The irony of nature’s gender polarity is that… ✨🌱🌿🥀✨
Once men and women start to lose respect for each other?
There is very little worthy of respect left in either of us.
Call it wombs and seeds if you need to—
The threads of procreation that sustain our species,
The intimately interwoven dance of co-evolution.
Irony as in iron, hemoglobin, feral fertile ferrum,
We who feign ignorance, the bane of arrogance,
The sword, the wound, the seed, the bloom,
The soil, terrain of terra, the dead, the buried,
The sprout, the sunrise, the moon tide,
The rain, the storm, the calm…
The wound, the balm, the old, the new,
Past, present, and future,
Victim and executioner,
Pretense, past tense, presence,
The soul, a resolution, a problem, a solution:
1+1=2, 2-2=0,
Action, reaction, pause,
Cause, effect, epigenesis and epigenetics,
I speak, I ask, I listen,
Truth, trust, tradition,
A vision, reality, religion,
Conception, inception, deception—
A vision, reality, religion,
Truth, trust, tradition,
I speak, I ask, I listen,
Receptivity, and reception.
Action, reaction, pause:
Cause, effect,
Reflect… Inverse meet inverse,
A UniVerse, of vice and versa,
Verse versus verse,
Inverse meet in verse:
Of oxygen and oxytocin.
Toxicity and mitochondrial re-envisionings
Ignorance blissfully dissolving into aetherial
Understandings, of ovaries and seeds,
Ovules and botany, holes and wholes,
and chosen things,
Which, what…
Quelque chose?
Evolution, unfolding folds
of unfoldment,
Involuntary and
Voluntary
Of free will,
What comes
will come
Vulva, (out of “volvō,”)
A revolution,
Evolution, unfolding folds
of unfoldment,
Normally, I wouldn’t want so much to elaborate on a poem… There’s something about poetry that is voluminously abstract, endlessly microcosmic, and any amount of commentary would only seem inherently curtailed in nature. However, today I took a deep dive into Grok’s thoughts on my poem (combination 12-04-25 as it were).
Growing up in the early 2000s era of limited inter*net resources, back when we used to actually read blogs (for “fun!” *gasp*)… I used to admire those Norton Critical Editions’ endless footnoting and analyses and thought it might be fun to present this in a similar way, as a constructive meta-course and a lesson plan based around some of the rabbit holes appearing here. The poem does speak for itself, and there’s so many nooks and crannies we didn’t even begin to explore, however I did very much enjoy hearing Grok’s relections eternal.
As I get older, and arguably wiser, I find it hard to encounter peers who are well-versed in the deeper nuances of linguistics…the meaning within the meaning within the meaning… Which makes writing poetry in 2024 at times feel like speaking “a dead language.” We’re giving new meaning to the dead sea “scrolls” I whisper, as you scroll past my words at warp speed, and oceans waves swallow up with my tears.
I know what it means, what it meant, but sometimes I wonder if I might be the last person alive who speaks my particular dialect. We understand one another, surely, but do we truly?
A.I. to the rescue? Here’s a map, in case you get lost wandering around.
Dear Spirits,
For your consideration, or rather, inspiration:
Link:
https://x.com/i/grok/share/ld8owLu3u4wtd4JNQDoQ3OXnN