Heavily punctuated - hyphen
to embellish poetically
with bracing circumspection,
I markedly exclaim (parenthetically)
cumulative elapsed LXIII obits
around the nearest star
dashed by at lightspeed,
and quoting James Thurber
storied fiction titled
My Life and Hard Times,
me a period study courtesy Paul Sachs
(in concert with Elba Dorley)

diagnosed as Schizoid Personality Disorder
while thus far unnamed subject
felt his existence [bracketed]
courtesy profound social anxiety period,
but he (a long haired pencil necked geek)
did experience millstones
wrought and rung around his collar
described in his divine
comma dee of errors
elaborated within condensed and abbreviated 
Harris (apostrophe after the esse)
chronicles presented below.

Paramount pictures presents
the Harris' chronicles.

Gratitude suffused LXIII old smart aleck
additionally modesty, nobility (ha)
and opportunity to interject good humor
when/wherever possible.

He (Matthew Scott Harris)
resorts to third person singular
briefly - greater than poetic paragraph
roughly converted into a
jiffy **** job in an attempt
to distill essential fundamental gratitude
extrapolated, viz his
present station (aery) life,
so (la ti do) rather than string you along
losing reader's attention in the process,

lemme take a nodding blink
applying non winking 20/20 hindsight,
thus far as of this writing
three score plus three orbitz,
whizzed, whisked and
cooly albeit miraculously
whipped him around the sun,
hence (no surprise)
appreciation prevails within him
toward gravity, and to a lesser degree

centrifugal and centripetal force(s),
and indirectly for the apple
that hit Sir Isaac Newton
on the head, thence
modesty and selflessness arose
when I tracked, transcended,
and traversed approximately
halfway thru chronological juncture
of my current existence courtesy
marriage and fatherhood which necessitated

the genesis (to one
emotional foreigner, qua survivor) of altruism
within this husbanded father figure
upon August fêted occasions,
which actually took place
December 22nd, 1996
and February 4th, 1999,
when first one then the other
born as full term healthy offspring
a beaming, choking,

and glistening tear of delight
espoused, infused, and
emotionally unmoored this then
newly minted dada,
cuz not til that moment
(id est birth of progeny
almost twenty six months apart)
this generic guy gave little thought
to cell braided miracle of reproduction,
when a priority powerfully
suddenly and voluntarily

required leveraging focus off self,
and unpopularly, unstintingly
and unwaveringly give one hundred percent
progeny yours truly helped beget.
whereby subsequent paternal kinship
quickly generated enjoyment,
more so, I felt like the most important person
atop the tallest mountain in the world;
pink bundles of genetic webbing
sugar and spice and everything nice,
especially after bath time.

Nothing compared within magnitude
engendering, kindling, and rearing
offspring, which linkedin joie de vivre
jump/kick started when significant other
imparts swell pregnant news
and with expectant newborn
in the offing untold poignant surprises
awaited procreative crafter of these words.