No self respecting poem wants to hang with me. As I’m apt to slap that poesy into the ether too early, still gasping, and all agog at anxious afterthought alterations. A bespoke joke birthing an interior punch-line rhyme, way before delivery time. Because juncture is the jive. That toot sweet hive be honey. Muse money. Currency.
And now for something past.
As the Minister of Misinformation
I will crown a “Miss Misinformation”
after I lay and lie with most of
the contestants under-
consideration to be considered
and select a new
daily if I come to
I have been previously
Recently I read Ben Lerner’s, The Hatred Of Poetry. I enjoyed it. He suggested that many find poetry more to their liking when formatted horizontally and with slashes. (I sure there is a technical name for this technique, but I can’t recall it.)
Anyway, I agreed with his observation but admit it’s a tricky proposition.
As the Minister of Misinformation/ I will crown a “Miss Misinformation”/ after I lay and lie/ with most of the contestants under-consideration/ to be considered “Miss Misinformation”/and select a new “Miss Misinformation” daily/ if I come to understand/ that I have been previously/ so misinformed.
And by the by, I’m re-reading Lewis’s The Big Short, after re-watching Margot Robbie in the movie adaptation, bubble bathing an explanation concerning the in’s and out’s of Credit Default Swaps, or was it CDO’s, I was a bit distracted.
But that’s not the point of this post either.
The point is a paraphrase of a quote on a black blank screen that starts the film. It was overheard in a bar in Washington D.C.
“Truth is like poetry and the American people hate f*cking poetry.”