Sunday, December 16, 2012

The Usual Suspect


That’s him there—waxing poetic at the end 
Of another butchered line, that 

Moon-faced assassin feigning 
Innocence time after time. 




Thursday, December 13, 2012

In Flanders Field Redux


Lord, whosoever said something like 
Ours is not to reason why 
Or other like inflated poppycock, 
Let him put his muzzle 
Where his blooming mouth is 
And shut the fuck up. 





Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Sacrificial Rites of Passage


Our legacy—where we always begin 
The quest to give up all that 

We find at the end. 

Monday, December 10, 2012

Any Port in a Storm


In a long sunlit lull, surfacing out of the gutter’s grating, 
Dazed drenched survivor shaking dry all six legs 

On stretch of steaming black sea of asphalt. 




Friday, December 7, 2012

Always Room at the Heartbreak Hotel


Your word would be all 
You say it is and then some 
If you gave me all the room in the world

And then some. 




Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Lost and Found: Dated Poetic Relic


Lo and Behold! 

I found what they were looking for 
When it became the death of me, 
Then put it back for them to find 
Before they knew the difference. 


Monday, December 3, 2012

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.
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