_Brea king Meta phors_
I know I am mixing metaphors here.
Maybe I’m even breaking metaphors.
It is like Eisenstein’s dialectic:
I smash them against each other
to make power and energy ,
Enough to heal the brokenhearted.
I put Round pegs into square holes
And they fit
which is a miracle unto itself
Because I didn’t make it happen.
I was just listening and transcribing while somebody Else dictates
I rush across fields to hunt.
Chase and capture the images,
The Icons and the neglected myths,
Whose blades are dull from dis-use.
Like Pokémon I gotta catch ‘em all.
Like fat flounder
They overflow my net
on the other side of the boat.
Like a hawk I watch,
I hope, I work,
I cover my territory at a low hover.
I have mouths to feed.
I cannot let
these images and metaphors escape
Out into the black hole,
Only to become Essential Exclamations
never to be heard.
Sometimes like an owl–
a great horny owl or a wolf that howls,
I hunt Night Itself.
I shoot it through with Light
from my one-of-a-kind shotgun .
Or I scavenge
Like that masked bandit the raccoon,
The only thief we don’t seem to mind.
Like the hunger artist
I use the technology at hand,
Algorithms whose stupidity
and bad auto-correct suggestions miraculously offer me new ideas,
even a new kind of grammar.
Our stories don’t end.
We just keep on improvising comedy and tragedy,
melancholy, wondrous reality,
and holy madness
until the curtain comes down
But all these acronyms and this (ugh)
are going to kill me yet.
You say G.I. to a doctor and they think you mean gastrointestinal
You say it to a soldier and they think you mean general infantry.
What if sometimes you mean both, or neither?
What if I mean Green Intensity?
The great beyond backtalks me in code
but I cannot understand.
It speaks to me in tongues
but I cannot interpret.
Maybe the point is only that it keeps on speaking
And that I keep on listening,
keep on walking.
SIRI, are you there Siri?
“Not tonight I have a headache