Thursday, March 31, 2005

Robert Creeley, poet, teacher. May 21, 1926 - March 30, 2005

"Let us suddenly
proclaim spring. And jeer

at the others,
all the others."

Whenever President Bush uses the phrase "culture of life" I feel like throwing up. If he wants to be a true "pro-life" conservative then why doesn't he adopt the morally consistent positions of Pope John Paul II? Where was this "culture of life" when Bush was sending men & women by the dozens to the Texas death chambere while ignoring appeals for mercy even from the Pope? What kind of "culture of life" is he advocating when he proposes billions of dollars in cuts to life-saving social programs? There's something seriously awry in the mind & heart of a man who is for a constitutional amendment banning abortions, for intervention in end-of-life cases like Terri Schiavo, but against everything the government does to help people inbetween birth & death. What His Royal Smugness really promotes is culture of moral hypocrisy, encouraging a radical right wing protestant sub-minority to bully the rest of America as he deliberately garbles his meanings for the benefit of late night TV comedians, masquerades as a good ol' boy, & plays real-life games of Risk with his fellow greedy & amoral military-industrial billionaires.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Sorry sir but you can't bring that boiled lobster inside.

Once in a blue moon someone asks why I don't do poetry readings anymore.
".....I was tired & wanted to read theology & listen to all the Mahler symphonies plus Das Lied Von Der Erde, which I did. Live readings could make me feel vulnerable & exposed in ways that all stutterers will fathom....."
Experiment with parking longer, rambling entries on a separate page.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Beth Stroud is preaching at the Princeton University Chapel on April 10th, 2005 at 11:00am. Beth was defrocked last December by the United Methodist Church for openly acknowledging that she is in a "committed relationship" with another woman (i.e. married). Beth endured her fifteen minutes of general fame in the documentary "The Congregation." But that congregation, the First UMC of Germantown PA, continues to support her as she appeals the loss of her ministerial credentials through the UMC judicial process.

This paragraph was buried in an address given by Dr. Iain R. Torrance on March 10th on the occasion of his inauguration as President of Princeton Theological Seminary.
(Dr. Torrance receives my heartfelt appreciation for not using the word "paradigm" anywhere in his speech.)

Matthew 19 is one tough chapter; only the children catch a break. When some Pharisees put a seemingly simple question to the young, popular rabbi, but really a matter on which volumes of complex interpretive commentary had already been written, Jesus "threw the book" at them, in effect replying, "Here's God's indisputable original law; can you live with it?" He doesn't go any easier on the rich young man or on Peter & the Disciples. "But many that are first shall be last; and the last first."

In the 1950's, the popular pastor of my church resigned when his marriage failed. Methodist ministers did not divorce.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

The Rutgers Lady Knights were in Philadephia this afternoon playing Ohio State in the Regional semis (Rutgers won); so what the hell is the Newark Star-Ledger's Jerry Izenberg doing up in Syracuse writing about Wisconsin's basketball team?

When Fairly Ridiculous University stayed close to Illinois in round 1 of the men's NCAA, one supposed the tournament would be a bit strange. Low/high seed upsets are bad for one's bracket picks, good because they dispose of opponents one's favorite teams might have faced. But they are usually a waste because Vermonts & Bucknells go nowhere & are never Cinderellas. By the end of the regular season, Big East fans knew Connecticut was shaky, BC was overrrated, Syracuse capable of playing badly, & that Villanova & West Virginia were getting better. It was disappointment to watch 'Nova & WV lose. Louisville doesn't count .. yet.

Happy Easter

Listened to Heinrich Schutz's St. Matthew Passion,a rather austere 17th Century Lutheran work with a lot of solo plainchant. Then Faure's incomparable Requiem (1893), which I had the great pleasure of performing twice with a church choir around Easter back in 1967, when I possessed a teenager's servicable baritone voice. Sections of this Requiem are often included on compilations of easy listening classical religious music ("Music of Inner Harmony" "Mad About Angels"). No purgatorial sufferings or triumphal fireworks here. Resurrection is espressed as a quiet & peaceful transition, like a sunrise on a hazy Summer morning. Wrapped up the Easter music with "Wondrous Love" from William Duckworth's reworkings of the Southern Harmony songbook. "I'm Gonna Run To the City of Refuge" by Blind Willie Johnson. An Alan Hovhaness setting of a colonial hymn text "O, For a Shout of Sacred Joy."

