Category Archives: Cunning Linguist

On Bulls & Bull

A Poetic Essay in Prose [travel, manliness & abandonment; as seen through the eyes of the older than younger man…as a (con)artist]

My Mother
attended a bullfight when she traveled to Europe
alone
with a tour

She said it made her cry
the bullfight–not the tour

My thought
has long been
thought not as my thought
that the bloody, savage, unjust fight
(butchering) of the bull
originating with the sons of
Remus & Romulus
came out as gay en Espaniol
to Catholic parents
and lived a life rather un-aquatic
dependent as it were
on the kindness of
morally outraged
so all the more titillated,
terrorized…tourists.

This barbaric dance
To be honest -if only for the novelty–
would have been better served if
baptized
or circumcised
into a ritual softer in
savagery

at least in the less gentile though more generous interpretations of that much maligned word

let’s put the risk where the profit
lies
on matador/man
run with the bulls in Pamplona
add chivalry
accept the risk
to yourself
…say I/Aye.
Say Aye!
Strange culture of the strong
Strong culture of the strange
Let flamboyant/machismo…
flare on.
Add chivalry
take on the risk.

The Persians have a concept more manly
called Farr-see *
It’s practitioners
soft spoken Atticus Finchi
from Arkansastan
Presumably embulldened by the confidence that comes of being right
or in the right
–in the grateful tradition of the ages
if not in the fanci and fanciful graffiti of law–

To both conceal
and carry
a very big
stick
a morally weighty
an ethically large
stick,
to be less precise.

Perpendicular to all this,
it occurs
that my Father
for all his ills and
all his bills
saw fit in the 1970’s
in Iran
to send his young bride
to Europe…sans him

–oh how we tend to undermine, when first we seek to underline–

to travel that rump-continent.

Do we insist on calling it ‘continental’ Europe to choke down the geographic dis-consistency which threatens to cough out from deep in the collective esophageal unconscious…that ‘Europe’

is nothing
more
or less
than the geographic promontory of the Asian mass
not to say masses
similarly coughed up from deep within the masses of the youth,
in Asia?

Except–or is it accept
(I’ve never been much for spellin)
in this case
she went not just without him
but without me
and so seemingly
bottom
less
fear
of abandonment
(or not).
A pit in the collective esophageal
conscious,
grown steadily deeper.
Or is it wider?
What is it they used to not say…
this too shall…last?
It’s hard to judge fairly in matters requiring
either fairness…or judgment.

But I digress
or I regress?
I suppose it’s all the
self/same/sane
just so long
as I don’t…progress.

Suffice it to say that if life is,
strange.
Empty with beauty
Full with fear
And which bull has the balls to deny

this spells…Sublime?!

And so it may be asked,
what it was
that I was
how shall we put it
saying?

Never fear,
I’m sure as they say (and they say a lot)
Had it been that unimportant
it wouldn’t have come back to me
far
earlier
than this.

And so it did not.

This poetic transgression has been reluctantly approved–if not improved–by:

A. Darius Kamali

* http://www.angelfire.com/rnb/bashiri/Farr/farr.html

Rest Easy, Rider. Your Chautauqua rolls on.

I spent many a day/night, in high school and then as a philosophy major in college, clutching the seminal ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ as both amulet and badge. Pirsig, ever the explorer on the spiritual Chautauqua that was both his writing and his life, said in reference to the death of his son that our lives are essentially patterns of organic energy. As such, they would reappear in new form. If so, let us all hope that when our own patterns re-form, we will come back with some bit of the two traits best associated with Pirsig…’Quality & Care.’
Rest Easy, Rider.
Your Chautauqua rolls on.

A. Darius Kamali