Collected Edges

carlosfleitas@netgate.com.uy

(dedicated to Gene Fowler)

I
Here I am
once again
at the edge
of me & myself
with something to write
Yet nothing to say
It seems like a murder
of language & words
No hope or despair
No tale to be told
or story to be sold
The edge is all



II
What about edges?
borders, barriers, bridges?
Sure a pill
to heal a fuzzy mind.
No in no out.
No up no down.
No left and right tune.
Just the matrix
of surface & volumes.
Maybe much more.
Maybe Space
is the edge
of HyperSpace
is the edge
of SuperSpace
(and so on)


III
Where one ends,
another begins.
Edges love edges
Edges only relate
to edges
When you find one
you find them all
promises, purposes,
paradigms, pilgrims?
Geometry or Geography?
Edges do constellate.
That is all.



IV
Edges here, edges there!
I'm tired of this dry
non sequitur poetry
I want steak & salad
Cheese & cake
Marmalade! Millefleur!
What's the use
of staves
without notes?
Reading without
a Rosetta Stone?



V
Better not quaff them
If so
the whole world
would go gooey
including moon & money
where do you start?
where do I end?
Schizonothing.
Going out-sane
would be the fad
So
for a better knowledge
of men & world
Just sip them, sip them...



VI
A Complete Catalog
of Edges
would have an edge
and the edge
of the Complete Catalog
another edge
Endless it would be
Edge + n
is the root algebra
of the number of edges
our World has.



VII
C'n you imagine
Your Youness
as a cluster of edges?
'Cause
How many edges
are necessary
to build a Youness?



VIII
Paronamasia!
Logomachy!
A crowd of corybantic
conservatives cried
Is ambiguity
the new realm of poetry?
Just bones?
Where is the true flesh
of mankind,
knowledge, lyrics & all?
Where is the true land
of feelings
tragedy & comedy
tears & joy?



IX
Where is the New Land
we've been looking for?
Perhaps crossing
The Edges of Mind
The frontiers of Culture
A New Art
Could outburst its birth
A new Sutra, the new Bible
Of Poetry and everyday All



X
So, here I am
once again
at the edge
with something to write
Yet nothing to say
It seems like a murder
of language & words
No tale to be told
or story to be sold
The edge is all


Carlos Fleitas.
march 2002.
carlosfleitas@netgate.com.uy