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Lost my maroon knit hat in the supermarket today. An ordinary hat, but I'd had it a long time, years, don't remember when or where I got it. Maybe it was someone else's lost hat. I've been using the same umbrella for at least 15 years, & it came to me as an unclaimed item. One of my favorite shirts recently crossed the border between clothing & rag, I felt sad that I'd never wear it again.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Hugging Elena

Dr. E.K. noted that I hugged her for the first time today. It was also at the end of our final session, as I was leaving her office. For me, it wasn't the last act of our therapist/client relationship, but the first of a post-clinical friendship. I'd never felt comfortable enough to hug her until now. After 5 years, she'll always have a psychologist's edge; particular insights into my personality & behavior that's she kept to herself. But now, those insights belong to an "old" friend who has known me during some of my most vulnerable periods. E.K. actually wondered how we would greet each other should we happen to meet while in company of other people. I said I wasn't concerned about it. If I'm with someone who knows me well, I'll have no problem introducing my former therapist, & even enjoy it. Otherwise, she's someone I worked with. I also said there's no rule that says I can't drop her a note about what I'm doing, or send a new poem. I felt sad at the change, but also liberated, & that attitude of new possibilities was not lost on E.K., I think it relaxed her & made her last session with her last client at the clinic an enjoyable one. I not only appreciated being her final scheduled appointment there, I deserved the spot. She knows what I'm like on a good day; but even on good days in therapy you have to turn to the business at hand. Over the years, we've touched on a lot of subjects that we couldn't follow through on; American culture & politics, human rights, Russian classical music, Jewish & Christian traditions & morality, language, the seasons, holidays. Of course, we couldn't go across the street to the cafeteria, get some coffee, & just talk about anything. If were up to me, we could. But I never seriously challenged her professional distance & authority. She carries her expertise gracefully, & she had to earn the authority because she was, after all, working for me, & she was responsible for accomplishing what all the kings horses & men could not do. This blog is a tribute to her, especially the poems I drop into it time to time.

As an artist, & spiritually, I try to think of myself as a citizen of the world. But I'm also a guy from New Jersey & although E.K. is from Russia, she is now, I half-joked, a "Jersey girl." "What is a
Jersey girl?" she asked. She's asked me a lot of questions over the years about America. "A girl from Jersey," I replied.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

The weather tonight is
a miserable perfection
of snow, sleet, rain,
wind from the gray North Atlantic,
accompanied by dopplering
ambulance sirens,
winter keens its own death.
A fine evening for hearing the Spring section of Haydn's oratorio The Seasons, composed by the maestro when he was nearly 70.

What's with this fetish President Bush has for bald heads? It was exposed a year ago, but he keeps on doin' it. What a turkey!


Tuesday, March 22, 2005

A poll by Strategic Vision has 61% against congressional intervention. I don't hold that something is is right & true because most people are for it. But the Republican congress & the president mis-read the American majority they claim to represent in the Terri Schiavo case, just as they have been mis-interpreting the meaning of Bush's re-election victory; which is why Dubya's Social Security plan has come down to ridiculous arguments over whether he advocates "private" or "personal" accounts.

Too bad the Republicans never get so riled up on behalf of sick Americans who aren't in a persistent vegetative state, or the homeless, or the working poor, or our exploited National Guard soldiers, or those condemned by the Texas judicial killing machine. You'll never see them call a special session of Congress to address these problems. States rights are great as long as the rights don't differ from the Republican national agenda. & the Schiavo ruling proves you can't trust the damned activist Federal courts even in a "red" state unless they put the Ten Commandments in the lobby & a Republican in the White House.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Dream Journey & Turkey

Exhausting night, wandering New Jersey in dreams after dark, from Route 22 to New Brunswick - where, after walking around Albany Street circa 1972, I inexplicably boarded a southbound train by mistake. My backpack was stolen but I found it & berated the thief. Finally, near dawn - the sky brightening in dreamland - I caught a local out of Trenton, headed back for Rahway, & woke up in Elizabeth an hour before the clock radio was set.. Oh well, who knows where that train would've gone had I stayed asleep?

