Friday, October 31, 2008

NO ONE

would say that the
Hippopotamus is
balding, for no one
hates a hippo,
but the hippo, he is
almost hairless.

If you were to
see a hippo with
a luxurious mane
of hair you would
probably wake up
because it would
have to be a dream.

Other possibilties:

You could stay asleep,
and watch him go
to the barber and
ask for a little ‘off
the top’ because he
is unusually vain
with his rich, luxurious
Fabio-like mane of
hair that you usually
don’t see on a hippo.

Or you could die in
your sleep and no one
would know that you
spent your last moments
in a zoo barber shop
kind of place bewildered
by something that was
frankly unusual, no one
would deny that if they
were with you and really
existed so that they could
live to tell the tale of your
dreams at others. I wish
that could happen.

Or

Are you actually
the kind of guy
that dreams about
hippopotamus?

Or girl?

(You could be a girl)

Or hippopotamae?

Or river horse?

Caught you. A river
horse IS a hippopotamus.
HIPPO: HORSE, POTOMUS,
RIVER. I am guessing, Greek.

Although that says more
about me than about you
or other even-toed ungulates–
for example, I like hippos
and water. And big, barrel-
chested big guys. Hippos.
I like hippos.

But I haven’t discovered
everything I want to know
about you and your dreams
for now, and also I am tickled
pink that they don’t kill
you. I like you.

Later I want more.

For instance: I would like
to know if you emerge
from the river at dusk
to graze on grass,
gaze a little at the sun,
and, if you do, sometimes
do you feel a little sad, and
almost extinct.

NATIVE AMERICAN BEES PARTOOK OF THIS SPECTACLE WITH GREAT CONSTERNATION

Did you know that when Columbus failed to find land, his sailors embarked upon a mutiny? It’s true. Luckily for us, Columbus soothed his crew with a gently flowing cascade of words that rolled out of his mouth like honey. And when they finally reached land, the words began to float in the air, very unhoney like, until they finally and slowly drifted to the ground, catching the slight currents that would hold them momentarily aloft as though they were suspended by little beeswax parachutes.

Nearby, Native American Bees partook of this spectacle with great consternation and no bemusement whatsoever.

Honey is a sacred thing.

But so is laughter.

To wit: there is nothing more funny than watching Milton Berle do his borscht belt schtick. A man wearing a housedress and lipstick and smoking a cigar? Hilarious, almost holy.

Laughter is sweet.

As is honey.

Laughter is less sweet than honey.

Laughter is approximately as sweet as a 3 Musketeers Bar.

Now, let us return to honey.

No. Let’s return to Columbus.

How did Columbus do it?

We'll never know.

The Kit Kat is the perfect bar. By every sense of the word there is nothing better at all. When you change a bar you run the risk of losing quality, and with the case of the Kit Kat Orange this is exactly what happened. The bar, although tasty, really takes away from the original Kit Kat taste. In fact the orange taste is so overwhelming you can't taste Kit Kat anymore. All it tastes like is orange chocolate with wafers. Part of the greatness of Kit Kat is the subtle taste of wafer, it's completely lost in this bar. If you like the Kit Kat, you might not like this at all.

"And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt
Would make me sad..."

