101 in 1001 {II}: 012 watch duck soup [completed 07.09.10]
brooklyn purples under a goose-egg moon,
tugboats frog-march garbage past the windows,
and sweet freon sophisticates the room.
i stumble into a crush on harpo,
snick-sheared emancipator of pockets;
while i fantasize about greasepaint drag,
i have a soft spot for wordless tempests.
the gentle entropy of trading hats
flows into brother groucho's best lessons:
a uniform's no more than a sight gag,
no good will come of sustained reflection,
and most anything can be taken back.
knowing all this, the cat gnaws my ankle.
patriots leave capitols in shambles.
7 comments:
Now here is some Marxist doctrine I can get behind- but does it work on paper?
debatable, i think, what with slant rhyme and galloping pentameter (i began with and abandoned trochees). this thing came together because i promised myself i'd write a line each time i rode the subway, so i did a lot of whipping the extant draft from my pocket and pressing it against a tree or MTA map or salaryman to scribble out the next ten syllables.
as a newcomer to the marx brothers, i was shocked and pleased to learn that my fondess for snipping off my sister's ramen noodles as she tried to lift them to her mouth had such a classic pedigree.
Your brilliance is only surpassed by your genius.
“For it is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a poem a poem—a thought so passionate and alive that like the spirit of a plant or an animal it has an architecture of its own, and adorns nature with a new thing. The thought and the form are equal in the order of time, but in the order of genesis the thought is prior to the form. The poet has a new thought; she has a whole new experience to unfold; she will tell us how it was with her, and all mankind will be the richer in her fortune.”
Or:
“Married. I can see you right now in the kitchen, bending over a hot stove. But I can’t see the stove.
As for the noodles, Game recognize Game, partna.
you must've been vaccinated with a phonograph needle.
i can't get over rufus t. firefly; it could be the greatest name ever.
Most anything can be taken back.
Apologetic Addendum: Is this palindrome yours or what?
Ed, I saw Harpo Marx ram Oprah W. aside.
...and my dad's name is emperor ed. coincidence?
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