I can I think, I think I can
I have not come to think
I think I think
Or if I thought a thought
I can’t say for sure
Be sure that I did think
Or think that I did not
Not thinking about thinking
Or thinking about not thinking.
But if I thought out how to think
Then I think I could think
All my thoughts.
Yes, I bet I can think all my thoughts.
But do thoughts only thrive upon other thoughts?
I might think yes
I might think not
If yes, where can I find the primordial one
To continue to think
And think to continue
My other thoughts upon.
I think I think
Or if I thought a thought
I can’t say for sure
Be sure that I did think
Or think that I did not
Not thinking about thinking
Or thinking about not thinking.
But if I thought out how to think
Then I think I could think
All my thoughts.
Yes, I bet I can think all my thoughts.
But do thoughts only thrive upon other thoughts?
I might think yes
I might think not
If yes, where can I find the primordial one
To continue to think
And think to continue
My other thoughts upon.
This was so pleasant to read, Hadassah! There are moments that threw me back to my old Dr. Seuss days, in the way the words are repetitive but also oddly contemplative at times. Because of that, the two longest lines stood out to me in a slightly jarring ways ("But do thoughts . . ." and the word "primordial"). It's not exactly bad, though, and I wonder what other people thought about those lines. Regardless, my favorite part of this poem is the way it feels on my tongue.
ReplyDeleteWhat strikes me most about this poem is how it is pretty wild in terms of playing with language conventions, yet, at the same time, the poem is quite pleasing musically. It's rather that an experimental poem also feels musically pleasing, and I can only think of a few poets who write this way: Gertrude Stein, e. e. cummings, and some newer poets like Michael Palmer.
ReplyDeleteWas this written after reading some poems by Stein? That would not surprise me. If it isn't written with her somewhat in mind, then it's remarkable how well you've managed to echo some of her work.
At the core of this poem is the urge for language to have some kind of grounding for its meaning, as expressed in lines like this one: "If yes, where can I find the primordial one."
One could also read this poem in the context of language theory. There is a French theorist named Derrida, who argued powerfully that all meaning is based on deferral of meaning to other words, which is in term deferred to other words, etc, in a seemingly never-ending pattern. From this Derrida derives the argument that ultimately there is no real basis for the meaning of words, except other words, and he recommend we accept this and adjust our writing to it. This poem seems to reflect that linguistic view and to register discomfort at the idea that we may not have a "primordial" word or thought that forms the reliable basis for all others.
It's cool that such a rich context is indicated playfully in such a short, musical poem.
This was so playful! I love the way that you played with repetition of words. It was very fun to read aloud.
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