The dream was probably generated by Sunday's possibilities. Glen Jones, his lovely companion (who lives near me) & I mulled over driving home then going back to WFMU for the evening festivities, decided against it mainly due to the lousy chilly drizzly weather that would keep the crowd overflow off the third & fourth floor outdoor decks & probably create elbow-to-elbow conditions in the rest of the studio building. At WFMU parties Glen likes to park himself in one place with a beer where he can chat & not be constantly jostled, while I get antsy & tend to circulate. Although I would've liked to have been in the chorus for Chris T's rendition of "Convoy," we hung around until six-thirty & then called it a day. Hoof 'n' Mouth Orchestra didn't wrap up the finale until after one a.m. with Ken Freedman's howling rendition of "Whole Lotta Love," dressed peculiarly as Uncle Sam (I was watching the cam). Fortunately, I observed the afternoon rehearsal - they needed only one run-thru. But what if Robert Plant, who's been listening to WFMU recently, had decided to make a personal appearance? Would it have then been a duet?

The food was unusually good even before the catered stuff arrived. Mrs. X-Ray brought a very tender whole turkey with trimmings, which I had. But there were burgers on an outdoor grill, fried chicken, baked ziti, & more junk munchies - donuts, pastries, home baked cookies - than one could comfortably sample. Nobody can brew a good pot of coffee, tho.

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Sunday, March 20, 2005


WFMU marathon ends today.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Does anyone know why God allows children to be brutalized & senselessly murdered? Do we blame God, or do we say that God's protection has been withdrawn from a sinful society? Many people do. I am certain that making children recite the Lord's Prayer in public schools & placing plaques of the Ten Commandments in courthouses won't stop or even slow down the predators. Amber Alerts have already saved lives. Teaching children how to protect themselves saves lives. The monsters who harm children are usually people the children know. Reactionary Christians think moral values peaked around 1955, back when child abuse hardly existed only because it was a terrible secret; acknowledging it was more taboo than the deed. Genesis 19:32-36 has Lot's daughters seducing their father, but in a patriarchal culture that countenanced polygamy, concubinage & slavery, what do you think really happened?

Unlike the partisans, I'm not at all sure what is the right thing to do in the tragedy of Terri Schindler-Schiavo. But it's not true that "The American people have screamed at the top of their lungs and asked for a federal legislature, a state legislature, anybody with any authority to get involved and to save this woman's life." as one right wing activist said with the moral certitude one expects of a religious zealot. On the contrary, I think most Americans, myself included, are conflicted, try to imagine ourselves & loved ones in similar situations, & sympathize with everyone directly affected by the terrible predicament. We wish it to be resolved one way or another & that Congress not grandstand on a family's sorrow.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Some other Spring

Pleasant early Spring afternoon, I dressed in layers - sweatshirt & hooded sweat jacket - chatted outdoors with a few familiar people about birds & parks & neighborhoods; facets of their personalities. Then a very nice late afternoon walk to supermarket, more a stroll, no need to hurry home, enjoying the twilight period.

e letter from a friend describing the place he regularly eats lunch on weekdays, the staff there he's gotten to know, this other world the restaurant supports of waitresses, cooks & customers, people we meet who inhabit an indefinite area between acquaintance & friend, we speculate about their lives outside of where we encounter them. We feel badly & miss them when their paths lead them away. At the center of our curiosity is always the mysterious element of private desire; wanting to jump over to an alternate timeline we sense parallels everything we do & every choice we make, an escape suggested by the lives & souls that intersect our own, of which we always learn too little or a little too much.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Fourteen Questions for a Pisces

"What is the secret of synchronous kisses?"

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The Fish

I've met two woman born on March 17, about the same age, who aren't anything like each other - except perhaps that both prefer what is familiar, which seems to be the sort of Pisces woman I meet. The four Pisces women I've known well - well enough to observe how they live over a period of time - are all home-centered, & by that I don't mean pushing a vacuum around & keeping a showcase antiseptic kitchen. Rather, they wrap their homes around themselves like an old blanket & prefer others come to them. That kind of home attracts me. I never sought out Pisces women - we found each other. But for about 8 years I've deliberately kept a safe distance from The Fish. There are 11 other astrological signs & if none of them happen for me then I'm better off being alone. Maybe. I'm in contact with only one of the four, & she's been married to an Aries since before we met, a good & sensible life that has preserved her from intimate entanglements with Scorpios. The most stupid thing any woman I have ever known has ever done was a Pisces leaving me to be with another Scorpio. Whatever kind of life a Pisces has with one Scorpio, she will almost surely recreate with the next, even madness, & if she made a mistake she'll never be able to admit it to herself. It's just too difficult to crawl out of that old blanket again.


Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Legendary ballplayers exposed:

A recently discovered, unpublished manuscript by twice Triple Crown Hall of Famer Richie Ashburn reveals that:

Hank Aaron, Major League record holder of 1137 lifetime homeruns, used steroids.

Mickey Mantle used steroids when in 1961 he smashed Babe Ruth's single season home run record to smithereens with 86 four baggers.

Willie Mays, reviving a fading career, propelled the New York Mets to consecutive World Championships in 1972, '73 & '74, thanks to steroids.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Watch out those ides of March.

Google translated from English to German to English
CAESAR: Hectar! who designates?
CASCA: Offer each to noise are calm: Peace nevertheless again!
CAESAR: Who is it in the press, which asks for me? I hear a tongue, which is more schriller than the whole music, cry ' Caesar!', Speak; Caesar is the one which can be heard turn'd.

SOOTHSAYER: Watch out those ides of March.
CAESAR: Which man is that?
BRUTUS: Soothsayer watches out those offers you ides of March.
CAESAR: Adjust it before me; let me its face see.

CASSIUS: Companion, come of throng; look after Caesar.
CAESAR: What say'st thou to me now? speak again.
SOOTHSAYER: Watch out those ides of March.
CAESAR: He is a dreamer; let us it leave: exceed.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Akiri Yoshizawa, March 14, 1911 - March 14, 2005

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Sunday at WFMU

Unfortunately, X-Ray Burns & his lovely wife couldn't make the marathon program with Glen Jones today. I always enjoy seeing Sharon, & also missed the turkey & trimmings she cooks & brings every year. Maybe next week. So Ken Freedman took over co-host chores. A nice thing about Glen & X-Ray is when the show's over, they leave the stage. They don't need their egos stroked - well no more than any other WFMU staffers me included . Glen always acknowledges when I'm "In the house" & I appreciate the compliment.

Many "older" WFMU DJs draw directly from personal memories of classic AM radio, or from the great years of late night FM, so It was a treat watching Bill Kelly & Dave the Spazz working together, both of whom are talented practitioners of the former. Gaylord does a kind of pop-oriented program one might imagine existed in the Sixties but is in fact his own creation. Bob Brainen's low key, laconic mic presence may make one forget that he's always been one of the few WFMU DJs who knowledgeably & comfortably mixes pop/rock with artists such as Archie Shepp, Eric Dolphy & pre-electric Ornette Coleman.

At WFMU we wouldn't think twice about selling the Shroud of Turin to Donald Trump - for the right price. That's why we're auctioning a Miraculous Grilled Cheese Sandwich.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda

Friday, March 11, 2005


Must one always soak one’s joint
to get rid of the excess salt?

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Losing my therapist: peering ahead

In April I'm ending biweekly private therapy sessions with Dr. E & changing to a group environment. I started private sessions in 1999, with some stretches during which I saw my psychologist every week and was also in group therapy. The current situation is that even if I'm still not managing my personal affairs with consistant reponsibility, I have been managing my emotional ups & down. So it's time to get support & encouragement for the things I'm procrastinating on doing, or that just scare me too much. The group environment encompasses psychological, social, & practical concerns; psychologists prefer not giving a lot of weight to the latter in private sessions; one is better off seeking help from social workers, counselors, & peers. Not that the groups I've been in were loaded with peers.

I quit two different groups, both times because a member of the group had problems that I believed were too serious & out-of-control for the format, monopolizing and paralyzing the group dynamic, & making it nearly impossible to bring more mundane matters to the group's attention. People I liked in the groups weren't showing up anymore. One can get good advice in group therapy, from dealing with one's family on holidays to finding a competent optometrist. It's the day-to-day things we can't figure out or won't handle that pile up & finally make us crazy.

