Correspondence

Greetings, all! So what are we learning so far this spring? The NBA is back, the Cubs are a disgrace & the White Sox will most likely repeat. The White House "shake-up" goes on & will soon be catching on with all the kids & replacing "grinding" as a popular form of dancing. The Red Line is completely fucked. Radiohead tickets are going to be ridiculously expensive, thanks to all you Nazi fucking ticket brokers out there. But don't anyone go jumping in front of a train just yet (unless if you are a ticket broker; then, be my guest). "Keep hope alive...

I've been keeping my hope alive in the form of these little "letters" I've been writing that are passing for poems. So far, two of them from the original addressee, Twin Falls, have been picked up for publication & have prompted responses from at least two other towns/cities/etc--Columbus & New Lennox. I've taken a shine to this lil' epistolary form & written to other bergs throughout the land & thought I'd take some space in my nook o' Hell to post the only one to be addressed to more than one person. I am always very interested to know what you good folks out there think about my ditties (& even those of you of ill repute!). So PLEASE, fire back any comments; have no fear, let me have it 'cause I'm dying to know what you all think. Of course, any kind of reply is always most welcome here in Infernoland. Thanks.

xoxoxo, your friendly neighborhood foundling


Dear Columbus, New Lennox, Twin Falls--

Hope everyone's Cinco de Mayo was on par w/
National Prayer & May Days. May oh my! So many anniver-
saries to keep & track. But doesn't everyone love a scoundrel?
Just a name, like forks n' knives, Guy Faux, a string section.
Midwives. We remember & birthday even for those we lose.
& lost. Just years, depending on ancestry & astrology. Except
for angels, for whom nothing earthly applies. Isn't it time we
develop better shoulders to carry______? Alas! I must tarry
off for tix to the hot ticket of the summer: feel good the getting
is not. But 5 years ago on the first of August (& hottest day of
summer, Aught One) I slept & tarried not. Suffered the sun's
duration, the recycled water. & after Radiohead walked off, I
stood in the middle of Michigan Ave, traffic blocked for miles
north & south, and despite all dis-, a victory. Achieved & able.
One night no one was a saint or a street or a thief. Just angels.
It was as it is: no holiday. But that victory's still out there, o'er
the ramparts, over the Lake. Just a song past the farthest pier.

Early to rise,

Quad Cities