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This challenge came from the realization that the letters in the name Benito Mussolini divided evenly into three-character strings, and if a dot were added to the last one they would all be labelable, and it might be a worthwhile challenge to make the whole mess make sense and work.

(The dot isn’t really needed; an earlier “concept rough” included an illustration of the Isaac Newton Institute, in Cambridge. But .INI enabled the use of a dot as a period,  and therefore preservation of the rhyme scheme. In similar problem-solving fashion I’d previously exploited the diaeresis over the i in Anaïs Nin’s name to become two-thirds of an ellipsis in the acrostic.)

Long story a little longer: together again for the first time, we have Ben the rat from the movie bearing his name (and a young and relatively unwarped Michael Jackson singing the last line of the song, with Ben’s tail doing double-duty as the pointer of a word balloon; I’m absurdly proud of this visual pun); Lance Ito, the judge in the O.J. Simpson case; Mus musculus, the common mouse (the word Muscle is from this Latin word for Mouse); Sol Weinstein, comedy writer extraordinaire; and a closeup of an .INI (pronounced “innie” or “eeny”) file. .INI files, also and less confusingly known as initialization files, are bits of software that execute upon startup of the computer. Comment lines, which are ignored by the executable, begin with a semicolon.

Does it all make sense? To me it does, but then again, FINNEGANS WAKE made perfect sense to James Joyce, the rest of us not so much. I will say that this page is a tribute to the survival-triumph of the Jews past the Holocaust, among other things. The mouse and rat refer to Art Spiegelman’s Pulitzer-Prize-winning graphic novel MAUS, and derogatory drawings of Jews in Nazi Germany, respectively. Sol Weinstein, may he rest in peace, created Israel Bond, “Agent Oy Oy Seven,” among MANY, MANY other light-hearted, brilliant bits of schtick. I was saddened to learn of his passing when I looked for a photo source to do his portrait. And Lance Ito presided over a miscarriage of justice that still staggers me. (Don’t take my word for it. Read Vincent Bugliosi’s book on the subject, or ask Marilyn vos Savant, who’s listed in Guinness as “world’s highest IQ” and who’s called O.J. Simpson an “acquitted killer.”)

Here are the words to the quintuple acrostic:

Believe it or not, mice & rats can be fun. I
Enjoy how their startups are comically run
No rushes to judgment, no riots, no lie, just bagels & lox & a boxed Warr Shu Gai

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The page begins with the Quadratic Formula, which, in my younger and more phony-baloney days, I tried to impress my then-girlfriend, next-wife, the former Joni Froehling, by deriving, via the “completing the square” trick and other manipulation. She is no longer married to me, and who can blame her?

A masterful Valley of the Sun poet, Jed Allen, gave me a copy of his awe-inspiring chapbook THE FEAR OF ALGEBRA in appreciation of my reading of his poem “Zero Yard” at the Caffeine Corridor poetry event more than a year ago. Ever since, I have wanted to return the favor, and with this page I hope I have.

The words to the acrostic:

Attitude adjustments sometimes end up on a slab
Lose a Johnny Weismuller–or was it Buster Crabbe
Gain a Tarzan wannabe–a grey-stoked stufféd shirt
Err if you must on Caution’s side: man’s slaughter, shy of Murder
But in the diagram above as x is offed by a
Really not the culprit, who will always get away
Alias: The Solver, of manipulative manna
& a wealth of victims whose mystique is drowned in channel

The theme and meaning of the poem and its related ancillary material are left as an exercise for the student. Ironic hint: spelling out a solution murders Mystery. [enigmatic smile; fade to black]

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What is a lens? It is a light gatherer or scatterer. It may magnify, it may distort, it may correct. There is a shape of lens that can take ordinary sunlight and concentrate its heat. Do not look into the Sun using such a lens.

An unusually wise or prophetic person is sometimes called a Seer.

LENS KEEPER

Line may catch a break
Lovers oft forsake
Eye peers through a loupe
North of sea & sloop
Seek your vision where
Shards bemourn a pair

LENS KEPT

Like a crater or a yolk
Eyes have foci more than smoke
Needless is a bone or sop
Sight once born may too adopt

lens yens

light & way & TRUTH in synchrony
eyed the fraughtful destiny to be
notice of a loophole’s clearly taken
seed ye drama? here ye’ll find the makin’s

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We human beings must love rectangles. We make so many of them! Plate glass, envelopes, stamps on envelopes, sheets of paper to stuff in envelopes, cross-sections of containers, garage doors, non-garage doors, dominoes, playing cards, and on and on. Thinking outside the box is also thinking beyond the rectangle.

But rectangles, or near-rectangles, do occur in nature: cell formation, muscle striations, constellations, fault-slipped rock formations, and on and on. Some eye sockets are more rectangular than circular.

