Really Something

Well I jumped in the river
That was OK
Fish blinked—
Even without eyelids
I knew
They were blinking
A blue light
Surrounded me
I was the god
Of carp
In a carp cathedral
Sharing the speed of the moon
If they could talk
They’d tell you
I was fucking something


You’re a fool, says my inner critic
Yes I say
Say something smart for once
Says my critic
Who looks faintly like William Powell
I tell him I agree with those
Who say David Hume
Was the complete modern pagan


You have to build yourself up
If you’re a poet
Carp, David Hume,
Whatever it takes


It makes me sad
When poets
Are so serious
Talking about
Their sex lives
Or fashion
When we should
Keep up the fight
Against superstition


My Ph.D. dissertation:

Immanuel Kant never left his home town
His favorite food was Koenigsberger Klops
Dumplings made of minced beef and pork
Cooked in a pale roux
In this way
He was always exhilarated
And bewildered—
The best state
While fighting unjustified beliefs


Dear K:
Why can’t we fight superstition
While talking about our sex lives?
What’s wrong with you?

K answers:
You talk without joy


Having sex and fighting superstition:
Up down, up down,
Beyond the window
The Devil rushes past like a commuter train


Meanwhile in the carp cathedral
No devils no Immanuel Kant
No dumplings
No bells
And if you laugh
You gotta keep your mouth closed

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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