The Inspiration
“On the poetic, noetic, prosaic, and nosetic aesthetic”
On Thursday I’m poetic
So emotionally pathetic
My cravat is limp, my collar open wide.
Come Sunday I’m noetic
Contemplating the hermetic
In the jungles of my small leguminous mind.
Prosaic comes on Tuesday
Tesseraically disused day
When my brain’s mosaic tends to underwind.
Ah, but mostly I’m nosetic –
A state olfactoretic
In the nasal complications of my rhyme.
1998 – Michael Dacó
The Inspired
“On changing everyday”
Everyday I change thoroughly
The aesthetics of my conception
Drinking wine in the candlelight.
I retrograde carefully
All the nuances of my perception
And cut the wings of my brain to not let it fly
And I conceive incandescently
As I abrouse through the Zion
Of the grammar in sight.
So if I never stop playing
With all the words I am saying
One day I will suddenly realize: nothing.
“On poetry”
I twist my tongue
With all these randomized poetry
I read on mags.
I swirl my bong
With splendorized nonsense
I read on rags.
I twerp mon monde
Avec stylized syntaxes
I know are tags.
And I long my wounds
Because my hand arises
To rend on airfulness.
(A. Cortada)
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