TOO ARTICULATE

At times I’m so articulate,
That I don’t even seem poetic…

But when you re-read,
And realize,
That what I’m articulating,
My poetic predecessors,
Were only able to hint at…

– Their perceptive insufficiencies,
Masquerading as poetic profundities –

You come to appreciate,
My unprecedented sense of clarity!

Until now,
Poetry meant haziness…

Half-expressed portraits & images…

Unfinished, impressionistic jabs,
At notions,
And logic,
And desires,
Just beyond their grasp…

And now I come,
And devour these notions,
And define them,
And excrete them,
Into bite-size digestable portions…

Perfectly packaged and polished…

So perfect as to slightly veil their profundity…

Bite into one, why don’t you?

Swallow it and digest it,
And see what enters your bloodstream…

See if you don’t loosen up…

See if you don’t wisen up…

See if you don’t fire up…

And constantly come back for more…