A Poem
A poem for those who believe that we humans,
because of our special status as intelligent observers,
are Gods who create reality-that is, the world-
through the beliefs and choices implicit in our observations:
I.
When taught language-the great apes first praise tickling.
II.
Given the possibilities, man invents the gas nozzle.
And as for worlds: Disney, the world of soaps, WorldCom,
Fashion World, and Madam Tussaud’s Museum of Wax.
III.
Which of us has ever overcome the impulse to insist and prance?
Or to conflict and influence?
Or even to carbohydrates?
IV.
Maps and equations embed trifling gravity.
V.
Our purpose is, I think, innocuous:
to sweep the sidewalks, to enter bloodlines, to fertilize and fade.
Squall-birds
Squalls torque wave breaks surrounding comber spray, salt, tumult.
Coast-air-sea: effervescent triple-joined-sundering. Fog surf tossed away, air-
born sand.
Trough-trapped wind favors birds-rows flying steady-laminar routes, ruffles
boundary feathers tipping yaw to glide trough-to-trough taming vectors. Whirls
chivy the air.
Chop exchanges shudder jetty rocks Wind plucks foam-form seabirds from
cross-trough transits, sea sprays. Gusts toss birds right up. Disappeared spume.
Ekleksographia:
Wave Two
November, 2009
Poems
Bill YakeBill Yake published one full-length book of poetry with Radiolarian Press, 2004: This Old Riddle: Cormorants and Rain . He is currently nudging a new manuscript of varyingly unconventional poems into print. The poems here in Ekleksographia hint at the nature of that new collection, which tentatively sails under the title: Unfurl, Kite, and Veer.