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Monday, July 11, 2011

One For Three

I've heard it said by expert oenophiles (lovers of wine) that the human palate can only detect three discrete flavors at once. I'm not an expert oenophile (though I am an amateur one -- and that's no boast: if you like wine, you probably are, too), but this seems true.


As with the palate, so, too, with the hands. It's difficult to do three things at once. Perhaps this (and symmetry, proportion, etc.) is why God gave us two hands. Perhaps unidexterity is a postlapsarian phenomenon. (Perhaps this prologue is becoming too parenthetical.)


This is a story about a fellow who tried to do three things that White People Like at once. In the end this was too white a task even for him.


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One For Three



I would like to smoke,
Drink coffee, write a poem
All at once. I can't.

Unless it's haiku,
Happening just in my head.
Then it's possible.

Coffee is hot, though.
I can't drink it when the motes
Of oil are swirling.

These must first slow down.
Then and only then may I
Compose a poem.



But who's ever heard
Of haiku-stanza poems?
Honestly, not me.

Cigarette is out.
This is not a true poem.
At least there's coffee.


+ VDMA





2 comments:

  1. Trent Demarest! I love this getting away with writing pretentious esoteric-y sounding haiku while looking like you're just mocking yourself. So funny!

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  2. Hahaha. I love this one, Trent. Your voice really comes out in it.

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