Monday, March 31, 2008


1) He did not do it with his feet, his dancing feet, for he did not dance.

“I do not dance!” said his dancing feet. Please make a strike through in “dance” and underscore “do not.” Which you are at it, put “I” in italics, and put all of the words in bold face print.

Use 24 pt Garamond Roman font for all and print on 25% cotton rag text.

His feet did not dance. His words danced. “It is they who dance!” exclaimed his feet, pointing at his mouth, from whence his words found spake. They pronounced it with glee, and would have danced a cha cha in happiness, but you cannot point and dance, particularly if you are pointing with your dancing feet which do not dance. No, that would be impossible. Now, let’s have a lemonade.

2) NOW

Recently I wrote a short poem which ended with the words: “Now, let’s have a lemonade.” As I read the poem again and again, I eliminated, slowly but surely, every line of the poem until I was left with “...let’s have a lemonade.” I liked that: I felt that I would look back upon this poem one day and think, “That is truly what I felt, and that is truly all I felt. The rest can go to the Devil!”

Go To The Devil. Just like they used to say in the old movies.

But it’s not over yet. What can I title this poem? For I have run out of truthful feelings. I eliminated them one by one. I have nowhere to go. I don’t want to go to the Devil. And all I have is lemonade. But I don't even have that.

I am lost.

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