Three Word Wednesday has offered the words, engulf, imminent, tamper. I used them several times in my romp through space/time. Perhaps there is some sanity somewhere, but probably not here today. I am wandering in search of an honest man, while carrying a sputtering whale oil lamp. The aroma is arresting. It's all rock and roll.
Don't Blame Me
You engulf the sun, imminent heat death: yes indeed, you tamper with the scheme of things. Holy crap! I stand accused but I deny it, I am innocent, innocent I say! Even though my condemnation is so goddam imminent, I hate to tamper with your life, don't you know I do. I'll engulf my days with due regret. (Perhaps I shall fly off at speed to the far, far indolent corners, there to lick my weeping cheesy wounds.) You eat time with red sauce, engulf space with hot intention, and I am pregnant with ideas now soon to wobble forth topsy-turvy, soon to tamper gracelessly with your imminent majesty, you very freaking eminence. Hope you can guess my name. That's what Jagger said.
Some years ago my poetry took on a mythic flavor and I became a character in my own poems, a mage, "the man of the Northern Wall". This apellation is not completely fictional. My middle name is Noordwal, a Dutch term for north wall, though in current Dutch it mainly means north bank as in riverbank. I was told that an ancestor, a Portugese Jew escaping the Inquisition, settled in a small Dutch town and took this name from where he settled, near the north wall of the town. I have thought for a long time that -wal meant wall, think my mother told me that. A linguist might say that my usage is no longer common, is an older usage, but then the Inquisition happened in Portugal a few centuries ago, right around the time the Moors lost control of the Iberian Peninsula and the Jews lost the modest protection given them by Islam. Now I write as this mage, my poetry persona.