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Cornfedtrouble: August 2007


Check here for the latest on the road adventures of the Caribou Projects Discovery Team.

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Location: Volga, SD, United States

Friday, August 31, 2007

Cheese County Almanac

...with all due respect to Aldo Leopold

Tillamook Culture
A weblog poet and a milk cow had a romance
their mooning meta4 eyes were compatible

Together they avoided all paths with stones,
took liberties with their mooing and ahhing.

The poet found sniffing methane intoxicating,
it was, quite unpredictably, a perfect scheme!

They chewed the cud and passed the days
never once suspecting the calamity awaiting—

once the cow confuted animal husbandry
the blogpo sold his semen lyrics for a song.


This piece, prepared for the last of the " ‘Poetry Thursday’" posting, displays a number of things I like to accomplish in a poem. Thus a bit reflective of what I have done in other works I have presented since running across this set of Abelians. Like Jack London said, “You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.”

I don't know how many of you remember Little Rascals, but it was popular on tv back in the days of the Mouseketeers (who i thought stupid). On the other hand one of Our Gang, Alfalfa, had a cowlick and the show was known for it misdirection, puns and clever wordplay. Cowlick: I love this quote from Wikipedia, “Many people find Cowlicks to be extremely irritating, as they often conflict with the desired hairstyle.” It is an appropriate metaphor for my poetic intentions, i.e.
A cowlick is like a hair spiral which can probably be characterized with the Fibonacci Series although I might have to be the first to try it. Predictable maybe, although maddening at first encounter, it still makes sense in unexpected ways.
I look upon the cowlick as symbolic of the figurative language devices I like to employ in my work. I have great respect for the Nebraska State Poet, Wm, Kloefkorn’s style and wit, and his ability to use country vernacular to poke fun at those who-know-better. I find myself lapsing into this kind of word play just to imagine puzzled looks on reader’s faces whose eyes glaze over because the imagery didn’t come with a caption or familiar reference. I might not always use yokel chatter, more likely science, homonym or homograph that plays with sound and meaning, perhaps a portmanteau word, neologism or some double entendre that real poets never, ever use. ;-)

Say la vie

P.S. If you look for a "poetry_thur" tag on del.icio.us we may meet again.
or myspace?

c'est parfait!

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Friday, August 24, 2007

A game is a game is ...

Field Goals

There he sat,
a contented bench warmer
who never had to meet the test,
bear the shame of loss,

the weighty hometown fame
were for some other
well scrubbed fellow,
whose insouciance
becharmed cheerleaders.

The budding sports writer
polished his wits,
repeated wry comments.
Under his breath

word plays.
While others sweated,
he mastered


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Thursday, August 16, 2007

Work in Progress


Whatever you've come here to get

Try to forget it
It is so inhumane, replaceable,
Maybe you were looking for love
or food, some temporary satiation
I ask you
How do you greet a git?
Tell him G’day
The way we say
Not okay

Is it with a cut
a gesture, or
wave goodbye?

No matter.
I can not help
I am unknown among the living.

(The lines linked are part of the poem.)

The poem I wrote this week took me on an adventure. It began when on some lark, I clicked on a bookmark that I had saved who knows when, I am guessing Nov06 or before,
Guardian's Poetry Workshop

Wow, I had seen this in a Poetry Thursday comment last week (I had ignored it at the time). So i grabbed a "W S Graham first line" and well...the next thing i knew I was on Wordie.
looking for alternate definitions of my title, I have ideas about it bastardization, and ended up discovering Bonnie Jones.

I invite you to share the adventure, no directions provided as that is part of it all!

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Thursday, August 09, 2007

One of mine on New Verse News.com

Safe by Minnesota

In these times I am a "country Menckenesqe" sort.

A keeper from Sunday, August 12, that echoes the my sentiments

"True originality consists not in a new manner but in a new vision."
Edith Wharton

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Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Poetry Thursday _ August 9

Repeating the Sense of Anonymity

Carousing poetics trap a word drunk surfing bum
With muddled message similes in the margins
Leaving cone vision minds peripherally dumb
Not being there online becomes the place to be

There are those who cannot go where they say
Fellow homonym-niacs may reveal their privates
Make Thursday an unresponsive tomorrow today
Exposed like language unheard by the left brain

Mired in wiki trivia, a most unknown obscurant
Belies common knowledge with jaja entrails
Temptation lurks between the words eye can’t
See what I won’t be in its hidden cognate forms

At first I didn't know what this poem looked like but then it came to me:

I call it blossoming when the poem informs you, its sensory apparatus, of how it wants to be when it comes out.

Return to Poetry Thursday

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