JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

take a line or two of poetry, a piece of

haiku, tanka, sonnet or dry prose

and break it up

 

into its components: trees and rain

and baby deer perhaps

cavorting in phonetic symbols

 

dancing across the visual

cortex of a savage mind

unrecognized as yet as poetry

 

but still with dawning wonder

at a curtain drawn aside

a window to a world of words

 

sounds and sibilance, ideograms

cave paintings suddenly transformed

to hints and codes and shapes of meaning

 

a line of curious images now reassembled

into structures bold and new

 

like haiku, tanka, sonnet or dry prose

now joyously a glimpse of future literature

a cultural new world of rhyme and rhythm

 

a prehistoric ballad of prediction codenamed

yabba dabba doo