I’m sure you agree that any sensible person would conclude that you and i both know that etc.

I’m not a poet, i can’t write, and i don’t have any real pretensions (ha!) in that direction. But the idea of Concrete Poetry has throttled my imagination. Whilst i’m sitting, waiting, i have written this. I’m not really sure what it is, but it’s not revised or overthought, and the feeling of the words, their meaning and their arrangement being at the centre is intact.

It’s quite cynical, i suppose.

In many of my conversations, submissions from each participant to which they ascribe the most importance are often appended with a posed question for the sole purpose of gaining approval. This approval is tacit agreement to the concept or argument being made, and therefore currency that can redeemed further on. Crudely visualised above is one such conversation; a familliar symbol forming a column from which each conversant’s words ‘hang’.

As the number of questions grows, so does the column, its instability becoming more obvious to the participants and the decision to hang another more perilous. Eventually a participant must concede, deeming the column’s teetering and swaying under the weight of such desperate, jealous, transparent narcissism too unpredictable to risk adding yet another question.

At this point, the column is set aside, the currency counted and the next conversation begins.