Directory:Jon Awbrey/Poetry/Questionable Verses

ethos anthropoi daimon

deeming done dun a man doom
a man's manner is'm demoon

a man's cant is his dome :
a woman's master in that
   enchanted domain
where conscience is the demon ,
and the code of his duel is decrypted
   with a ringing in the ears
and a tire iron coming
   from the corner of an eye .

a man's manner is'm demoon
deeming done din a man doom

jon awbrey
scribed in a volume of magritte plates
for sue on her birthday 1980 with love

Cassandroid Anxieties Revisited

And the Ire came over Cassandra,
And Cassandra went out the City,
And Cassandra came to that Rock,
And thus spake the Rock, I hear:

And why are you thus speaking to a Rock, It says,
And when the State of your City is Dire, It says,

And it is Just your Monu-Mental Agility, She says,
And it is Just your Ex-Orbital Capacity, She says,

And should you not Ride Over Our Moment, It says,
And should you not Ventilate Our Hyphen, It says,

And should you Muse Over Our Reflection, She says,
And Imp Etat "I Travail" As "A Trivial", She says,

And after that they settled down a Bit, I hear,
And after that they counted more Amens, I hear,

And the Rock will be open to criticism, She says,
And the Rock may reflect on its moment, She says,

And still the Men of the City will vie, It says,
And still the Men of the City will die, It says,

And they are Persians all, so they say, She says,
And they are wary of Geeks' boring GIF, She says,

And still the Men of the City will lie, It says,
And still the Men of the City will lie, It says,

And all of that Need need come to pass, She says,
And must pass muster to bear Invention, She says,

And the Rock will be open to criticism, It says,
And the Rock may reflect on its moment, It says,

And that is just Men, the Sphinx knows, She says,
And that is just Ending-Where-He-Begat, It says,
And that is all there is to say, or so, I hear.

Jon Awbrey
21 Nov 2000

For The Master Of The Games On His Birthday

Do we feign understanding of what underlies,
And so become victim to the figmentations
That the mind posts up to the lintels of sense?

Or do we but array the Data Of The Senses
Along the lines that they themselves suggest?

Then again, on third thought, what's the diff?

— Jon Awbrey, 16 December 2007

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