On "Less is More"

The best advice

I’ve heard is leave them

wanting more.

As a result, my poems from

here on in

will be abrupt. Succinct.

Truncated like a

Tolstoy in haiku.

No more spiels of

generations.

Why my grandma

made two collops

of her wrists while

slicing cabbage. How she

always said cahbahj,

mocked throughout the

village as a dolt.

As for how that story

closes, well, you’ll have to guess

it on your own. It seems

no one has the time for

that these days. Whether

or not I’ll follow

in her footprints.

Buy a paring knife on sale

at Dollarama—

a Five-and-Dime

back then. Do what she did

when she did. I mean, calling

something by

a funny name. Pronouncing

it in blood,

or blewd she used to grin

when no one looked.

Andreas Gripp

August 30, 2025

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