“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Marsupial Mavens
Ninety percent of All humanity
live North of the equator
I sit in California in the sun
at thirty-three degrees or so
it is sixty-six and blustery-
(May gray has not arrived)
I read the latest Poetry issue,
origami ideas sent on paper planes
just out from Australia-al-
though printed in Chicago-
we pro-prose a die-a-log
through belles lettres.
After reading up on down under
I wondered-This Issue-
why more pictures than poetry-
Not really-but all I see, in imagery are
Faces
posing for poetry
Is it the mirror effect; akin to the water,
that made the artists smiles up-side-down-
And those scowls, sneers, poor-trait(s),
of some smirks where the mysterious
pretends to con-de-ceive perceptions
about Aussie affability.
Mutually masterful,
silence at the end, asks
for reciprocation, promotion,
looking for-word-one way to say
likeness, not-like-us, writer-ly
soft and polished up, be-spectacled
and dis-taught by degrees-
A-B-original-not left out back
in voluminous r-evolution.
Feature image art by Peter Purves Smith, Kangaroo hunt c. 1938 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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