Dr. E may be as sad to lose me I am to lose her. I am an interesting client/patient, neither an addict nor court-ordered into therapy; educated, intelligent, articulate, creative, thoughtful, self-deceiving, self-destructive, stubborn, courageous & cowardly, & an accomplished bullcrapper. I "enjoy"our private sessions, but I'm also aware of how much I haven't opened up to her. & I never liked bringing so much baggage of daily difficulties to the sessions; I'd prefer digging deeper into my dreams & childhood memories. It's not the end of our relationship; just a change, perhaps even a hiatus, I like being a "poet-on-the-couch" with a smart, insightful psychologist. That's how Dr. E & I really connected; when five years ago I was able to make her understand that if we together couldn't rescue The Poet, I didn't give a damn what happened to rest of me. & we did, which is why this blog is nearly two years old, I still do the occasional radio show at WFMU, & most remarkably, find myself making a poem once-in-awhile.

"If you blog and are paid by a politician or a corporation or interest group, your readers deserve to know that continuously up front." - Chuck Raasch, USA Today

Wednesday, March 09, 2005


Recommended by Jim Coleman.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

A gray drizzly dawn is fine
when one has been out all night
arrives home at 7 am
& must sleep.
Walked home from the train station this morning in a mild, not unpleasant spring-like drizzle. When I woke up, about 2 pm, the temperature had dropped so sharply that streets & sidewalks had flash frozen & there was about an inch of snow on top of that, with wind gusts over 40 mph. I didn't venture outside. Conditions were much worse than January's so called "blizzard" - typical media hyperbole to generate ratings out of a Jersey snowstorm. With not much actual precipitation, this afternoon's rush hour was hellish - if hell is ice, not fire. Jersey state police reported one hundred accidents on Route 78 alone. Every major highway in & around New York City was jammed, many at a complete halt. Long backups at Holland & Lincoln Tunnel & every other river crossing. Four to six hour delays at the airports. This is what happens out on the plains states, only the temperature bottoms out at 30 below & there's nothing to slow the wind down & the snow blows sideways & six inches of it turns into twenty foot drifts Cars skid off the highway & they & their occupants aren't discovered until April Fools Day.

E-lec-trical Banana

What a slow, slow night co-hosting with Stan. I thought we pitched really well, across a variety of reasons to pledge, but the phones just did not ring enough. After three a.m. rumors started that NYC Mayor Bloomberg was coming to the studio for Nachum Segal's Jewish Moments show - it's an election year - finally confirmed when Nachum himself showed up before five; the appearance scheduled for 7:20, at least half-an-hour after I'd be gone. But no one had to tell me that hizzoner's security people would no doubt make a quick inspection of the premises , & since that could happen at any time it seemed wise to, ah, empty the ashtrays early. Put it this way, the thought that a team of plainclothes New York cops might walk in did not help the groove.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Three of Fourteen for Pisces

Does the motel on Neptune have a heart-shaped hot tub?
Are you sure that poem isn't a haiku?
Will you be angry if I finish first?

Sunday, March 06, 2005

"Joyful Abandon"

An old friend wrote to me that "joyful abandon" is "An emotion I don't remember you inhabiting." True enough memory, & stated gently & inoffensively, we've known each other for thirty years. Thinking on it, my initial response was to answer that I experienced it doing this & that. But later - I enjoy mulling it over - I concluded I hadn't known her to inhabit joyful abandon either (which is emotion + action, joy causing abandon or abandon causing joy). Although I've never doubted her capacity for it, promise isn't proof

What is joyful abandon? Is it another friend literally falling for someone at a party long ago & dancing so wildly with her that he crashed through a wall? Johnny Walker helped that along. Is it how I felt on the Wildwood boardwalk on an August night in 1998, by myself, having smoked quality pot back at the motel, overwhelmed by the insane beauty of it? - I felt great joy, but the abandon was collectively outside & all around me; I was the eye of the hurricane. Is it being given permission to act upon one's deepest most private sexual desires & then letting go? How often does that happen, or is it a different type of abandon? A room filled with singing, dancing Hassidim? John Coltrane on stage heading into his tenth chorus & the audience disappears? Whirling dervishes? Glossololia? Jackson Pollock when he was "in" his painting. A child left alone with a bowl of ice cream? Allen Ginsberg while he was chanting "Om" for six hours in Lincoln Park, Chicago, 1968? All that we hope for if the soul is immortal? I don't know that I've simultaneously experienced joy AND abandon, or have witnessed it in person. Makes for very pleasant dreams, .... & fantasies.

