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My poor and darling Denise has sustained a spiral fracture of her leftmost metatarsal. Earlier this week I tried giving her some relief by supporting the weight of her lower leg with mine. It was not all that successful, relief-wise, but proved usable fodder for journal-paging, especially since I occasionally update my Facebook status with “Further Adventures of Denise and Gary.”

Words:

brace for impact fragile lamb
Ouch is YES and Ah is no
keen with pain & shout with Damn
Now there’s bruising toe to toe

Note that there’s a bit of poetic license here. Denise does not “keen with pain.” She is quite the trouper, bearing great pain with little outward reaction. I on the other hand am a Big Baby. I yelp, holler, whine, scream, and cry at the slightest provocation.

What did I mean by “ten-A-cious”? Look carefully at the lettering descriptive of our extremities and you will find a column of the letter A, ten deep.

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Readers of the last blog post will recall that I tried, and did not quite succeed, to capture my friend and fellow poet Bob Kabchef’s visage on paper. As a portraitist, when I misfire I have a choice: move on, or get back on the horse and try again. It is ALWAYS better to try again, though fear of repeated failure hangs like a wet-sodden cloud over the fragile-egoed creator’s head.

Here is my second try, with a double acrostic inspired by something Bob posted, seeing an early draft of it: “Speaking of chefs….. A lot of folks hesitate when confronted with the challenge of saying my last name – Kabchef. It’s not really that tough. Just think “Cab” and “Chef” Now say them together and you’ve got it. I sometimes tell folks that if TaxiCook is any easier for them, I’ll answer to that too. When my grandad came here to escape WWI, immigration whittled down Kabachieff to Kabchef. We Kabchefs don’t have a fancy Coat of Arms. We’re so poor, our coats don’t even HAVE arms.” That gave me a grin, and “Taxi Cook” it was. The words:

The nations are assembled choc-a-bloc
And Poets wrestle with the Despot–so
Xerography’s recorded–ONE Li Po
Is worth a thousand Xerxes who would mock

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Here is a not-quite-successful go at capturing the face of a Facebook friend of mine, at his request. His real jaw is much less like Mussolini’s, and there is enough inaccuracy in this and that detail to make me want to try, try again. I will some fine day. Meanwhile you might find more of the man in the words than the draughtsmanship.

On the left is an acrostic of his name, and on the right an acrostic of “Arcade,” his nom de guerre.

Bob Kabchef words:

Bashful? Ha! Give us a break
Belly up and Studebake–a
Oneness with a fruited shrub
O Citrus like a mint vee-dub
Belemonliming every branch
But will Lime Stanley do Lime Blanche
Brusque and wise and nowise bluff
Bravos due his Righteous Stuff

Arcade words:

Ask for an arena
Roped and carabinered
Catch a pirate’s scene here

 

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Armistice words:

Across the world, conflict’s rife
Riots, war–devalued life.
Mission: Vengeance–plan: Survival
Instant Grievance–woes archival.
Sighing on
The Widow’s Walk
In despair, the Loved Ones knock
Cautiously on doors with Hope
Ever seeking Peace with Scope

Soldiery words:

Sacrifice and valor
Often lead to death
Lose a son or pal, or
Dad–tears wrack your breath
It’s a tragic thing, yet
Every age has Fallen
Rights and Freedom we get,
Yes, and Grief to haul in.

 

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Here are two poems, calligraphed and lightly illustrated, that I wrote in response to challenges posed in a Facebook poet’s group I belong to. One challenge was to write a poem using a title that was provided. The other challenge was to demonstrate or evoke an emotion; bonus points were given for not telling the reader what the emotion was, and the reader being able to tell.

A “twofer” challenge for you who read this: which poem goes with which challenge? and which emotion is demonstrated?

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Who are these guys? Classmates at Glendale High School. Then I was Steve’s classmate at Glendale Community College. Then I was Tom’s classmate at the University of Arizona. Then I was best man at Steve’s wedding. Then Tom was best man at my wedding, and Steve was the official photographer and videographer, insisting that he not be paid.

They have both gotten me out of a jam. They have both seen me at my worst, with the Gambling Monkey on my back. They’ve both been the best friends money can’t buy. And they both just celebrated their birthday on August the Second.