–Merchant of Venice

A COMPLICATED WORLD

A UK standard 2 finger bar in 2008 packaging

* Kit Kat Original — (different taste & texture in different countries)
* Kit Kat Fine Dark — UK, Spain & Germany variant of Kit Kat Dark Chocolate
* Kit Kat Cacao 61% — Japan — newer version of Kit Kat Bitter with 61% cocoa content
* Kit Kat Sakura (Cherry blossom) — Japan —
* Kit Kat Cacao 72% — Japan — dark chocolate petits with 72% cocoa content
* Kit Kat White Creme — US permanent edition — current version of US Kit Kat White made with vegetable oil based candy coating rather than pure white chocolate
* Kit Kat White — Japan
* Kit Kat Iced Tea — Japan
* Kit Kat Caramel and Salt — Japan
* Kit Kat Kinako (soybean flour) — Japan
* Kit Kat Wa Guri (Chestnut flavour) — Japan
* Kit Kat Green Tea — Japan
* Kit Kat Milky White — Germany variant of Kit Kat White Chocolate
* Kit Kat Mint — UK permanent edition, US limited edition — mint flavoured milk chocolate coating
* Kit Kat Mint Chocolate — Australia — mint green colour wafers
* Kit Kat Apple — Japan
* Kit Kat Orange — UK permanent edition, US, Canada, Japan, Malaysia limited edition.
* Kit Kat International Recipe — Malaysia, Singapore and selected East Asian countries — The chocolate were made from Ghana cocoa beans thus having the tendencies to melt down very easily when compared to Kit Kat Original.
* Kit Kat Café Latte with Hokkaidō Milk — Japan
* Kit Kat Kiwifruit — Japan
* Kit Kat Strawberry — Japan
* Kit Kat Peach — Japan
* Kit Kat Caramac — UK
* Kit Kat Chocolate Overload — Australia — Milk Chocolate outside, chocolate creme filling and chocolate wafers
* Kit Kat Gold — Japan — petits with fudge like covering and dusted cocoa powder on outside
* Kit Kat Noisette (Hazelnut) — Germany
* Kit Kat Lite — India — two finger bar with 50% less sugar
* Kit Kat Carb Alternatives — US — low carb version with 50% less sugar carbs
* Kit Kat Low Carb — UK
* Kit Kat Cantaloupe; Japan
* Kit Kat Pineapple; South Africa
* Kit Kat Cappuccino; Poland
* Kit Kat Triple Berry; Japan
* Kit Kat Mango; Japan
* Kit Kat Azuki (Red Bean); Japan
* Kit Kat Green Grape Muscat; Japan[18]
* Kit Kat Caramel Macchiato; Japan (September 2008)[19]

[edit] Large single finger Chunky bars
Kit Kat Chunky
Kit Kat Chunky and Kit Kat Chunky Peanut Butter, as sold in the UK (September 2006)

* Kit Kat Chunky — UK, Canada, everywhere besides US, Japan , Hong Kong & India
* Kit Kat Big Kat — Japan & Hershey US version of Chunky
* Kit Kat Big Kat Bitter — Japan
* Kit Kat Black — Turkey — a dark chocolate chunky
* Kit Kat Big Break — UK — extra large Chunky bar
* Kit Kat Chunky M.A.X. (Maximum Appetite Xcitement) — Canada — another extra large Chunky bar
* Kit Kat Chunky White — limited or permanent edition in many different countries
* Kit Kat Cookie Dough — Australia
* Kit Kat Chunky Hazelnut Cream — Germany
* Kit Kat Honeycomb — Australia
* Kit Kat Caramel — US version of Kit Kat Chunky Caramel
* Kit Kat Chunky Caramel — Canada, Australia and UK
* Kit Kat Editions Golden Caramel — UK — same as Chunky Caramel
* Kit Kat Editions Caramel Dream — Germany — another Chunky Caramel
* Kit Kat Peanut butter — UK, Canada, Europe, Australia, — Chunky with peanut butter filling
* Kit Kat Editions Tiramisu — UK
* Kit Kat Extra Crispy — US — Chunky with a six layer wafer
* Kit Kat Strawberry; Australia and raises funds for the National Breast Cancer Foundation
* Kit Kat Cookies n Cream; Australia, released in August 2008.

[edit] Other Kit Kat forms and shapes

* Kit Kat Choc'n'Go — France — box of individually wrapped fingers
* Kit Kat Choc'n'Go Dark Choco — France limited edition — dark chocolate coating with caramelised cocoa pieces
* Kit Kat Delight — Italy
* Kit Kat Family Block — Australia — twelve finger family size bar
* Kit Kat Family Block Chocolate Overload — Australia
* Kit Kat I-Stick — Japan limited edition — Creamy bitter chocolate between wafers and dark chocolate coating — two stick format sold in cooler or freezer section of stores
* Kit Kat Stick — Japan — box of individually wrapped long Kit Kat fingers
* Kit Kat Stick Almond — Japan
* Kit Kat Stick Half Bitter — Japan
* Kit Kat Tablet — France — same as Kit Kat Family Block
* Kit Kat Ball — France — bag of round bite-size pieces
* Kit Kat Bites — US, Malaysia &, — similar to Kit Kat ball
* Kit Kat Little — Japan — newer version of Kit Kat Baby
* Kit Kat Pop Choc — UK, Germany, Poland — also identical to Kit Kat Ball
* Kit Kat Kubes — UK — square-shaped miniature pieces
* Kit Kat Chunky — The Netherlands — Bigger size Kit Kat Chunky
* Kit Kat Senses; UK hazelnut praline centred
* Kit Kat Chunky Duo; UK; A little larger than a Kit Kat Chunky Kingsize, and split into two separate bars.
* Kit Kat (Finger size) Almost half the size of a kit kat bar; Pakistan
* Kit Kat Watermelon Minis; Japan[18]
* Kit Kat Black Sugar Minis; Japan[18]

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

I like to think of my life as a very straight road that I am walking upon and not terribly quickly.

