Zumwalt Poems Online

Archive for July, 2011

Trilogy of the Oblique Carbide

Trilogy of the Oblique Carbide

 
I. Judge Crater Is No More 

Help!
There is a fandango up my nose;
   This is justice?
O ironic gods -- can they
Really repossess my pancreas?
And Black and Decker tread on the cosmic puddles
         URRRP!
 
II. Moira 

      My ravioli molded to day...
   The wispy green fuzz eating
Away the corrupted entrails of Alpha Beta 
         Ground sirloin.
Pathos.  Tragedy.  Trichinosis.
         Such is fate.
 
III.  Cry the beloved wingnut 

         Bladderwort lied.
Bigot!  And the hungry children cry 
   In their farina.  Would Rothschild give
Them Twinkies?  Ha!  Let them eat Spackling paste.
   Spush!  Time, the rain-bird, spews
Its indifference towards the continuum of OHM.

— Zumwalt (1973)

Category:

1970s, T, Zumwalt

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Imperfect information

Imperfect information

You and I face off
with battleships on secret squares
sequentially taking pot shots wherever we choose.

A thin board separates our lines of sight
A thick carpet, underneath.

This is a sequential game
even when I attack out of turn
each and every move
is built on the one before.

Round after round
we proudly announce
a target square.

Sometimes we hit
Sometimes we miss
But never fail to attack.

Salvo, my friend
When you are most relaxed
and think all is calm waters.

As long as there are ships afloat
There will be missiles launched
across these now choppy seas.

Salvo, my friend
All shots at once
against our better judgment.

As long as there are missiles to launch
There will be ships targeted
aggravating these now choppy seas.

But once it is clear
there is some chance at sinking even one ship
We pull back,
bend the rules,
re-arrange our positions,
midway,
put some ships
in reserve,
deny any cease fire
and secretly fill out our battle reports.

-zumwalt (2011)

Category:

2011, I, Zumwalt

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deconbunktionalism

deconbunktionalism

I tear at it apart
abrasively
picking at the pieces like an overfed child
making up messages from the steam of alphabet soup cooking in the other
room

my intentions were theirs
every one
separated

my reactions were initial cause
differences exploded
similarities scattered

in dispersement is the focal point
the key to understanding
this author was a bum
that culture was irrelevant

in imposed confusion is serenity
to get at the gestalt you must first exhaustively examine each particle
even
as you fling it further away.

I am not sure why this writer hated sonic booms so in the 19th century
and why he was disgruntled about gas mileage and the FBI
it seems silly that he was constantly wondering about mercury fillings
and that soap operas influenced his characterizations.

I chop it so finely it is dust
and blow it at a hand held mirror
I take the mirror and smash it on the table
and notice how my reflection has been expanded —
absent mindedly
picking at the pieces
unaware that I am making up for meaning that I didn’t have
the common sense to read.

-zumwalt (1988)

Category:

1988, D, Zumwalt

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idioverse

idioverse

jack be nimble
jack be quick
but man, the fates cry like babies in soiled diapers, don’t try to be
jack —
it might stick.

-zumwalt (1990)

Category:

1990, I, short poems, Zumwalt

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anchor’s away!

I want her to throw away the anchor.
She wants me to go overboard with it.

-zumwalt (1991)

Category:

1991, A, short poems, Zumwalt

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the analysis of falling

the analysis of falling

when going down it pays to plan ahead
and calculate the moment of impact if there is going to be one at all.

It is not so good to remember how it started
or to speculate on how to stop.

the best thing to do is enjoy it.
and if you can’t enjoy it, make notes.

-zumwalt (1991)

Category:

1991, A, short poems, Zumwalt

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note

i look at a note I jotted down
a thought
a revelation
an expression of truth

I trace my fingers over the loops and bends
I cannot remember what I wrote
and I cannot read my writing

-zumwwalt (1991)

Category:

1991, N, short poems, Zumwalt

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plenty of structure

plenty of structure

repeat every action
            deftly
            neatly
            perfectly
until its actuality sinks --
deeply embedded into experience
making the way safe
for any other action

she felt so very much alone growing up
that she is uncertain she ever made it
she understood so little then
that she easily accepts false knowledge now
holding onto it more firmly than she has ever been held

the past
stumbles around
a
run-
down
down-
town                 disoriented
sometimes getting on a bus
only to be chased back into the street

not feeling safe and not far away
the present stays locked in an air conditioned hotel
facing the window
trying to recognize the homeless vagabond below

she thinks thinking will solve her problems
but doesn't want to think about it
she looks for a solution
where she can see it all
without ever having to look

backing away from the window
 driven by the unclear image that remains
   checking the doorknob as well as the latch
     present makes a promise
       that
         it's going to be the last time

-zumwalt (1991)

Category:

1990s, 1991, P, Zumwalt

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recollection

recollection

the roof is leaking

-zumwalt (1991)

Category:

1991, R, short poems, Zumwalt

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She serves yogurt

She serves yogurt

Stupidly, like a dying man stumbling into a life insurance office,
I asked her out.
“What night did you have in mind?”
“Thursday would be best.”
“Sir, I don’t know how old you think I am but I am sixteen.”
Stunned, I made no reply and she took it for composure
and said yes,
warning me that her mother would have a fit.

-zumwalt (1991)

Category:

1991, S, Zumwalt

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