When I was a kid my mom collected S&H Green Stamps, filling in rectangular arrays with the rectangles-with-punched-out-semicircles of the stamps. When she turned them in for merchandise, it was a form of rectangle redemption; thus does my seemingly-random acrostic have some basis in fact.  But it’s a tenuous stretch. Luckily, when you stretch a rectangle, it remains a rectangle…

Here are the words:

Romance wears her nylons sheer
Eco-Friendly’s more austere
Creature comforts may be weird
Take an object choose a theme
Tell a truth that makes us beam
Any shape provides a step
Necessarily adept
Given one who wears a kepi
Leaps & bounds’ll come & go
Even-keelers use the known

 

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Here’s another ghost of journal pages past. I “remastered” my drawing from June 2008, effacing the poster-title-like date from the top of the page (long story as to why it was there in the first place) and colorizing it. The message is one I keep telling myself, though I’m still a young pup of 59:

Let’s applaud the Don’t Give Uppers
And the Singers for their Suppers
Taking Bows and Ripe Tomatoes
Ever striving for what Fate owes

Bandoleros may beset them
Losses–no time to regret them
Oven mitts for Hot Potatoes
Oldses drive you through Mankatos
Making lemonade from lemons
Easy garlands knit with stem ends
REAL success is pure Innateness
Some time may ALL know your greatness

As a fan of the late James Gandolfini, and whereas the above page was inspired by Edie Falco, I’ve just done a quick sketch of the man who made Tony Soprano stone-cold real to millions. I was pressed for time today, and did not give my subject the focused attention he deserves, and he died months ago, so perhaps this is too little, too late. But it’s something I hope is better than nothing.

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Even though there is no such word as Geckolalia, an Internet search revealed a definition in a WordPress blog called Practicing Noticing: “The tendency to repeat after lizards.” And the real word Echolalia means a tendency to repeat what has just been said. To repeat what has just been said. To repeat–you get the point.

In the Valley of the Sun, in residential areas, geckos often make a successful living hanging out at front porches, snagging small bugs and looking cute with their nictitating eyelids seeming to extend to their entire pinkish bodies. They have sticky or suctiony toepads that enable them to stick to walls and even ceilings. They seem a little not-of-this-earth and magical.

The acrostic may work as an extended metaphor for creatures who hunt prey and avoid being prey themselves by being hidden in plain sight. The end letters demanded, as they so often do, unconventional rhyming words. Does A rhyme with I? No, but Flea rhymes with III (Three).

Here are the words:

Goshawks gawk from angles aerial
Eyes for detail small as flea
Ceiling clingers dodge a burial
Kestrels clueless: Stooges III
Out unbugging sand verbena
Others hunt in prey’s arena

 

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Some time in the late 70s my great-Aunt Zilpha, now deceased but then living in the tiny upstate New York community of Oxford, gave me a softcover book entitled Franck Taylor Bowers 1875-1932. The cover of the book, a photographic self-portrait of the artist, is the main photo source for my image. Thank Goodness his first name had its peculiar spelling. It makes him a perfect triple acrostic.

Franck was no N.C. Wyeth, but he was good enough for Binghamton, New York, where a retrospective of his work was displayed in 1977, becoming the basis for the book Aunt Zilpha gave me. An Internet search reveals that his father, LaMont Bowers, a financial advisor for John D. Rockefeller, Jr., may have had something to do with the Ludlow Massacre, a shameful episode in the history of American labor relations. Tsk tsk on him if so, and tsk tsk on him for saddling Franck with family business obligations (anchors and other ancillaries) when Franck could have been painting his way to greatness. Instead, eight years of his life was misspent on anchors and invoices.

Franck died of aplastic anemia four days after his 57th birthday, so I have outlived him by two years and counting. He did some nice drawings and paintings, some of which are findable via Internet search. It would make my day if someone reading this honored his memory by checking out some of his images.

The words:

FLAWLESS execution with a pen or pencil nub
Raw sienna add cerulean to brush or rub–go
Anywhichway & pursue your muse w/ebb & flow
Nobody sincere is selling you a line to toe
Continental voyages took dilettante to doer
Kept an artist-voyager alive and new toujours

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A few weeks ago I had the privilege of hearing a father & daughter duet on ukulele and harmonica. The gentleman is 92 years young. The lady has been my friend for more than twenty years.

The words:

Daughter & Dad blow harp & pick
It is Magic but it ain’t no trick–a
Cat’s meow in a reedy blur
Keeping time that is loose yet sure
& Dad & Daughter’s musical fun
& games: years long yet new-begun

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Cats are bloodthirsty and duplicitous. They will disembowel their played-with prey without a care, and five minutes later act the innocent in your lap, their purr-motor set to Lull. But you gotta love ’em.

My friend and fellow blogger Michel Lamontagne once praised my predacious-cat drawings, and so I hope he likes this one; it might not have happened but for his kindly comment.

The words:

Penelope June also answered to Peej
Uganda D. Mouser was fond of the bijou
Rough Justice was dealt twixt boudoir & foyer
Remains to be seen? Maybe so–not today