Huuklyeand Cinquor on Drooling over the Prospects

You who wish your every word

To be on everybody’s lips,

The next time you feel

Your creative juices over

Flowing, use a spittoon.

Moderator’s comments: I see what Cinquor’s aiming at, but when was the last time anybody saw—or more to the point—used a cuspidor?

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Poetic Ambivalence

Poetry had a soft spot in my heart hard 
To explain once I let it enter my brain. 


Moderator’s comments: Judging from his extended absence from this humble podium, Cinquor seems to have followed the advice put forward in another one of his memorable two-liners from the past, to wit:

Conceptual Prestidigitation

You look to have that precious gift of sleight; a present 
Better prized and appreciated when kept out of sight. 


We shall see.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Bernstein’s Artifice of Absorption

So powerful was his gift

Of garb, you had to

Hang on to your shocks.



Moderator’s comments: Now we know where Cinquor has been hiding out these past two months: Checking out the new world naked emperor’s new clothes!

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Writer's Block

Though you think

It makes no difference

When not writing, do not

I repeat do not

Take no for an answer.

Moderator’s comments: One more illustrative affirmation of Cinquor’s masterly command of Negative Capability or just another example of a jejune tendency to overstate the obvious?

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Where Ian Fleming Got the Name “Pussy Galore”

After reading  Mr. Zambaras’ latest Weekly Hubris column, I did some more investigation on the small, west coast town of Raymond, Washington, where Mr. Zambaras says he spent his formative years. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that even Ian Fleming was cognizant of the town’s raucous, raunchy, sinful past, primarily because (as knowledgeable sources are quick to point out), he was a great fan of Stuart Holbrook, and as such, is reputed to have read Holbrook’s classic, The Far Corner: A Personal View of the Pacific Northwest, New York: The Macmillan Company, 1952. Of course Fleming’s knowledge of the existence of that house of ill-repute par excellence in Raymond called “Whores Galore” explains where he got the inspiration to name his villainess and is a strong counter-argument against the one put forward by Wikipedia.

Moderator's comments: Jesus, the next thing Cinquor will try to prove is that Eric Burdon spent the night in "Whores Galore" waiting for the sun to rise! Mercy!

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Devious Marketing of GM Foods

You perverted Monsanto

Sodbusters just keep on

Swallowing this bull

Shit and ya’ll be corn

Holed

By the Grim Reaper.

Moderator’s comments: Well, now we know where Cinquor stands re GM foods; still

The question is: how does one hold an apple

Who likes apples

And how does one handle

Filth? The question is

How does one hold something

In the mind which he intends

To grasp and how does the salesman

Hold a bauble he intends

To sell? The question is

When will there not be a hundred

Poets who mistake that gesture

For a style.

—George Oppen, “The Gesture”

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Why Hubris Is Blasphemous

Hell, every time I swear

I’m one step nearer to God,

Some cloven-hoofed preacher

Puts his foot in my mouth.

Moderator’s comments: What the devil, Cinquor, watch your step and cheer up; Christmas is just around the corner!

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Dead Ends

The last thing I want you to tell me

Is how I got here in the first place.

Moderator’s comments: At last, something that leaves no loose ends as to where Cinquor’s thought wants to take us.

Huuklyeand Cinquor On The Difficulty Inherent In Finding Your True North

Like a compass gone 
Haywire, the why 
Of where you may be 
At any given point 
Has nothing to do 
With where you think 
You are going. 


Moderator’s comments: OK, Cinquor—you just keep throwing your soul-searching lines out—sooner or later, some lost soul will take the bait and follow you straight to wherever it is you think you’re going.

Now That You Ask Me: Huuklyeand Cinquor On The Writing Of Difficult Poetry

I must say 

I think 

 

Your poems are splendid; 

They would be even better 

 

If we understood them. 

 

 

MODERATOR’S COMMENT: I also must say in turn that our boy Huuk has made a resounding comeback appearance after spending months on the sidelines of the enormously fecund contemporary poetry scene, and I for one am mightily impressed by this, his latest (tongue in cheek?) offering, wherein we see him grappling to come to terms with that age-old bugaboo monster still tormenting many of today’s poets: How crucial it is to write beautiful, accessible poetry without being sent by elderly po-biz savants to the nearest establishment inner sanctum cell padded with nothing but tome after tome of only their excruciatingly maddening poetic criticism—that and nothing more, nothinglikeness period. (At least for the time being, however long that may be.)