I love Steve and Tom. Life would be much bleaker without them, though we’ve all three of us faded into the background from time to time. Here’s to them:

STEADFAST buddies are the best
Two such do my life well Bless
Ever Friends Indeed when I
Ventured out of realms benign
Even with a Vortex swirling both of them have proven Sterling

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Medieval to Modern & tin to iridium
Evolvement takes choices & acts to ignite
Perhaps Good & Evil are more than a construct
Have KA to personify Desiderata
In meeting the challenge of Climb-To-the-Top
Some hands may be gript in an Evil one’s clutch
The pilgrim might Shake become timid let go
or grab at a chance for the conquest of fear

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I hope to finish this well, and well before the end of the month. I have read MR’s Life Is Too Short, and I’ve just heard about a documentary about elder abuse that features the sad story of his latter life, Last Will and Embezzlement. I think I will need to see the documentary to properly inform the page, since I’m going to draw a current-as-possible him above the “Rooney” on the right.

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I may well just sign this page and be done with it, but that’s because the task of summing up Loretta Young’s bizarre life is so intimidating. Did you know, O Reader, that she had Clark Gable’s child? I didn’t till just this week, though I saw her descend a staircase several times when I was a little kid.

The post is called “Mephisto, Mickey, and Sweet Loretta” because it sounded peppy and it reminded me of Neil Young’s “Marlon Brando, Pocahontas and Me.” The “Sweet Loretta” part owes its existence to a line in “Get Back” by the Beatles. (And Loretta Young was sweet sometimes…)

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Here I imagine the eponymous flowers with a mist of free-floating memories, hard to see but there.

Words to the triple acrostic:

FORMERLY: meant something then
O so BE IT: means Amen
Recently I dreamed an auto
Got a winning numbered Lotto
Ending strife without complaint
Takes an easy-tempered saint

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So there were Loretta Young and John Larroquette, minding their own business, when along I come and transvestize them, because I noticed that slight changes to their last names would do the trick. I hope they and/or their spirits mind less about that than I did when it was done to me. (A female so-called friend of mine put my head on a “princess” body as an action figure in a video game. I have forgiven her, but there was a rift. Guess I’m not, or was not, all that secure in my masculinity…?)

Quoth Bob Dylan, in “Things Have Changed”:

Gonna take dancing lessons, do the jitterbug rag
Ain’t no shortcuts, gonna dress in drag
Only a fool in here would think he’s got anything to prove…

And of course there are J. Edgar Hoover and Muammar Gaddafi and David Bowie and Marlene Dietrich and heart-stopping mustachioed Gwyneth Paltrow and certain of my widening circle of friends who hail from San Diego…

As for Alcoholism, John Larroquette is more than 30 years sober, and the closest Loretta Young came to it was falling for Spencer Tracy. But I tip my tipsy-hat to my grandfather with the line “Booze O Booze you’ve been my guess” because he was found of declaiming

Booze, O Booze, you’ve been my guest
You’ve often made me lose my rest
You’ve often made me wear old clothes
But since you are so near my nose
I’ll drink you down–and down she goes.

Here are, with some annotation, the two sets of words to the two double acrostics:

Gender Bender

Gum-fill the Cup & with a hepfull Dweeb
Enjoin the maiding habits of the grebe
Nun of above belowdex app’d to swoon
Divining Atlas’d Cloudscape for your wound
Enlightingsource may seize [or cease] us to revere
Raw-skulled NICK of the NITE-MITE bring us Cheer

Line One is a riff on Omar Khayyam’s “Come, fill the Cup, and in the light of Spring…” Line Four is an oblique hommage to the movie version of Cloud Atlas and its gender-reassigned co-creator Lana (formerly Larry) Wachowski. Line Six has, I trust, the worst-yet pun based on Raskolnikov.

Line Five has a quantum split in it, depending on whether you choose “Seize” or “Cease.” This is what comes of watching dozens of episodes of FRINGE.

Bender Sender

Booze O Booze you’ve been my guess
Engendering devolv’d finesse
Nun of above avail to moon
Deciduously treed and goon’d
Erelong we’ll be hung over here
Regaining thirst of pitchered Beer

Note the similarity of Line Three to Line Three of “Gender Bender.” Like the rug in THE BIG LEBOWSKI, it sort of “ties the room together.”

“Moon” in Line Three, and “Hung over” in Line Five, are meaning-optional.