Tom Hibbard


OVERBEARING EPISTEMES MIGHT BE FUTILE

in the
darkest
forest of all
mish-i-gunda
remade in three days
without fanfare
from shattered mirrors
beyond repair
going back
where pain
has never set foot
thick opportunistic smoke
swoops down
unacquainted
with the nostalgic language
of birthday cake
polite weeping
so tranquil before
not yet set in
unfathomable widespread
the allure
of gambling frenzy
produces with chained
prepackaged
struggling mouthed
who will lead
us away
along suspicious paths
more a non-path
until consequence
without involvement
whose import is not undiscernible
mulberry hill
methodically draining every gap
and on top the hill
a housing development

who has the courage to understand
who has the courage
to live
outside the wall
in which the emperor is buried
along with his wives
his dinner plates
his chef
his aloofness
a wall bound to sleep
a wall that costs homeowners
their rightful share
in the process of trying to insure
food-stamps
sunnis and shiites
east and west
twelfth-century self-promotion
whatever is in it
the deceptive water
that quenches the thirst
to know without thinking
today’s troubles
tomorrow's solutions
unassailable reasoning
embracing meaninglessness
with a fervor derived from pure horror
it isn't easy
at every opportunity
paying homage
to mankind's most enduring dream:
from a height of fifty feet
to dive into a pail of water

in the very small town
with no illness
disparate elements
phantom resistance
spreading
like the drums of “anyone”
from as long ago as 2005
accidentally you
turned gold into lead
not all of it
nobody's perfect
i can no longer see
across the middle-east valley
where nothing remains familiar
my back turned
toward myself
or perhaps it was for the best
i can't really tell
indulgence
seeing without perceiving
claims victory
in cliches
famous quotations
from a towering source
smothered in blueberry syrup
long forgotten
with the tables turning
as always
as always
walk away from
the unbridgeable gulf
from exploiting to exploiting
until we have
learned to speak plainly
the cock's crow
probably worth
a dinner at karl and gretchens
without you
government is only
a case of mistaken identity

everyone
doesn't have the brains they were born with
making big ones into little ones
rightly so
is generous
conveys a sense
bit by bit
not all at once
only fools don’t agree
with the perverse defiant reasons
uniformity
called off the search
for free intangible world-hood
abandoned
the oppressor will stumble
in the foot race
you ran with one leg
in which you came in last
due to all your
troublesome
straying ways
screaming
in the straightjacket
of true love
as complicated
as the idea of primitive man
trying to hide from
god his crimes
against nature
as complicated
as the pill
for getting rid of chipmunks
outsourcing jobs
at the moment
you check on how i'm doing

Tom Hibbard's new book, Place of Uncertainty, from which the poem above is taken, will be published by Otoliths in December.

 
 
 
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