at the wheelhouse of a cantankerous poem / 10/16/25

It was meant to be smooth sailing with warm southerlies,.. 

helm luffing to weather with a slight upwind chop to the sea

keeping things like navigation, interesting.

In other words, I considered the cantankerous poem

smeared on the screen, incomplete with too many words

which seemed to be yelling at one another.

I’ve been rearranging word groups like a crazed puzzle master

and I’ve had it with the cantankerous poem.

I should let it sink under its own weight.

but there seem to be passages worthy of survival

complicating the situation. the news of the day

is reporting American city invasions of masked marauders

dressed like turtles patrolling the streets with guns

and yelling at the people to: “step back”!–– but to where

do people step back from their own city?

so, I’d like to spend more time communicating the plight

of the people but the damned cantankerous poem resists sinking

and persists on being front and center in all things.

BASTA!

the more you know, the smarter I'll be.