and ravings on a 7 1/8 x 5 1/4 inch account book--the perfect size for my miniscule scribblings. 

Number one starts on January 11, 1975 in Seattle and finishes (with stopovers in London and Paris) in Greece in July 1976; the one I'm currently scribbling in is number twelve. That's not much of an output but what can you expect from a humming bird.

 

Full Circle

Fall’s half-moon

Waxing through

Judas tree leaves,

Jasmine flowers all

Ready on ground.