Tuesday, November 1, 2016

In Answer To His Question

“Voluminously uniformly multi-form
and patently ambivalent with its drear
unavailing valence of impaled received

opinion and the bloody knife-edge
of contrarian dominion in which all
was hampered, dampened and beset

by this regret: that nuance had to be
abandoned to mere chance – instead
(when possible, as possible it always was!)

of cosseted by the adroit sesquipedalian
romance of a syllabic dance to which
the flailing fleeing spirit of this arms-akimbo

alien was ill-equipped to counteract much
less address each freeing last effect of every
joint and limb of meaning finding finally

it was agreeing with the rest of what
the answer should have been and would
have been had we been able far less dully

to perceive that what is always just beneath
the sleeve of consciousness is a tattoo:
stigmata wooed into an imprimatur: sign

that there exists some power to relieve
the anguish and to realign it, and anoint it,
with the vibrant sight and flight of what might

be described as sacramental skiing,”
so the naked lady said in answer to his
question, “Hmm, and your point being?”


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