A Birthday:Bob Wills, b. Kosse, Texas, March 6, 1905; d. May 13, 1975

Friday, March 04, 2005

Martin Denny, 1911 - 2005

Thursday, March 03, 2005

The annual WFMU pre-marathon staff meeting

The WFMU pre-marathon staff meeting last night took well under two hours including non-marathon agenda, probably a record for brevity. With only few changes to the paperwork trail & just a handful of newbies - who meet informally afterward with manager Ken Freedman - we all knew what it was about. The really interesting business for DJs is communing with music director Brian Turner's printouts of "leftover" prizes, making adjustments to the lists of stuff each DJ gives away. But most importantly, the pre-marathon meeting is a traditional, upbeat gathering of the faithful for the purpose of solidarity.

These pre-marathon meetings used to be painfully drawn out, as we grappled with redesigned pledge cards, revised pledge amount & premium categories, & the growing importance of the internet, plus the extra time needed to field pointless questions. Some years featured a jittery air of anxiety as WFMU faced an expensive crisis, or two, with our equipment or in defense of our air signal. Those meetings took on an "I'm OK, you're OK, we're OK, OK?" atmosphere of mutual reassurances. A significant percentage of the staff has been around since the East Orange/Upsala College era, we recall our brushes with extinction, & believe me we are still grateful for marathon years that have no over-riding emergency. We're all a bit permanently paranoid about our various modes of transmission during fund-raising time as a result of past bad experiences, which is one reason we continue to burn lucky candles as we did twenty years ago when we were broadcasting out of a mildewy basement & the studio looked like it had been hot-wired by Mister Magoo. Other marathon oddities have included mysterious flu epidemics & the bad timing of domestic soap operas (I'm not the only staffer who's gone through relationship hell at marathon time with a non-staff lover who couldn't postpone the Ending or the Ultimatum for two weeks).

There was a "first" last night, in my long memory: manager Ken was rendered speechless. The details of why turned out not to be very important, but just witnessing it was an unexpected treat.

I have a minor role in the marathon - thankfully, because I do not pitch well on my own behalf. This year I'm for Stan from 2am to 6am Tuesday March 7 (Monday overnight). Stan's one of the greats of late night free form radio (see, it's easy praising someone I like). Our struggle to find a common wavelength at the beginning is always amusing. I'll definitely be "in the house" loitering around the phone room with Bryce before Stan; for Glen & X-Ray Sunday the 13th; for Fabio Thursday the 17th, & whenever else I get there. I'm not performing with Hoof N Mouth this year (procrastinated choosing a song) but I could do back-up singing if I show up for the Sunday Night finale.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Two of Fourteen for Pisces

Do you have any spare armor?
Can I have a bite of your donut?

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

NYPD Blue ended beautifully & quietly. No one in the regular cast was killed, maimed or traumatized. Two competent young detectives arrived to work at the 14th. & Sgt. Andy Sipowicz as the new "boss" supervised a controversial murder investigation just the way he would've wanted it done when he was a detective, catching hell from higher ups while earning himself some protection by being right. The squad was adapting to the same kinds of changes that had occurred many times during the twelve years of the program. The show ends but the characters go on doing their jobs.

I saw a robin today working the exposed grass where snow had melted along the edge of a sidewalk.

Some years I don't see a robin until summer.

13% of visitors to this blog stay long enough to read something. That's fine. You won't get the news or investigative reporting here, or computer programming tips, or gossip, or even a daily dose of mundane personal information. I have other writing all over the place on the internet. I deliberately refrain from hyperlinking every noun. When I went out & about to poetry readings in coffeeshops & gin mills the audiences averaged 15 to 20 people - some of them not listening & most of the remainder poets convinced they were better than whoever was running on at the front of the room. Typical WFMU radio listeners stay tuned in only as long as they like the music or talk, then they move on; just a small percentage of FM listeners even know who the current DJ is. I accept the percentages. Some time I'll write about Archy the Cockroach & the nearly lost art of the newspaper column.

"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be." Thomas Jefferson

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