Take the Poem By the Tail

Take the poem by the tail Dash not the Word on the rocks sans sense Avalanches bury the meaning in the rubble O’Malley came alive to prove this sound truth Not words alone can make up the poem: You can take the poem by the tail And make it rightly wail Words can’t be killed not in their intent Unless you kill sense in the making first And destroy the minds of everybody else On every planet made from darkest dirt: You can take the poem by the tail And whip it to make it wail Then start all over again Burn every creature rode on wings Wore claws or suction pumps Or sheathed in slithering muscles Till the poem is turned on tail And made to squeal and rail Who spoke to the plants that lay in wait High holy stench oozing in their udders To watch the frail humming suppers Fall eerily within their butter-cups: Twist not the poem by the tail To make it cough up its mail When every parcelle de terre is tilled You still need the motive to arrest the poem That willed its worlds into being Through that chartless string of meanings: Rumbling trains of words would derail Even where it did no McCauley entail Cheat not to say it is this not that Which made the poem to make sense If you have something not jibberish to say Even phonemes and syllables will line up: You can then take the poem by the tail Yet swiftly softly will it sail. © T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013