Reductio Ad Absurdum, Hold The Mayo
Painting over an anomaly or cultivating an
outsider image, sitting on a cardboard suitcase with
white chickens, Einstein won’t play nice. If X and
X’s opposite complete the field then Satan’s saying
Which of them is best known by the company they
squander? Who told them their clothing is not itself
naked, one of them is adjectivally unmodified and
one is not amused by post-hypnosis, contradicting
natural law? Who told them that without the
saxophone they’re leaning into they would fall?
In The Manner To Which I’m Accustomed
Not changing nature’s arc but adding
content, fountain of youth or undoing, first the
sermon then the sandwich. I’m so willing to be
willed into existence, pick the pieces up and look
around for confirmation. Damn the randomness and
perfect circles, I’ll say, Out of hearing, out of heart.
When part of Oregon is part of Idaho I’ll say, Good
luck. When heat is light light casts an aspect. Let
me look at you and step into the infrared. If when I
enter what is wanted is a legacy, an atom and an
end, be still my heart, eternally equivocal my body
english, streetlight sizzle off and then back on.
Less Is More II
Angels missiles barely graze me. In my
solitude on cavern walls I’m painting hunting.
There’s no quantum state but in inclusion. To the
last attractive soul that’s Maxwell’s demon at the
door. A pendulum for angular momentum’s
individuation, vertigo but to thine own self give
what for. So pseudo-randomly I sample I eschew no
self-selected head of hair. If only to be savored
later, go and sin no more.
And while you’re at it why not outlaw
something everybody does then detain those who
fail to know their rights? It’s from a spooky distance
goofy godly Elvis moves the furniture about. No
self-respecting astronaut goes golfing for no reason.
Effigies unmitigated, blushing, bide. Who told the
eyes the eyes were naked, focusing on only lonely
fruit? This voucher’s good for one big bang and one
abiogenesis. The probability of one hand is the
same as that of any other, namely, the reciprocal of
fifty-two choose five.
In a past century Heikki Huotari attended a one-room school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. He’s a retired math professor and has published poems in numerous literary journals, including Spillway, the American Journal of Poetry and Willow Springs. His fourth collection, Deja Vu Goes Both Ways, won the Star 82 Press Book Award.