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Last night was Caffeine Corridor, for which I took a day off work. (My friend and co-worker MaryBell filled in for me.) The acrostic came while I was on the light rail going to the event; the poem came this morning.

Solving insomnia and equations too
A equals B and calm minus care sleep
Pills dissolve and become fluid octopi
Intelligent enough to add cortical goo
Even as the patient snores on the lanai
Neurons seek new paths to alter mood
Then Morpheus sees that non-hope dies

Are smart pills in the future? Of course they are. Let’s hope they aren’t bitter, or rebellious . . .

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I was talking about this just-written acrostic poem to my poet friend Victoria this morning. The word unmoor, I said, might not just mean take the rope or ropes off. It might also refer to making a swamp into an oasis.

Vic liked that but thought my readers could use a footnote or annotation or they might not get it. I said Nah, my readers are very smart–many smarter than I. They’ll get it.

Cacophony diminuendo

Heuristic’ly-arranged decor

A sport, e.g. a foot that’s se’en-toed

Oasis crisis heretofore

Solved elegantly. Swamped? Unmoor

 

 

Desperation has many flavors. A child of 13 learns she has new, unwished-for life inside her. A band of brothers and sisters shuffles for the last time out of a factory that is closing. An energetic person with a head full of ideas and plans is told there will be at most six months to do something about them. A man is lonely for a woman who no longer exists.

There is another desperation, one that is needed. When with clear eyes we see the severity and the complexity of the world’s troubles the desperate truth cooperate or die comes to light. Co-operate: operate together in the common cause of survival.

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Do not weep in public
Even if your stomach
Screams agoraphobia
Plastic bags and cancer
Entered the arena
Racing with malefic
Alacrity of intent
The ownership of conscience
Eliminates the easy answer

Friends, the next post will be #900. I hope to make it extra special . . .

Fatty, fatty, two-by-four,
Can’t get through the bathroom door.
Childhood taunt

 

I used that taunt more than once in my childhood. That is perhaps forgiveable. But well into adult life I made a cruel joke about a co-worker who had a wide and ample backside. “What’s the sound of [co-worker’s name] getting out of a bucket seat?” [Pause, then insert finger into mouth and make a popping noise pulling it out.] Shame on me.

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This post, then, is an oblique attempt at atonement. The illustration is a visual pun: a pair of scissors has been busy cutting remarks. The remarks are all fool-related. “There’s no fool like an old fool” is folk wisdom. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” is, according to STAR TREK’s Pavel Chekov, a Russian saying. “They are fools, who eat fugu. But those who do not eat fugu are also fools.” comes from Japan, and refers to a sushi of blowfish that, improperly prepared, will kill whosoever eats it.

The acrostic suffers from the need to put too much content into too few lines. Here are the words, un-acrosticized for better clarity:

cruelty verbalized can be a cancer
ugliness audible: dissing of grace
tap-dance on feelings then ho-hum the answer
sic transit gloria in mists of mace
whether or not we’ll exist to thank God
is anyone’s guess but i don’t like the odds

 

From here on in, I rag nobody.
Henry Wiggen in Mark Harris’s Bang the Drum Slowly

 

Plow a furrow through the skies

Land and taxi and eat linguini

And this marvel becomes humdrum

No more worthy of note than a good night’s sleep

Explorations turn to the metaphysical

And mere ballistics cannot compete

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Pour species has taken the tendency of electrons and the combustibility of certain substances to stratospheric heights, and most of us shrug . . .

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The 2016 Presidential election in these United States is the most important in American history. Heaven help us, we have two nakedly-ambitious candidates and a refreshing and visionary, yet big-odds-against, third. So I called upon all my acrostical skills to convey the embedded message: AMBITION FORCES US TO TAKE STOCK.

The words:

Rising AMBITION makes one thing so clear
Ideological FORCES adhere
Siphoning lifeblood and rubbing US raw
Sinking significance down TO a shwa
Knowledge of power can TAKE us so far
Kow-tow to no one and STOCK every shard

Finally, a humble request to the Great Undecided: Please vote for Bernie Sanders.

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I bought an ice-cream cone for my friend of 37 years, Donna Atkins Parella. Today is her hmmdee-hmmph birthday. Sadly, she’s not here, so I ate it in her honor. Donna Sue, I owe you one . . .

The acrostic was done on the platform, and then in one of the cars, of the Valley Metro Light Rail. When I was on the platform cars kept stopping in front of me, waiting for the light to change. Kimon Nicolaïdes once said “draw anything,” so I drew one of the cars. Then the not-quite-word “carlessness” came, I being a pedestrian, and the words obediently followed . . .

Chevy Impala was used to attain
ATTITUDE ALTITUDE though no jet plane
Recent additions have hybridish graces
Ramp up, pedestrians–off to the races