“AMERICAN KNOW-HOW: Patent Pending” by Craig Czury

Excerpts from “AMERICAN KNOW-HOW: Patent Pending” by Craig Czury

speak your poem into a microphone
in a clear melodic voice
do you really think someone is out there
in a sound-proof booth
think your poem while sifting through your muddled thoughts
on the way to clearing your throat
satellites are already tracking the origin of your species

at night wander around your backyard
with your eyes closed
randomly reaching for and kissing the dark air
the words of your next poem
will spell themselves on a oui-ja board

fold your poem into a dunce cap
and wear it in the corner
standing upside-down sirsasana yoga-style
explain to the great tantric readers of poetry
you’re an ice cream cone

a bible a biblio a bib
the word the world the worm
with your mouth full of all the wild and crazy
brilliant words you never tell anyone
dribble your poem all down your front
lie down on the sofa take a nap
your chest rising up and down in rem sleep

between the space of being here but not really here
write a poem
take off your clothes and dive in without holding your breath

Your obstinacy
Your violet transmitting flame
The recurring voice in your dream
Capitalize the first letter of each line
And turn your poem on its ear like a skyline
That place where poetry comes from inside you
Your heart your spleen your unfathomable gut-feelings
Run this poem through http://www.mapquest.com/
Send me the way you got here

write a poem with your toes in the sand
and scoop it with your hands into a piñata
hang it from the lowest dead branch of the iguana tree
in your best spanish accent tell the children eetsa beeheev

while the sidewalk cement is still wet
write your poem with a stick
and run to the house across the street for cover
house with the same last name of an obscure hungarian kabbalahist
c  s  u  r  i
claiming to be a big fan
the old man who answers the door is nose-bleeding ink

chisel your poem into the accumulated
soap-scum in your bathtub with an electric toothbrush
take a long hot soak a long hot soak hell
the way this poem vibrates take a long hot soak

of course grad students and scholars
will figure out these know-how digits
years too late
are winning lotto numbers

change your name and run away from home
change your birthday to leap year
at high school reunions show up 3/4 everyone’s age
twirling your poem around strands of your hair with your finger
at funerals sit in the first row
cross your legs and tap out your poem with the open toes of your sandal

and write a poem in the dust before it settles
send your mop to the library of congress

write a poem in soap bubbles across your bathwater
step in and submerse yourself in the luxuriant language
of eels

on the bottom of one shoe
write your poem and step forward
on the bottom of your other shoe
write the negative of your poem and step
it’s not clear which way to step
the turns this world has been taking
it would be best to grab a ladder
and climb down

unscroll a roll of film
from your antiquated camera
and write lines from your poem
across each frame
snip and juxtapose

there are more lost than rises in the throat silt at the
edge condemned how it is we float this meal of air
crossing water crossing tattered to alleviate the
weight faraway like a question sweeping only the
born here cut rough know crematorium smoke
against incoming cold ground beside you to a smooth
blue eyeball the way they sound let me to cross over
slide in

splutter the frames like pages in a book

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  1. Great poems from a sublime and real poet.

  2. Great poems from a sublime and real poet!

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