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Poems
by KJ Hannah Greenberg

 

 

Going to Seed

 

Petunias, also celery, go to seed.

Likewise, persons under lockdown

Lose vigor, shed expendable parts.

 

I read on Facebook, on that “reliable”

Source, that living in pajamas, refusing

Floss, eating breakfast at night, farting,

Were indications of existence morphing.

 

It’s not so much that it’s job insecurity,

Interpersonal crises caused by close

Quarters, elsewise boredom with

Cooking, anxiety regarding eating,

Maskless neighbors—it’s impatience.

 

Few contemporary folks ever practice

Discipline unless necessary for wars,

Finals, Olympic Games, or babies’

Teething; few actually trust life’s

Exactly as it should be. Besides, none

Of us were appointed as “bus driver.”

 


 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

 

The Socialization of Knowledge

 

The socialization of knowledge, that growth of critical reflection

On human interaction, remains partially based on assumptions

Concerning shared linguistic hypotheses.

 

Realize that we benefit exploring communication’s effect on

Ethics and creativity when examining the evolution of select

Dimensions of social systems.

 

Altogether, scrutinizing schemes’ bearings on the complexity 

Of associations among words, actions, and meanings fashions

Our rhetoricians into judges.

 

Providing counsel on morality, in turn, causes those authorities

To squirm against compilations of collective invention, to show

Alternate joie de vivre within mores.

 

Elsewise, we’re stuck with “Enlightenment’s” less extensive

Expositions, with expressions limited to fact/value divisions,

With unsubstantiated a priori arguments.

 

So, we culminate close pragmatic and semantic efforts based

On ancient axioms—we replace special contemplations with

New metatheories, new assumptions.

 

Still, the degree to which/the way how philological invention

Operates impacts our utilization of most holistic philosophies;

We need fresh perspicacity!


 

 

a line, (a short blue one)

 

 

Dying in Pittsburgh with Air Conditioning

 

All of this sheltering in place leaves private business unresolved,

Disremembers fireplace caresses, inserts awkward behaviors like

Placing puppy-sized hysteria, as well as like writhing, swaying,

Manipulating weird guitar music crescendoing toward nothing.

 

A little rain, falling on a lifetime, never casts as “win” or “lose,”

But, like indigo shadows’ juices, surges over foolish inhabitants,

Doolally lovers, silly blokes (many of whom trouble with grand

Disguises or “stupendous friendships” besides nefarious doings).

 

Consider that a weir betwix my bedsit, the world, mayhap, too,

Pure Truth, provides no additional terroirs for raising quokkas,

Quolls, or potoroos. “Me” and “you” yet differ on vrot choices

Vis-à-vis respect. Nasty beasts don’t roam skips when smirking.

 

So pulsations up, poundings down, all around my neighborhood,

Other lads and lassies tarry to expunge pain while I encompass

Any good time void of piezoelectric effects. Naught else appears

Able to restore the frenetic pace my lovemaking earlier exuded.

 

In a land of wind and death, currents scrape lionized resistance

Forms from awkward social tessellations, from quotidian items

Grasped as inveigling rhetoric, from mutterings of balderdash—

Show & Tell’s the heritage I undertook avoiding almost always.

 

My weakened soul no longer pursues full-time pomp or praise;

Only privileged affect could transform the spring-like feeling

Punditry requests (even young gardeners do prove choosy, can

Provoke selection amidst flowers, ably investigate morality.)

 

See, social chiaroscuro, the niggling that there’s still a chance to

Reintegrate bodies, does awkwardly bloom, rattles in poitrines,

Culls emotive catenaries, inflames hearts, attracts aroused visions

(Maybe, equally, asks iterative evolutions within gauche stations.)

 

Meanwhile, homeboys forget all manner of kindness, making us sick

Folks toit. Occasionally, unsurmountable oceans do cause surrender.

Likewise, the wet of rainy days, now and again, lets gray best gold.

So, I die in Pittsburgh, in housewide air conditioning’s fresh splendor.

 

 

a line, (a blue one)

 

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