Apr '13
3
Today I was reading an essay from Lyn Hejinian's book The Language of Inquiry. This intriguing title, 'A thought is the bride of what thinking', prompted today’s rather tongue-in-cheek poem.
An inquiry of marriage
A Thought is the bride of what Thinking?
What glamorous wedding occurred?
Who oversaw the conjoining?
Who had the final word?
What Thinking was led to this Thought,
seduced by her insight and flair?
Her poetics and logic astonished
her pithy expressions compared
to no others that Thinking considered.
Did Thinking find her, alone?
Or was she ensconced in a fortress
waiting for Thinking to come?
Or did she come to Thinking, no warning
while he was alone in his room?
While he partied with friends in the city?
While he walked by the ocean at noon?
This union's unlikely to last
Thinking will wed many more over time,
but Thoughts will have the last laugh
when they check out of his aging mind.
An inquiry of marriage
A Thought is the bride of what Thinking?
What glamorous wedding occurred?
Who oversaw the conjoining?
Who had the final word?
What Thinking was led to this Thought,
seduced by her insight and flair?
Her poetics and logic astonished
her pithy expressions compared
to no others that Thinking considered.
Did Thinking find her, alone?
Or was she ensconced in a fortress
waiting for Thinking to come?
Or did she come to Thinking, no warning
while he was alone in his room?
While he partied with friends in the city?
While he walked by the ocean at noon?
This union's unlikely to last
Thinking will wed many more over time,
but Thoughts will have the last laugh
when they check out of his aging mind.
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