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I post this image/poem despite huge worry about being misunderstood. It seems obvious to me that it is meant as anti-Trump political commentary, and meant to raise awareness of the criminally misleading messages Trump had for the citizens of the United States in the first crucial weeks of the US outbreak–but people are sick and dying EVERYWHERE, and this may seem insensitive. I regret that I find it necessary.

A friend my age has a nephew who informed him some days ago that the COVID-19 was referred to among millennials as “Boomer remover.” Since I was born in 1954, right in the thicket of Boomer births, that struck a nerve, then a chord, and this poem/image happened.

Heaven knows I wish this pandemic weren’t happening. Since it is, though, I’m determined to a) live through it, and b) not cause anyone to NOT live through it. Raising awareness via this card is a (howbeit remote) chance to help “flatten the curve.”

2020 0322 thin that herd

THIN That Herd

Typhus strep and tetanus all tend to dine & dash
Hepatitis C may choose to have much less panache
Influenza scleroderma–and a touch of choler
Nestles in our systems like an evil Michael Pollard

Last ironic note: The United States of America has been grappling with another issue of epidemic proportions: that of rampant obesity. A healthy and non-fatal way to “thin that herd” is with controlled, sensible weight loss. Tighten Your Belts,. Friends!!

 

20200321_105118

There’s a plan this evening for my former wife Joni and our daughter Kate to bring me a green corn tamale with green sauce from La Piñata, a restaurant we’ve frequented since last century.

Kate will knock on my apartment door. I will wait ten seconds, then open the door. Kate and I will wave to each other, and then she’ll get back in the car with Joni while I take the meal they brought me inside.

Until this crisis is over, we must be ultra-cautious. We want to stay alive.

And yet two weekends ago there was a barbecue in the South where no restrictions applied. And just yesterday law enforcement had to chase thousands off a Florida beach.

Americans have been badly misled by our 45th President, Donald Trump. His ill-chosen words–“new hoax!” among many–lulled the US into inaction at a crucial time. Yet he still feels entitled to point his finger at a journalist and say “You’re a terrible reporter” when the reporter invited him to say something to reassure the American people.

HE is terrible. He should not be President. He should be behind bars for, at the very least, reckless endangerment which is costing lives.

Mis Led

Megadeaths will seal the deal

If/Thens à la Jordan Peele

See us lack both Sword and Shield

Newer Opera Where Phenomenon Stone

NOW & later AMs & PMs
EPHemeral turns a PropHET
WEEkends meeken strips to RENO
ERRing earrings fall aNON
RAE‘ll rail on one phONE

2020 0301 newer

This is one of a handful of what I think of as a Hyper-Acrostic. Not only do the columns of letters spell meaningful words (or half-words in the case of PHENO MENON), but the letter groupings are meaningful words as well (to alchemize the one possible non-word, EPH, think of it as a variant spelling of the word Ef, which means the letter F, which often signifies Failure, and, this being an Ef that fails the spelling test, it’s suddenly all good.)

The gap between the column triads is filled with wordplay. Sometimes I think of myself as the shirt-tail heir to the wordsmithing mantle of James Joyce. If his spirit is still around and sentient, I hope that forays like these entertain him, or at least prove to him that his influence is still heavily felt by some. (Friend, if you’re confused and/or unfamiliar, please take a peek at any two pages of Joyce’s Finnegans Wake.)

I’m sometimes arrogant enough to imagine a poet AI of the future being entertained as well, seeing these “hyperacrostics” as feeble baby steps toward TRUE Poetry. (I will stake my wobbly poet’s reputation on the notion that sufficiently developed AI will be able to write poetry that makes anything ever theretofore written look crude and shabby. Humbling!)

The page-image is meant to be evocative both of the celestial and of the subatomic realm. In both aspects of Reality there are attraction, repulsion, and other interaction. There’s also a slight suggestion of Egg and Sperm, a visual pun of the word Conception.

You and I, Friend, are interacting right now, even if I’ve died before you read this. Isn’t that amazing?

2020 0228 amanda

Some time ago I had a try at capturing my admirable co-worker Amanda M. (Feel free to peruse the other 1500 entries in this blog to find it.) As the months passed my portrait attempt looked more and more like a misfire. Finally I couldn’t stand it any more and asked Amanda if I might try again. She was kind; I took another pic of her; I tried again with the result above, which is an attempt at Making Amanda Amends for that last botched effort.

I wouldn’t call this one successful, but it is less unsuccessful. The lighting is less harsh. The likeness is a half bubble off, but that is because I tried TOO hard and overworked it, so the heart is there.

Making Amanda Amends

Meet her & gain a fine sense of euphoria
Add Work-Commingling in with your Sensorium
Know a Professional Waldorf-Astoroia–be
Into the work tho the noise is stentorian
Nothing wrong with admiration if you understand
Gaining a new friend–a happy supplement to plans

2019 1229 dusty

Here we are at year’s end. And here is an acrostic poem that is both revelatory and cryptic.

Dusty & Left Alone/Trivial One

Duty-free & obsessed with Trivia
User friendly so Ell O Ell
Seeking Kindness & room & kibble–O
Tears of Shame may yet fill my well–in
Yearning Dreams there sleeps une Belle

2019 1118 terry irwin

In December of 1967 Terry Carter, my classmate, was at the school dance wearing a shimmery silver dress. We danced either once, twice, or three times–I have memory issues now. The important thing is, we danced.

J.R.R. Tolkien, author of THE LORD OF THE RINGS, also wrote “Smith of Wootten Major.” His protagonist, a blacksmith with an enchanted star on his brow, made a journey through the land of Faery. Along the way he met a delightful, young-yet-ageless woman who ended up dancing with him. Before they parted company she told him to convey a message to Alf the Prentice: “The time has come. Let him choose.” Only after Smith, also known as Starbrow, completed his journey and delivered the message did he learn with whom he had danced.

So it is with Terry, so similar to the Faery girl. She hides her light under a bushel. She would rather I didn’t sing her praises. Yet I must.

Terry Irwin

TERRIFIC as a pre-dawn’s Hi
ENGAGING as a 3rd-act Sigh–her
Righteous WISDOM’s clear–and how
Refreshing as is Maui–Wow–I
Y•o•d•e•l as she earns Renown

It’s been a long time since I posted, and I have many things that I’m working on, but nothing current suitable to publish. But going over REALLY OLD files, back in 2007 when I was doing Journal Pages faithfully every day, with not much regard for calligraphy but some for inked color, and I ran across this fable about a meet-cute with a short guitar-playing guy and a really tall girl…

2007 0922

I remember that I was using the finest-point pen I could find–might have been a Rollerball or a Razor–and a set of Faber-Castell ink markers for the color. I also had a thing about presenting the date a different way every day, sort of like Will Eisner did with his SPIRIT logos.

And I remember yearning.

Operations

Of music, sacred smiles, and nagging doubt:
Pitch-perfect was the Evening. And the Girl:
Enchanting, very tall, she was about
Revealing hidden Power. Glide, and Whirl,
Allay the fear a young heart has, of Breaking,
Tend to her own as well. She Bends. They Kiss.
In no time her in height he’s overtaking,
Obverted through the Atmosphere, he’ll miss
Near-Parity. He slides back down to Smaller,
Since their sould need no Height to make them Taller.