Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Emancipation (poem)


I. Abstract

you are going to leave.

I can feel it.

there is not a man left for me.

you have come this far: to your loss.

to your grief.

you, relentless fool.

II. Essay on a fool

always the fool hopes. always the fool hurts. (to verify the authenticity of the fool: inquire as to whether she hurts. the fool never knows she hurts--she smiles. she proceeds: oblivious. ignorant. burned: idiotic. moron-- apple-mouthed Wilburess flipping on the skewer)

I say-- that I will be no fool. and I believe it. and if I die an old lonely lady: with not a soul at my
will be by my own doing. no world to blame. perhaps,

I'd be better off in some fool's socks.

a fool at least knows love.
a fool knows love.
a fools knows

what is love. and what is love? it: is not. as
as the rhetoric
babbles on (they're playing tricks). except,

that I've got my

nose stuck. to the crease of this corner. my back to the world.

to join the ranks of the desperate. the starved. is this what you want?

give me a minute.

it may be too late. love may be keeling
over. now. this very moment-- as we speak.

III. Rebuttal

the fool knows hurt. this particular kind of. this peculiar type of. fool.
runs straight. into. the hurt. I think it is innate. instinct. this sub-species not possessing the pathways for callousness and the "never-will-I-hurt-again" switch. just like some form of ancient savagery. scoff: no modern etiquette.

I crawl into a closet examine the darkness and whisper: "I almost find it romantic." (tell no one: of what. you may. just have: heard--)

(of what: you are. about. to hear:)

I almost wish: I could hurtle myself-- from this closet

my feet dressed and jumping

in these socks:

that I have never. before. dared


* * *


(Give me all the candles and pennies that I can hold:
I have breath enough
and strong arms and hands

with which to throw--

we will see smoke rising

and the well


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