 

 

 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Gnomic Verse

Savants who should know better 
Keep telling me it’s best 
To let things go; the next thing 
You know they’ll be underground 
Just like me, wishing they’d held on 
To whatever they cherished 
A wee bit more. 


Moderator’s comments: 
 “Less is more”— Ludwig Mies van der Rohe

Huuklyeand Cinquor's Take on Revisionist Poetics

All you visionaries hell-bent on taking 
Off after a vision, take this— 

A poem can take you anywhere 
You want but it won’t take you there 

If you put it down right from the start. 



Moderator’s comments: After some seven or eight months of silence on his part, I was beginning to think that Huuk was revising the soundness of his decision to send me his “poetry” at intermittent intervals, but it looks like I was a bit hasty with my assumption. So, after a long wait, let us revel once more in observing him at his short, didactic best (or worse, depending on how bad your myopia is) by focusing in on the poem’s intention to wit, what exactly is he trying to teach us here? That a poem cannot be “visionary” if it is written straightaway the first time without any revision whatsoever? Or is he assuming the role of the reader and admonishing us to give the poem the benefit of the doubt and not to dis it from the start? Maybe he’s trying to hook both poet and reader with his version of how to cast off all poetic illusions. Whatever the case, I certainly don’t want to prejudice any poets and/or readers out there by being picayune about his “effort” but I have to admit I’m having trouble following where he’s going with this, but then again, I’m not called “The Squint-eyed Kid” for nothing.

Oracular

—for Huuklyeand Cinquor 
  il miglior fabbro. 


Convoluted his verse and so 
Vatic the meaning mind

 
You have to divine 
Which way it’s going by

 
The manner in which 
His feet and mouth perhaps

 
Even his entrails are twisted so

Haplessly entwined. 

 

 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Biting the Bullet

Punk firebrand intellect with prophetic 

Corpus pregnant with bravado before firing 

Your virgin salvo into that illustrious 

But now defenseless body 

Of ancestors think twice 

And never after 

Drawing a blank. 

Moderator’s comments: Not having heard from Huuk for ages (so to speak), I thought he’d finally shot his wad. Just goes to show you shouldn’t count geezers out—not even after you think they’ve wheezed their pathetic last. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor Critiques Gone4Ever© Miracle Painkiller For Poets

 

Patience,
It’ll be over
In a jiffy—

It only
Hurts so
Long as you 

Hold it in. 

 

 

Fatal Attraction

When one goes where one has to,
What’s the use of asking why? 
---Huuklyeand Cinquor 

Like it or not, let the poem 
Walk away scot free 

And it will take you with it 
With no second thought. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Abandoning One's Craft in the Middle of the Sea of Doldrums

When that wan

But overblown lubberly poet told me

He was ready to set forth boldly

Out of the calms of obscurity

And take the world by storm,

I told him to batten the hatches,

Remain at his station and please

Wait for the lull to blow over.

Moderator’s comments: Aye-aye, O Captain! My Captain!

Huuklyeand Cinquor On Artful Poetic Hubris

Striving to best 

What you already think
You do better than others,
You keep writing, trying 

For that elusive special something
Precious to say, never
Once thinking you should have 

Packed it in yesterday.

 

 

 

Huuklyeand Cinquor On How To Commit Poetic Suicide And Live To Tell About It

The next time you sit down to write 
Something mind-blowing right 

Off the top of your head, 
Take what’s left 

Of your brains with you. 



Moderator’s comments: What a relief! Our resident gadfly had been out of sight and out of mind so long that I was ready to abandon all hope of ever hearing from him again, so you can understand how elated I was when I received another one of his delicious little gems. With this one in particular, without his resorting to overblown poetic hyperbole, we can see how Huuk has hit the proverbial nail on the head once more and demonstrated how futile it is to have your artistic cake and eat it too—unless the poet in question has enough smarts left over to return to his senses before he suffers irreversible damage to his powerful albeit very misguided “inspirational” ego by overshooting it.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Why There Are So Many Bad Poems Out There

Too few poets know when

They’ve started one—

Still fewer know when

They should’ve stopped.

Moderator’s comments: Many poets might find themselves saying many things about this one but I for one am going to stop before I get carried away.