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“Whence Came We? What Are We? Whither Go We?” –Title to one of Paul Gauguin’s most mysterious paintings

about four thousand days ago

plus or minus an order of magnitude or two

there was a great local flood

and people have remembered it in myths

because myths inspire and drive us

(just ask tolkien or campbell)

..

meanwhile it is with great sadness that we note

that just this week raw tragedy occurred

two deaths

a father and mother done in by a berserker son

and all kinds of wounds are fresh

in millions of souls

wounds inflicted by the stark wrongness

of loving parents slain

by a son who would not be helped

..

surely new myths are already being wrought

because we like stories

and what a story premise we have here

but the problem with myths

is that they act as baffles to understanding

they act to mislead us from wisdom

..

now it is especially important

for us to discard our love for a juicy narrative

and try to arrive at understanding of this nihilistic act

and with that understanding

however minuscule

arrive at a means of coping

..

gilgamesh of legend

survivor of the flood

is gone

if he ever was here

and make-believe is good for some things

horrendous for others

whirrd

“The right word is the unexpected word.” Frederik Pohl, introducing The Best of Cordwainer Smith

three caffeines and i am wired/good to go no longer tired/let my wordsmith’s finger wield/this touch-sensitivish field

word be whirrd near-homophonic/aspirate that aitch atonic/ascertain a certain smuggish/air when jazzed-up coffee-muggish

tighten up those loosish ens/comically let’s be frenz¹/tragic cali mourn our bros²

we may see them

no one noes

..

¹Ron Frenz. “Ronald Wade ‘Ron’ Frenz (born February 1, 1960) is an American comics artist known for his work for Marvel Comics. He is well known for his 1980s work on The Amazing Spider-Man, particularly introducing the hero’s black costume, and later for his work on Spider-Girl and Thor…” Wikipedia

²Along with my nuclear family, I have lost brotherly cousins of the Householder clan who lived in California.

a baby sobs uncontrollably after unrequited hunger or hurtful startlement smite her.

a young lover sobs unrelievedly in the face of permanent, preventable, hormone-driven loss.

a soldier sobs for the rest of his life, haunted by the phantasms of life-changing mayhem.

ah, but the ocean throbs and sobs with the orphaning of her children and the unsustainable slaughterhouse her depths have become, and she weeps more tears than ever humanity has.

let us not sob for that. let us atone.

20190825_065514

What happened again? Senseless violence birthed by hatred. To whom did it happen? It happened to daughters, mothers, fathers, and sons. Will it happen yet again? Most likely–but it depends on us.

“Onus” divides neatly into “On us.”

001

Here is the first page I’ve done since I moved to my new place. Much of it was done on the drawing table sketched in lower left. I do so feel more at Home, using my table.

The three acrostic takes on Home come from my recent move, my years of weight struggle, the tragedy in Orlando for which flags are now being flown half-mast, and that grab-bag feeling one gets when a lot is happening at once. But, for once, this page is not a dashed-off, gottagetitdone thing. I spent three days on it, and I hope it shows.


Awry Left Home

Avoirdupois and sleekness match
When you’ve a KEY and not a latch
O running Wafflers may make scream
Yet Value’s not in Hits nor Meme

away from home

a child lifts a stufféd pooh
whilst parents wonder what to do
as youngsters out for fun take aim
you need a someone whom to blame

Well Come Home

We go and cause the world to laugh
Enjoying Moo-Cow and Giraffe
O Laughter is a Marvel! I’m
Laugh-loutish till the end of TIME

. . . my own personal time, that is. “Steel in my heart, and laughter in my breast!” quoth Rostand’s Cyrano. 🙂

The late Martin L. Stoneman loved comedy and tragedy masks. On the offchance that his consciousness is still attentive to the Earthly folk he left behind, I did these for his possible entertainment. He well knew that Life is never as cut and dried as comedy Here and tragedy There. Now, “if the accident will,” he has that illustrated.

001

Image

This page has an odd provenance: I’d just eaten French toast. There was a puddle of butter/syrup on the plate. A bagel was available to sop it up (Goodness GRACIOUS, what a Glutton), but the puddle didn’t want to cooperate. Then I remembered that magic of physics known as Capillary Action, and set two bagel-quarters inside-down and waited; lo, they did absorb. This led me to read up on Capillary Action via Wikipedia, and that led to lacrimal ducts, and acrostic compulsion led to Lacrimal Ductwork.

The acrostic defies pure rhyming, but the first thing that occurred to me was that “you” rhymes with the “goût” of the French expression “chacun à son goût,” which may be translated to “each to his own.” Then the first line sprang to be, but the third line could only be near-rhymed, and, Heaven help me, I could not resist trying “hermaphroditic.” This led to thinking about how Man’s Inhumanity to Man might be cured with androgyny (anyone under forty read THE LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS by Ursula K. LeGuin?), and then the poem pushed me aside completely and wrote itself.

Here are the words:

LIQUIDITY may not need Liquid
And TRAGEDY may not need U
CAUSALITY’s hermaphroditic
RIGHTEOUS? Chacun à son goût.
IDEALLY we’d never kow-tow
MISANTHROPY makes us so do
ANDROGYNY’s a higher power
LUCIDITY unkinks a Kook

I don’t think it’s too much a stretch to relate all this to Lacrimal Ductwork, which involves Crying.