Words & Pictures East Coast, LLC

[Home] [Bookstore] [Gallery] [Poets/Artists] [Fun Stuff] [Vital Links] [Contact]


Art Gallery

Poetry & Humor
Lots of Poetry
Featured poem
Humor/Light Verse

Professional Services
About us
Writing Services
Art Services
Web Services

Visual Artists

Local Events

Fun Stuff
Free Samples
Free Art Lesson
Experimental Stuff

Vital Links
Writing Links
Art Links
WEB Info Links

Email & Address Info

[Previous] [Menu] [Next]

Page 241

I juggle words, ideas. I feel like a nudist,
my balls always In the air. I just thought of that,
but having said it, I wonder if it isn't an ancient joke,
a bit of Internet flotsam. But here's one that HAS
to be mine, all mine – soon, sadly, yours: Zaftig ladies,
when they see me coming, flee, squealing "It's that
terrible jug leer!" I'm not so bad. I warn you when the worst
puns are coming. (That's like holding a flaming match
to my farts.) But I'm not bad, really – I just thought
of a far dumber pun, and I'm sparing you. But beware
of the puns. It's a juggle out there. (No, that wasn't
the really dumb one.)

That was me juggling ideas. Now for words (forward!)...
I mean, that was words. Now for ideas. Here's an idea
(or possibly a You-dea): Poet and reader as a juggling team –
I get the bowling pins, tables chairs, teacups, saucers
all circling through my hands, then toss them, one
at a time, to you, and you keep them in motion
between your two hands (or however many you have)
and occasionally a helpful toe or knee, and between
your hands and mine, a blur of ideas, only their arcs
of motion visible now, no way to attribute them
to you or me, nor could a bystander tell if,
when we stop, the table will be at the bottom
or rest on upside-down tea cups atop bowling pins
atop the elephant that stands on the back of the
tortoise...but what is this bystander business?

Toss him something – preferably a knife.
He's in or he's out. Only jugglers allowed here.
No standing by, of or for. If anything stands still here,
it and we may vanish.

[Can one vanish while moving? Certainly,
if one is feeling moving-vanish.]

[A groan is the sound of failing to vanish.]

Note: "Jug leer" – the leer of a man gazing at a zaftig woman's jugs (breasts). "It's a juggle out there" – that is, a jungle. The coinage "You-dea" substitutes "You" for "I" in "idea". It also suggests a Zionist group for kids (in the U.S.) called "Young Judea". (Does that still exist?), for which "You-dea" would be a good portmanteau. But I didn't try to work that in. I'm proud of my self-restraint. Perhaps I thought of Judaism because stanza one uses the Yiddish word "Zaftig" – soft and full-figured.

What stands still does vanish. What happens to matter at absolute zero (the temperature where all motion ceases)? I think the way small-particle physics encounters a continual shifting quality in matter, wherein what is treated as a particle turns out to be a wave and vice versa (like the duck that, looked at again, is seen to be rabbit – and vice versa) – I think this has to do with the way a particle is given persistence: It is created, created, created (no one creation, but a continual creating, but altered in some way with each creation. In a way, it IS change. In another way, it is IT. If you try to find a particle, you find a change (a wave flow). If you try to find a wave flow, you hit a particle. It's an endless tease, a persistence. In a more humdrum sense, stand around doing nothing and see how soon you become invisible.

[Previous] [Menu] [Next]