Leah Umansky – Poetry Blog

my new books arrived! so exciting!

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See my author page at BlazeVOX for ordering info.

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When Boys Become Werewolves

for marina

When boys become werewolves

they come back stronger,

to suffer

after the very soft life

feats relate to feats            

say, next

say, more

say, more to me next week

and falsify the known.

Even the readiest marks

can run.  Harvest, here.  And tell me, how

and let the lunar lie. Rustle here. Lie to me.

One moon. Four stars. Two girls. One car. One wish. One moon. Four Stars. Two girls. One car. One wish. One moon. Four Stars. Two girls. One car. One moon. Four Stars. Two girls. One car…

© Umansky 2012

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The Human Animal and the Story Animal play on the page.

Sure, they poke and wrestle, but they mean well as nicely as they mean.

But, are our what ifs truly universal? Do all tales compute?

Sometimes, there is a collection of trouble in the way the story functions and plays.

One small lie gives the Story, a ball and chain, and the Human, a crossbow.

The human animal and the story animal play innocently.

The story not only sticks, it mesmerizes and binds. Its potency is pure.

We are hard wired to change the world, but are they? Is the story?

In this life, are our what ifs truly universal?

Universally speaking, what if our stories are not created equally, and our compulsion

to invent is merely at rest in our bindings or unbindings to this world?

The human animal and the story animal play on the page,

and when one bleeds, after their picking and poking, nibbling, and kneading

do we  really need a winner? Isn’t blood, blood? Is it about free-will,

or all just gobbledygook? In this life, are our what ifs truly universal?

Let’s instruct this: I’ll assist, and insist. Both animals are proud beasts.

The fabric of this Neverland of ours is linguistical not analytical. Envision 

the tale, it all begins in sounds: Horse. Bear. Fowl. Fish. Child. GhoulGhoulGhoul

All stories are indivisible by all. They run deep inside this brush or page,

this Brave New Stage, and our what ifs might thieve us.

                                                                                            and the universe may be in on it all

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© Umansky 2012

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for the humans who might play computers in the upcoming American Crossword Puzzle Tournament

We are mince-meat. The day is past where humans reign supreme. The Doctor is in and he will fill the page without logic; without reason.  We all play the game: reading the prompts, counting the letters, thinking of the correlations and the permutations.

Some play the game differently. We recognize patterns. (and I don’t mean window curtains or tabletops). We have knowledge and experience in lieu of calculations and statistics though, a shift in gears can produce a high-speed roadway for the human mind.  We don’t need to be charged, unlike our opponents.

                                                            We get the joke; it’s funny.

The machines are beating us with our own language –  with their fancy programs and their implanted intelligence. Where they are taking us?  Gone are the days of pencil and pen, (forget about fingers and digits).  They are adaptable, and we, we are creatures of habit. They are resilient while we age poorly. They spot matches *like that* and our synapses just  spaz. They say The Good Doctor will “kill the field,” as in level out the playing field, as in KILL THE HUMANS!

                                                            What Will Would Shortz Do? (WWWSD?)

 Give up and die?  We must go forth into that dark night and carry our heads high and walk even if we are weary, and think, even if we are parched and thin. We must be a-w-a-r-e in these electric times… 

The hurdle is in the extension of cord versus cord.  Spine verses Wire. We can build the strength of body and brain. All they’ve got is little men with little fingers furiously typing code encrypted with artificial humor. We’ve got the life inside us. 

© Umansky 2012

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