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Once upon a time, when the American Film Institute was honoring Jack Nicholson’s lifetime of cavorting, Dustin Hoffman took the lectern and advised Jack to “be drunken.” He was quoting a French poet, Apollinaire I think but am not sure. It’s on YouTube if you’re curious, but be warned: you may be sucked in and watch hours of actors teeing off on each other.

Anyway-I mean Unsober in the life-inebriant sense. You don’t need Chianti for that but I did need its K sound for the poem.

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Uncork & now sing a Calypso

New bodies now ride the ecliptic

Some zombies have crept from the crypt

O let us now toast with Chianti omnipotent super dog Krypto

Beseme mucho with lip-lock & -throb

Eat husk-roasted ye Corn on ye Cobbe

Rouse ye the rabble the drabness to clobber

 

SEPT: A group believing itself derived from a common ancestor.
EMBER: A small piece of wood or burning coal in a dying fire.

OCTO: Prefix for Eight.
BE: Exist.
R: The interjectory noise a pirate makes.

September Songlet

The good September’s here, but not to last.

October waxes as September wanes.

Be both of that as may and as has passed

Each year brings her September labor pains.

Ectopic pregnancies, some: touch and go.

October in September’s womb grows huge.

Rough gusts presage the broken waterflow

Now whirling in gestation’s centrifuge.

October pushes through September’s tissue

Through gauze as underlies a cap and gown

Through portalled Time which adds her to her issue

Out in to Real, with scarcely time to crown.

But some September echoes still resound

Echoic of the Fall of Grace she’d ground.

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