Chekhov and the Cat

“The longer a poem, the weaker the impression that it has been dictated from above: Heaven is not verbose.  The more you talk, the more you lie.”–Vera Pavlova

When I am overly verbose,

I am trying to convince myself,

or my angels that I am worth

their undying devotion.

That, or I’m trying to validate

my reason for being

to unrealized eyes

living in the back of my head.

When I am silent,

I am like the cat

who fluently models

Chekhov’s explanation of grace

as some definite action accomplished

in the least number of movements.

I’m pretty sure if Chekhov and the cat

were in the kitchen together

and Chekhov were explaining his definition,

in so many words,

the cat, remaining still,

would yawn and close its eyes.

Some poems, teasing verbosity,

don’t go anywhere,

yet simply lapse

into the waiting cradle

of silence.

About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of three novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, and Nocturne Variations, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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