a delicious word salad

Can I can expound, like an oracle, both embodied and metaphorical,
holding collapse and pattern together at once—in a one-two punch?

Poetry has an awkwardness that makes grammar feel hazardous,
there’s a tired slipperiness to poetic form that’s seldom rapturous.

I stumble blind along a boulevard of uneven sentences, 
tripping on rhyming rubble, dodging puddles of punctuation,
parked beat patterns, broken themes and literary pretenses.

I drift half-awake down corridors of clause and clutter, 
sidestepping commas, cracked cadences, the debris of technique
and the stalled traffic of half-finished thoughts best not uttered.

Poems are concerned with stanzas, form, pace and sound,
that flow rather awkwardly, when the rhyme is unsound.

No GPS can map grammatical faults, predict didactic turns 
or diagnose a disordered phrasing, as if physical curves - 
thus avoiding the flaws of internal rhythm and rhyme in my words.

I use vignette as my prescriptive technique, trying to build clearer 
thoughts, through the architecture of sentence - offering rhetorical mirrors 
that smooth over fractures - generously layering narrative with example, 
evidence, and explanation - with controlling literary tricks, like preamble.

Which should win—which is better—the poem or the vignette? 
Step right up—readers—place your bets.
.
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A song for this:
Go Left by Radiant Children
.
youtu.be/nY60hmGcSYk?is=pox6fHBACQ_bsP3j

abuseallegoryallusionanalogyantirhyme

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