Emile, or On Words

Emile started walking
Atop his tonguey talking
To find how far his bock-bock-bocking
Got him just to be left gawking.
All his whirly worldly wording,
His title as Sir Baron Blurting,
His alphabetically endless spurtings
Had yet to get him somewhere worthy.
At longest last he silent stood
At brambly edge of wordy woods
Done rambling on the likelihood
That all his saying did great good.
He got somewhere that can’t be said.
A place where only ____ ____ tread.
The larger realm where word is dead.
That’s all that may be wrote or read.

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Out of Yourself

For when you want on out of yourself
I’d say we could switch places,
But I’d be lying out your teeth
To my sweet, innocent faces
If I said that I’d be fine
With all that such erases.
More than that, with hand in hat,
I feel if you go, go far.
Blow by both boring and bizarre.
Blow out that final star.
Go till all else is gone
To find out what you are.
Once you know I think you’ll see
We dearly need you where
You meet your youest self,
Someone deserving of your care.
I hope that you return to you,
I’ll gladly meet you there.

The Sea Sailed In

The Sea sailed in on silver dreams
To see the little boy who seemed
To be a fish who flew upstream
And lost his gills but not his way
Before he found a place to stay
In one Mountain’s rainy day.

Boulder was the name he sold
As his but was better known as Bold
However many times he told
His buggy buddies they were wrong
They’d say in turn, “Too long! Too long!
And Boulder’s good but Bold belongs!”

He’s the only son the Sea has had,
Nine thousand daughters and one lad,
And it’s safe to say the Sea was glad,
Then dreams gave way, the Sea receded
Back to deeps where it was needed,
Leaving land lovingly seeded.

Yes, Bold knew just what to do,
He tended to his garden true,
Astounding Mountain with what grew –
Giant squids and octopus,
Coral, kelp and crabby nests,
Pearls and fishy flashiness.

Bold’s buddies watered and fed salt
From Mountain’s private golden vault
To ocean darlings without halt
Until this hale and hearty crop
Felt the waves and windy chop
And dropped into the Mountain top.

Old Mountain then dipped to the shore
Full of worlds and wanting more
Into the roaring Sea he poured,
And Bold and buddies alone again
With nothing but a day of rain
Went and made their own Sea then.

The Sea Sailed In

Illustration by SP.

Wonder, Do

When you wonder what to do,
Look yourself right in the eyes,
Yes, cross-eyed is always wise
When looking for an answer.
If there might be the slimmest chance or
Glimmer of an easy out
Take instead the roundabout
Route around to what you should.
Better is not always good,
Babble on down backest roads,
Ramble on with backwards loads
Until somewhere is somewhere.
Fortune seeks the unfair.
Most of all you must ignore
Whatever nonsense I implore
When you wonder what to do.

This much is true:
You must wonder.
You must do.
The order’s up to you.