Sunday, August 30, 2009

(the ha modeled as the ha-ha)

-----------------------------------------------------------------I don't see too much humor in any of the knots in this thread, so might I remind you all that the red and white corpuscles are at constant battle with each other. The friends of these corpuscles live in the bloodstream and are making constant whoopie. Having tired of both the corpuscles and the friends of the corpuscles the blood in the bloodstream rushes down to the feet, gets a look at those feet and rushes right back up to the head. Seeing that the blood must contain itself it turns over and gets real cold. Once attaining a state of coldbloodedness the blood proceeds to mock red and white and even blue corpuscles by having an all American dinner in the middle of an all American house. After the blood has boiled, it simmers for two hours and begins to drag on and on and on. Sometimes it fragments. Itself. Some, times. And in the dead of night it waits silently as the March of the Corpuscles fills the stream and then it says to the corpuscles, Yonder comes the rush of even more blood, rushing rushing through the stream... perhaps you should go home. But, the corpuscles persist and establish a new nation within the bloodstream, where you and little Johnny can grow up happily and without any oppression. You'd like that, huh? Well, how do you think little Johnny feels? How do you think big Johnny feels? I bet he feels something too, probably we all do. Probably just gravity though.

A second poem from Thoughts and Other Girdles (2001).
Images via and, respectively.

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