Poetry of the Moment
O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke -- banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.
Public Service of the Moment
This is a little warning for my friend Jane. It may have come to late for her, but maybe it will help someone else from a wayward path:
Literary Bit of the Moment
Is there no rest? No escape? I stumble to the closet and reach in for my salvation. I see it all so clearly now--I'll follow Papa Hemingway to the happy hunting grounds with a one-way ticket on the Lead Bullet Express over Gun Powder Falls through Massive Head Wound Canyon.