I thought that tonight
I would try to be concise
So here’s a haiku:

Poems are my ballasts

Actually, I need to cut myself off there. See the conceit of this poem is that you all are aware of what ballasts are in terms of naval ships and not everybody does, so if I could just take a minute to explain.

A ballast is basically a counterweight on a ship or submarine. They’re these big tanks  that can fill with either water or air, so if the ship starts leaning to one side it can fill the ballast and balance out.

So for example, if you were cheated on after four and a half FUCKING years, you might take on way too many tasks at work and sabotage yourself because if you’re going to sink you might as well go down upright and on your own god damn terms and

I’m sorry, got a little off track there, let me start over.

Poems are my ballasts
With paper Doric columns

Actually. Sorry I just got to take another second here to explain this, it’s sort of obscure. So in old architecture, like Greek and Roman Old, there were just a ton of columns, everywhere. Giant stone pillars that held everything up, and he tops would usually be decorative, and there was this range.

So, Corinthian columns would be super ornate and fancy and you’d see them adorn and know the wealth they stood for. Then there were ionic, were just unremarkable middle children, and at the very very very bottom were Doric columns.

They were basically flat tops without any type of style or artistry, and I mean they worked just fine they were just very plain looking.

So, when I was writing this haiku I wanted to talk about Corinthian columns, because they’re so thoughtful and intricate and artistic, but when you’re writing a haiku you have to be super mindful of your syllable usage and, fun fact, Corinthian is about three hundred  thirty four thousand syllables long

And, once again I’m rambling so for the sake of brevity on completeness let’s take it from the top one more time:

You know, I get the skill and playfulness of haiku but the restrictions are so intense, I’m incensed with a pen scratching out a hundred lines for each I’ve written, to commit to a word in a haiku is to adopt a child in a tight-knit family, sure you could write a hundred haiku by tomorrow evening if you wanted but I’d be haunted by each unrefined line I could not optimize

I just want to convey something profound or inspiring, even something as benign as “I could do better than that.” But here, reading aloud on the stage a 17 syllable page  just isn’t enough for what I feel I need to say

I only get one chance, that’s the other thing. With a haiku you’re supposed to be able to let it stew in your mind and marinade, reading it over and over waiting for the meaning to present itself to you. But I don’t have that right when talking tonight. You only get to hear these words once so I need to make it count, so. Once more with feeling:

I am out of time.