Of these the second is the genuine article. This judgment is not
based on poetic merit so much as knowing Mike's stuff over the
years: the second - apart from the meglomaniac title - isn't his
style at all, whereas the first uses some of his most recurrent
tropes [e.g. the proto-Cartesian "But I do know that there is a
me"], fixes on some form of physical contact with another, and
gets in at least one "halleluiah". It is also has what experts
might call 'Geary's well-sprung rhythms'. I am not sure I
understand the POV of the second poem or what it is trying to say,
or even whether it is wrong to think
THIS
Specificity.
This blade of grass. None other.
The thisness of this is all that matters.
Else is oneness or noneness.
How long does a moment persist?
Has moment a meaning?
One ten thousandth of one sextillionth of a second?
There are no moments unless the universe
Goes in and out of existence
with every quingilltilllenth of quanta of beingness.
So, is there specificity or not?
If I could perceive quickly enough
could I safely say:
"Now it is, now it isn't. Now it is, now it isn't."
I don't know.
But I do know that there is a me
who
when I touch you,
specifically,
there is no doubt --
only the halleluiah of my body and soul.
I have no need for beliefs,
just the specificity of you.
MASTER OF ALL
Master of all things,
wisdom's fine ending
in the air begun with,
water, land's place
in it. Days have gone by
as I have been here.
These things are not
without an ending --
abstract clock
literally so ticks
and I hear it
and look at it.
Hand in the way
of eye's seeing
follows thinking
where to end.
