My Way_ Speeches and Poems - Charles Bernstein

l~e ~euenge of t~e ~oet-[ritic. or l~e ~arts
~re ~reater l~an t~e ~um of t~e rn~ole
The men on the hill, they say, "learn the rules, then break them."
I like to "think the reverse" whenever possible and even if not:
break 'em enough times you won't have to learn 'em, or the rules will
have changed, or you will change them, or make up your own rules and
don't follow those either; anyway whose rules are they?, I didn't see the
signs, musta missed them in the duststorm; or as we say in Medias Res
(Medias Res, Nevada)-rope 'em and then learn 'em, shoot 'em and then
cook 'em (chop up fine before marinating indefinitely), float jerkily and
carry a Bic pen at all times, where aim It, is this my fear / or did I just step
into the public sphere?, are you there Mordred?; Give me your tired tuxes,
your tattered nabobs of oligarchy yearning to Keep that Smut Off the Net,
Thank you Senator Exxon the open spaces around here were scaring me,
how many syllables can you fit on the head of a pin cushion? what's that
spell, Mario? who are you calling a verse? That's not what I meant y'all, not
what I meant at all.
Up High Down Low Too Slow
Values like the butter on the table melting
before the memory of the butter on the table
melting: a ring around the four o'clock
shadow made with a horseless bark
and liltless sigh by an organ grinder
peering over the leaning tower formally known
as Pisa. Get a rocking chair and put
her sequence in it, tie it with the sting
of soot & smoke & kerosene, then
sucker punch all those blundered trusts
cuffed to the caboose of unreturnable
rebukes. A penny for a
paradise, a nickel for a ride, a