To my left are lemon trees–to my right, a field of corpses.

Please note that there are no lemons on the lemon trees.

How do I know that they are lemon trees? Better yet: how do I know that there are no lemons on them?

Can I not detect the natural vibrancy of lemons?

I am not walking terribly fast on this road. And to my right–the corpses do not smell at all.

How do I know that? Well, first of all, because the lemons don’t either, and so it would be easy enough to detect the smell of corpses if there was a smell, even if they smelled like lemons, and secondly, the corpses are alive–fussing and carrying on and winking.

You might wonder if they smell like lemons–natural, vibrant lemons. A reasonable question to ask.

But do not ask me: ask them. Quickly, before it is too late. Where am I and why? Everything says.

You’re killing me,
they say–but that’s no answer

On a road that I am walking, not terribly quickly, and so not so

Because I observer carefully (I don’t)
or that I absorb deeply (I can’t)
it’s just that I am afraid

Stop walking so quickly


Of what? Of the lion over my head plastered to the sky like a sweet ink transfer to a pastry. The movie is about to begin! Roar!

I stop to watch, which is easy–the wind picks up, the branches shake a little, everyone settles back and stops asking questions and closes their eyes towards the skies with a profound pleasure that involves all of us which we have yet to discuss.


all artwork, including handsome monsters but not crinkly devilish types,
® mr. crispy flotilla, 2008
a feather duster,
brer rabbit, popeye’s arms, a flashlight I had as a child which made things less scary for a while, and a trembling clam that I never ate, I really couldn’t eat it, like lobster which I couldn’t throw into a pot and the kitchen I always left before I could hear the lobsters trying to get out of the pot, all framed against a blue sunny sky somewhere in new england

Monday, October 27, 2008

As I thought back to what made me happiest today, it had to be this photograph. Just so you don't wonder about it, I will tell you–it's a screen saver for my computer. But WHAT a screen saver! I cannot tell where the sand ends and the water begins–if that is actually sand, and if that also is actually water. And the sky! It looks just like–a screen saver, but a really wonderful one. One that is as nice as this one-maybe even nicer.

Of course there is barely any horizon, either, just a wisp of black with a grey and white gradient. It almost reminds me of a man's hair turning white. White from grey, that is. I have never thought to ask anyone, but I wonder if watching your hair turn white, from grey, is uneventful. I imagine it must be.

Why do I love this so much? It can't be anything about old men shuffling around forgetting where they live and waiting to die. I think there is something food related that makes it so wonderful. It looks like tapioca, and that is a fact. Tapioca in a sea of unfathomable and infinite loneliness. Or maybe grey ice cream. I wonder which is worse: watching your hair turn white, a sea of loneliness, tapioca, waiting to die, or grey ice cream. I am glad that I don't have to decide.

By the way, this photo wasn't easy to find.

I looked everywhere for this picture in my computer, and here is what I found:

• a construction worker with overly large lips

• a sun and moon mask, with an expression of vague indifference, almost haughty, vanitieux

• an assortment of photographs of black and white grapes

• 'Nice and Sleazy' by the Stranglers. Now there's a nice song

Then I tried a better key word. 'Pier.' And then I found:

• Étude Aux Chemins De Fer–whatever the hell that is. It's not about shirts, though, that's for sure.

• A list of things to do, ten years old

• a poem about taxis

• and, for some reason, every rough draft of everything I have ever written.


Finally, though, I found this very photograph. I know I shouldn't, but I have been looking at it for hours. I know I have other things to do–One thing that comes to mind is that I have to find the perfect transparency of a sizing chart for kimonos to overlay on a photograph of a sad eyed girl in a burgundy backdrop, for example. More on that in a while. Maybe after a cigarette. I am thinking of taking up cigarettes. I can't help myself: this picture is that good!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

It makes me blush to write the word ‘Apollinaire’ on the page

He could write of lemon trees and acrobats without blushing

He made them more beautiful, writing at night,

looking at a candle,


Guillaume Apollinaire, 1903 sans mustache



wearing a funny hat and a mustache

All I want is for lemon trees to love me

All I want is lemon trees to love

I wish I didn’t have to say it

or worse yet, write it

If only I could just say “poof” and everything else would disappear

and all that would be left would be the scent of lemon

or the scent of a mustache

and the smell that isn’t there, that ‘afraid’ smell

if only I could substitute it with the stealth

of an afraid of nothing smell

a soft brown bushel filled with some kind of tange,

some kind of love

THE LAST LAUGH

An old man with a dignified mustache
as a doorman at an elegant hotel
and yet he has become too old to lift
those heavy suitcases so what happens?

