You know language is complicated and felth. And, artificially speaking, intelligence can be learned; so who knows what you’re really like. Look at what’s happened to dating.
Look at the spuddled mess of our beloved messenger: Cupid. [ uh huh, ok. Sure, you’re trying ]
Messages are so compact, but not mine. I teeter on. I keep it rambling, baby, yea!
No forswunking here. I mean what I say. I don’t need emoticons, though I like them. I like showing you what I’m going to tell and why the hell not?
So what if we’re all feeding into a societal porn or societal norm online– memory gets replayed now. We alter it. Create your own scenes. Miswire. Use words to mean different
words, but don’t darg the intent. The intent should be golden, purposeful and proud. The reference to them never appears because I don’t want it to. Here, I’ll try not to moffle:
I speak from the heart. Always will. The screen-size doesn’t matter. Size doesn’t, too. I have restraint. Now, I feel dirty in my rambles. In my brambles. and gambles. Oh well, my personage is crystal clear.
© Umansky 2011
[…] While she began with writing more traditional narrative poetry, Umansky has largely moved into the realm of experimental poetry, a sticky label, but one that connotes a playful willingness to tackle not only unprecedented content, but new and amalgamated forms. Umansky’s recent poems: dense, intelligent, and allusive, require a sacrifice of time to wade through the ambiguities and secrets of her poems, but they always reward you for the required effort. In terms of form, Umansky, in the manner of the forerunner, E.E. Cummings, uses space, brilliantly. Many of her poems tackle the complex intersection between art, identity and technology, and in that vein, many of her poems mimic the total noise of contemporary life. Consequently, reading Umansky’s poems feel like a heady rush into a world of evocative words thrown at you, bombarded by the never ending choir of discordant voices, only to end with an ample gap between the words that most often provides a space to breathe, a meditative silence between the words that reclaims the world from the speed of information. (See her poem, Notice the Reference to Them Never Appears.) […]