May the world not end.

May the killers go sane.

May the unworthy and wicked be stripped of the power that they wield.

May children enjoy their childhoods.

May good weather more than make up for bad.

May we choose not to fight.

May we find worthwhile uses for our time.

May we seek understanding, justice, and grace.

In the name and at the helm Universe of which we are an essential element, may Kindness and Reason prevail.

the goat solves differential equations

at the drop of a tin can

which he then eats.

..

he is the brainchild

of a biologist turned computer scientist

who long ago read “think blue, count two.”

..

the goat has a wireless print peripheral

and a tireless creativity which in two days

schematicized a mireless swamp,

..

and he takes no pay save a pasture full

of semismart nanny goats with whom he can make

a small nation of brilliant, peripheralized kids.

..

alas, he has learned

that a stupidly misguided government

wants to appropriate him, his wives, and his progeny.

..

the government sees him and his

as weapons of conquest, ideal spies,

and manipulable dupes.

..

alas for humanity, for the goat,

with some influence from “seventy years of decpop”

and galápagos and the day of the dolphin,

..

has conceived and is schematicizing

a nifty, subversive means of reducing humans

to a single village of idiots.

Carbo Protein Fat & Dairy

Clown may wax incendiary

Clown may wax inflammatory

“He’s just joking” is the story

..

Baby-Toddler-Youth transition

Clown may speak of acquisition

“I want Greenland I want Cuba”

Backed by an oomph-oomphing tuba

..

Clown kills innocent civilians

Maybe next will be Brazilians

War may visit on our nation

Many-fold retaliation

..

Crypto coinage trading cards

Ill-got fortune thus enlards

One-percenters double money–

This a joke? IT ISN’T FUNNY.

soul full ness

long ago I read The Lady Who Sailed the Soul

by Cordwainer Smith (secret identity Paul Myron

Anthony Linebarger), about a woman who had a

starship across a vast distance while her c o n

s c I o u s n e s s was slowed so that it seemed to

her her hair gushed out of her head.

later he began “Himself in Anachron”

but died before he finished. an artificial intelligence

just told me it is about a man who must save his wife

by divorcing himself from time and space,

in the sacrificial sense similar

to “The Lady Who Sailed the Soul.”

the author and editor Harlan Ellison went to some

length to acquire “Himself in Anachron” for the third

volume of his Dangerous Visions trilogy. his effort

was in vain.

today i walked two miles to see the west Toledo

library for the first time. I perused the science fiction

shelves and found Tommy dismay that they had NO

Poul Anderson books, NO Isaac Asimov. But they had

a single volume of Harlan Ellison, copyright 2014:

The Top of the Volcano, a compilation of Ellison

stories that had won awards.

i had read most of them but there was a long story

i had not. in it a man named bailey

had his soul yanked from him to be placed

into the soul of an alien military subaltern named

Pinke, there to cajole Pinke into ending a war that

had gone on for generations.

i have not finished the story. I will leave that

for another visit. rather, now, i reflect on the amazing

succession of life-events: i read Cordwainer Smith,

his story was covered by Harlan Ellison, i found the

Ellison book in the West Toledo Public Library, and

I began to read his story of the abduction and

exploitation of souls…

three weeks to the day

after having arrived in Toledo

from Phoenix, Arizona

in the company of my sweetheart

in an automobile of make Kia,

model

Soul.

Late this evening I completed a draft of the two acrostic poems on this page. I also embellished the textual elements and did more drawing within the two half-moons.

King& Queen

Kumquats @ a B•B•Q

If you mist it — c’est perdu

Now sweet breezes intervene

Getting shut of airs obscene

& reventing shit up spleen

..

Mana Wife

Many woes beset us now

As our land resists the plow. I

Need you, dear. Help me un-oaf

As we ask our soles to Loafe

..

These are drafts. More stages coming soon!

Captured 21 July 2026

Day after day I’ve told my sweetheart Donna, “I have got to draw today.” And yet I didn’t and didn’t.

Today is different. Marvelously so. I have the above Work In Progress well under way, and pleasant surprises abound with it, and I have high hopes for it. The “King& Queen” acrostic’s rhyme scheme has been solved, rhyming BBQ with C’est Perdu (schoolboy French to the rescue again!) and the first line establishes a bizarre matchup.

Much needs to begin, but as Mary Poppins tells us, “Well Begun is Half Done.”

Cheers, my friends!!

shaving techniques of the corrugated-skin american: haibun

complications ensue when an american male’s facial flesh ages and he wishes to be clean-shaven. many hairs that were softly pliable in the springtime of youth have become thicker and tougher in their dotage. they are anchored in skinfold that was once smooth hillside. the hide of the old american’s face must needs be stretched into tympanic tightness for effectual shaving to occur; and the stretch must often be not merely with fingers, but perhaps over sawhorse-planked teeth, compressed cheek-air, or even tongue-poke for that mutant milkweed of a follicle that so stubbornly resists shearing.

over decades, standards of the american facial æsthetic have shifted. in the mid 1980s it became popular to always look as if a shave had not occurred for several days. this was due to the star quality of mr. don johnson, one of two male leads in the hit series miami vice. but in 2020s america foliagiality is more complex. baseball pitchers, once facially bald as eggs, may now be found with anything from pencil moustaches to old-testament-patriarchy on their young faces.

an old man has just realized that he is able to shave with the grain of his beardstubble and still look as if he recently shaved. today he has done this for the second day in a row, and confirmed that this technique reduces nicks and cuts to zero.

in times uncertain

let us draw the act-ending curtain

on self-harm.

A Pedestrian in Toledo Walks Past a House

North of Sylvania west of Bowen

In Toledo predawn a pedestrian sees a house

Bunting is draped in front of the front porch

A week after Independence Day

The house glows near both front and side doors

The upstairs lights are out

The pedestrian pulls his phone from his pocket

And uses it to record an image of the house

Simple photoediting tools add magic to the light

Adherence to the rule of thirds guides cropping

The pedestrian/photographer/poet/publisher finishes

Suspending judgment, he wishes the household well

weed woe

the unjunglization of a back yard in toledo

ohio will now commence

and the association with purgatory become

particularly dense

as two souls in their seventies take on

this onerous task

the bitter fluid of drudgery is served

in an earthenware flask

fat hours

sunday 7:53 am edt

sun way up

weeds tall in the back

coffee unbrewed

..

in the fat hours

fate fatigue fatality fata morgana loom

inertia stuns the leanhearted

as the hours fatten yet more