He is demoted to washroom attendant dispensing
pristine hand towels to snooty hotel patrons

This is what I hate about the 1920’s!

All the jobs were depressing, black and white jobs
from all I have seen even if on such a day if a bluebird were

To alight on the old man’s epaulette and were to whisper
“I love you” in his ear it would not matter for the bluebird

Would be black not blue and the words “I love you”
so white so chaste so perfect and so needed right now
would ascend heavenly in a white word balloon that would
mingle and disappear into the opaquely white sky outside

Yes, outside Now the old depressed doorman is outside
trying, naturally, to find a cold 1920 river to jump in and drown

In, a lake where the goldfish are,
naturally, not gold, at all–
they’re grey

Saturday, October 18, 2008

BEING HERE ALONE TONIGHT WITH YOU

I have always admired the song HOLD ME TIGHT by the Beatles. I always thought it sounded like a sound from outer space, not really like the Beatles at all, and, even though it was from the '60's, it seemed more comfortable in the 50's that way, the way in which, in the '50's, so much was from outer space – not just Gamma Rays and Incredible Shrinking Men and Ray Harryhausen* and such but some of our best songs-like this one, and of course, I ONLY HAVE EYES FOR YOU. Now what is particularly interesting about HOLD ME TIGHT, though** is that it is almost impossible to distinguish what instruments are playing. Yes, they are all playing–but what are they? Certainly, there must be a guitar or two, a bass, some drums, some hand clapping, but they all wash together underneath a single voice like a giant wave of something music. Outer space something music, which I bet made people in 1964 nostalgic for 1957, although I doubt that ever happened then–1964 was too much fun. And when I say 'wave' – I really mean it. It's aquatic and oceanic and salty and all of that all at once. And when Paul McCartney, or whoever the person or thing is that sounds like him sings "Don't know / what it means to hold you tight" I believe him completely, although I would like to try to know what it means. Still, I think that the wave is so amazingly big that holding you tight must feel like drowning, in an ocean, somewhere in outer space.




* Some people believe that God gives you a choice of what you want to be when you grow up and some people think that this never ever happens. I do remember the story of one man, though, who said to God: "I can't decide–I want to either be hairy or I want to be a house." This really didn't make any sense but God was all powerful*** and made the best of it and then voilà–suddenly there he is: a full grown man with the great name of Ray Harryhausen and he is thinking about a dinosaur drawn to a lone lighthouse by its foghorn and how it would make a great movie, and it did, thanks to him, mostly.

** It's interesting that my two favorite songs from Outer Space were written and performed by animals: flamingos and beetles, well, Beatles, which I guess technically isn't an animal or many animals. Also interesting is that the third song that comes to mind wasn't written and performed by animals, but it was sung by Eric Burton, who I think was in the Animals, before he was, I believe, in War, which is kind of a stretch from Animals, but still, it was a lovely song, called SPILL THE WINE. Some woman sings something in it way in the background, very mysterious and sounding somewhat other planety.

***Still is

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

WWII (December, 1995)

l

hell in the pacific stars john wayne and toshiro mifune

it stars no others

as I think of john wayne, I think of no others, other than john wayne

he occupies all my thoughts

john wayne

I would rather be eating candy or making love

what is it about john wayne?

what is it about candy?

I know what is it about making love


ll


it is hell in the pacific

the water is too cold

there doesn't seem to be anyone around

and merely one island

a lot of water, again, its pretty icy

and there are only two of them

and one of them is john wayne

that's right

john wayne


**

Friday, October 10, 2008

SPENCE

SPENCER TRACY

looked so much
like his father
that I suddenly
realized that
Spencer Tracy
was his father!

It seems crazy,
but there’s an
easy explanation:

Spencer Tracy
never existed!

His father did,
though, and he

is a hard working
man – a good man –
a sad man –

He is lonely and
would like a son

He can’t decide
what he would
name him

He can’t imagine
what he would
look like

He picks up a
cigar, lights it

wonders about
his life, about love,

about
Spencer
Tracy

about all
these things,

and more–

that’s Spencer Tracy
‘s father

Sunday, October 05, 2008

COME SEE CRISPY

Please come see me (at 2:00) and a million other poetry reading people (all day long) and RSVP, too, just because I would like to know if you will be there so I will be ready to say hello and things.
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