Poetry Is A Panama Hat Poem by Volkan Hacioglu

'Let the recklesness be our life,
And forget as we feel! '

Fernando Pessoa

Poetry is a Panama hat
That covers the faces of dead navvies
Its black band flung in the wind
And when it’s rolled
In their hands stiff
with the tight fists
as thin as their last breath
to pass through an engagement ring

Poetry is to make the long story short
The cold side of the iron, the sharp point of the knife
The ancient prophecy of the penknife that the omniscient Goethe
Threw into the river several times
A promise not kept
About a cursed love
A lie, a slander, a poison
On the edge of the Ockham’s razor
Dried drop of blood
Left from an old Knight
And the rumour talked about
A curial betrayal

Poetry is the archive of Now
Not in the rank of Presence, but in the manner of Absence
In fact never to be
A pair of tricky dice ever tossed
And never will be
Hold fast in the hands of Fate

Poetry is Schrödinger’s cat
Both dead and alive in the box of Pandora
Its atom number is 666!
That persistent illusion which the reality
Is imprisioned to the probability
Like a still eye in sleep
The three dimensional timelessness of dreams
—Heri, Cras, Hodie, —
The Grotesque painter painted by the Picture
As he paints his self portrait
“The Aesthetic in the death of the sun! ”

The difference between looking and seeing: See the riddle of universe
The equation between going and coming:
See Calder’s mobile sculptures
The paradox between thinking and understanding:
See human failure—

Laplace’s omniscient Demon,
Maxwell’s well mannered Elf,
And Heisenberg’s Principle of Uncertainty...

Poetry is a definite article!