I really wanted to express warm grattude
to the new web acquaintances I've made on here
during this trying time. Practically overnight
I got a buncha new followers as a new user, or
at least it seems like a buncha to me; then,

rather suddenly, it seems like everybody at
once stopped reading my stuff. Given the current situation,
I sincerely hope that this doesn't mean you have...
no, it's too terrible to think of, much less say.

Nevertheless, my gratitude for your recognition,
however momentary, is heartfelt and continues,
and I want you to know that I will continue to
value our association for as long as this period of
social disconnectedness lasts, after which
I will re-evaluate rationally based on a cost-benefit model.

after several consecutive insomniac nights
I was rummaging you tube when I came upon a site
inviting me to try something called asmr for sleep problems.
when I clicked there the screen went blank and a
woman with a husky voice said, “listen closely.”

that was in july, I think.
since then several interesting things have happened, or are in progress.

my cable has been replaced by dish.

my long-time therapist sent a message announcing his retirement.
However, I am attempting to evaluate whether, in fact,
he or an otherwise-named corporate entity are returning
to my bank account,
once a month, incrementally,
the consultation fees I paid him over the last 17.75 years,
in transactions tagged as “voluntary reparations (unofficial).”

Some things - Emily Dickinson, Finnegan’s Wake - are starting to make a lot more sense,
especially late at night,
but not in relation to any of the topics you would ever anticipate.
On the other hand, I can no longer unravel the plot line of
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

There are indications that I have become a hugely successful web presence,
but only in Japan;
I remain at a loss to decipher the resulting communications but
my new avatar may or may not translate as “Fool for Fugu.”

I find that feeding the squirrels in Prospect Park is very satisfying.
I devote more and more of my waking hours to this pursuit,
though they are becoming increasingly demanding and picky eaters,
rejecting nuts and random carbs while displaying an unusual
preference for radioactive isotopes of the lanthanide series.

Most important, mommy comes to tuck me in every night and help me
to sleep;
she is rather large, so only her right index finger can make it
through my bedroom window, but the way she
gently scratches the nape of my neck is very effective.
Her latest polish is tangerine crush coral.

I know you're not supposed to be discouraging
so I'm putting this in a different place on the web
so's hopefully the person I'm snarking at won't see it
but I can't help it

this person (not a HePo)
said,
in verse,
"I think the world is trying to give us a hug"

o
gee

if so,
it's the way big Lennie
hugged the puppy
in that Steinbeck book

I just called my Doctor's office
to tell them I needed a prescription renewal.
After verifying my information,
they informed me that I am dead.

This presents me with an ontological dilemma:
who am I to dispute the Doctor's opinion?
I have been wrong about basic issues before.
And in the event they are correct,
do I really need to keep taking a 10mg statin
once a day?

Is there anything the Spirit of Dead Matter would not do
To keep His Crown? Would He hesitate to
**** his enemies, his doubters, those who resembled his most awful victims –
To black the Light and ash the Rivers and irradiate the Airs of those
Lands which gave succor to his last craven opponents –
To freeze in soundless Vacuum the last voices modeling any meaning –
To steal in the night the last pulsebeats or lightward twistings leaving
In their place only brazen clockwork,
Verdigrised,
Badly made,
Maloccluded snapping cogs and the last sensations the screech of unlubricated parts seizing in a deathlock
While over the last junkyard muzak tinntinnabs-----

Hell to the Cheats He Hath Choked our respiration,
Howl for the Cheez, He Shalt ***** youse hart n sole.

The social graces necessary to
Hover weightless but apparently comfortable
Over a plurality of attitudes – or “sides” –
No one of which can be fully embraced
Without collateral damage, is what now defines
An acceptable communicator, friend or lover.
Not as we once told ourselves
A “capacity for ambiguity” orbiting like chimerical quanta
In the airy loops of your cortical apparatus,
But quite simply a very special brand
Of Tight-Assedness,
Seated directly on the dilemma’s sharp horns
With no outward sign of emotional distress
Or fakery.
Without this early-acquired skill you can’t avoid sinking
Into blatant relativism or – worse even –
Partisanship, with its unavoidable implications
That you might consider someone you meet,
With all the rights and privileges of a distinct human individual,
To be actually rather stupid.

Before they decided always to be
Perfectly honest with each other,
The inhabitants of Regulus V
Constituted a thriving, variegated community;
Now there’s a radioactive cinder.