I am a scholar, from the Greek
Word for 'crooked', and my ways
Are crooked: I write poetry
About poetry.
There may be some people
Who truly
Have something to say --
I am not one of them.
All I can do is repeat
Others' fancies,
Maybe looking inside them
For something I fancy myself.
Words are my tricks: I twist them
In amusing ways -- but even this
Is no revelation.
A pun is just a relation
That the language itself somehow
Spoke, and a metaphor
Speaks around what already is,
And is hardly ever true.
Some say language
Involves us
(Devolves us)
In massive delusion, but they
Are still inside the poem --
I mean they think that language
Will always remain in itself.
I am trying to twist language
Like a mobius strip:
When I read a poem
I am trying to find a way out.
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