a_strange_treat

Your fate rests upon the edge of the vile snout of an unwashed madman!

I just felt like saying that.

I also felt somewhat compelled to say "wicker scrotum," but I won't out of consideration for your feelings.

A friend told me today about a thing she called a "Man Purse." We were at lunch. A person ... a man ... had walked in carrying one of these primpdiculous satchels. It had FRINGE.

Using a napkin to make my point, I explained that the sack in question was NOT a "man purse." It was just a purse. Just as my napkin did not suddenly become a "man napkin" when I picked it up, this fringy pouch did not become a "man purse" when a man picked it up.

Also, I found this play I wrote in college. It was actually an exam. The prof guy said "do something creative." ... That was the fucking final exam ... "Do something creative."
The course was on the American Romantic Period: Whitman, Thoreau, Fuller and such. And so I wrote a play about how such literary luminaries would respond to current events. Er ... events that were current when I was in college in the mid 90's.

So in order to get their take on current events, I set the play at a seance and people grappling with modern spirits were conjuring these poetic geezers for their advice ... it was a little more complicated than that, but that's the gist ... not important for this particular story.

So anyway, I was re-reading this play, and I came to the Whitman part, where his ghost was speaking to two people trapped in a now passionless marriage. I thought his lines made a pretty decent poem, that I now will share with you. It's different from how I usually write, because it is supposed to be imitating ol' Walt. Walt was infatuated with lists ... and with Lincoln, but I digress. But it's not bad:

I sang songs of myself
songs of men
songs of women
songs of the nation
song of the world
I sounded my barbaric yawps across its rooftops
I celebrate life
I celebrate love
the love of a man for a woman
the love of a woman for man
so must you celebrate love, life and each other
celebrate it with your whole being
let your minds swell with it
let your hearts break with it
let your bodies move with it
embrace
caress
love your lovers scent and voice
love each bead of sweat
that falls from your lover's breast
which house a yearning, beating heart
channeling love and live through your being.




Wait ...

Did I just write "wicker scrotum"? What the hell is wrong with me?