Cogito ergo sum
(1812 & 1942-43 & 2019)
I think therefore I am
what I am but what am I
a man who borrows and buys
who runs up false credit
sneaks away from unpaid bills
and reads fake falsifications
or listens to such things on tv
talk shows where noddies nod
finger-talk shaking their heads
and grinning so much people can
even see them smile while chatting
with them on land-line phones
I am at the center of my universe
egocentric terracentric heliocentric
a boiled egg this world a cracked
shell this starry firmament
and me with my silver spoon
poised to dig into worldly riches
stuffing them into my mouth
as I lie in the ripped steaming
horse’s belly behind me dead cities
the whole world flaring into flame
ahead of me this winter snow my fate
an albatross noosed around my neck
Comment:
Poetry is made up of little touches, a metaphor here, a line change there, a word less, an idea more. As a result, poets dabble with their verses, shifting them around, sliding them about. I call it “shuffle and cut”. Some arrangements are more effective than others; the big question: which is which? Every word-change alters tone, emphasis, meaning, exposition. What, for example, is the correct place for “the center of my universe”? Should it start the poem? Should it appear in the middle? Which is more effective? While one answer may please one person, that same answer may displease somebody else. As poets, we must make choices, we cannot always “have patience and shuffle the cards”. Somewhere, the cards, like the male deer who visit my garden, must stop. But where do they stop? Where do the words make their final stand?
Cogito ergo sum
(1812 & 1942-43 & 2019)
centered on my universe
terra- helio- ego
I think therefore I am
what I am but what am I
a man who borrows and buys
who sets up false credit
runs away from unpaid bills
reads fake falsifications
listens to talk shows on CBC
tv shows where noddies nod
shake their heads or smirk
grin so much people can
even see them smile while
talking to them on the phone
a boiled egg this world cracked
shell this starry firmament
me with my silver spoon
poised to dig into worldly
riches stuffing them into my mouth
I lie in the warm steaming belly
dead this horse behind me cities
whole worlds flaring into flame
ahead of me this winter snow my fate
an albatross noosed around my neck
rogermoorepoet 