I have a mouth full of nothing 
and a head full of dust. 

Nothing should be louder than it has to be. 
Really, it needs to be louder than it is. 

Necessity and practicality 
are form following function 
into the depths;
need needlessly preceding 
actuation and utilization. 

The permutations of 
"the devil is in the permutations" are 
the unforeseen repercussions: 
unknown reverberations in an empty cave;
the avalanche of order becoming apparent chaos;
noise from melody; cacophony from creaking polyphony; 
the Greek leading the Latin into the vulgar, 
that bastardization of language, that melting pot of forms;
the fomenting cauldron of lack and happenstance and opportunity;
the operational operetta of oedipal angst; 
an open ordering of opposites.  

First impressions matter most 
when most impressive matters 
are pressingly foremost. 

The arbitrary etiquette of knife-fork-and-spoon placement 
is everything.

Make up your mind.  
Make it matter. 
Make it matter for molding. 
Make it moist. 
Wake up your most important matters 
and get them to the breakfast table, 
that familiar chameleon mending its ways, 
that chameleon familiar wending its maze 
and by-ways and highways, 
dodging the bullet, fitting the profile-- 
diaphanous, diffident, and alone.  

It has filled my head with holes; 
hollow testimony to my self-abuse, 
my self-neglect and my amputated ego.

...puttin' the Po in NaPoWriMo...

6 thoughts on “Diffidence

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