Day 26 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2015

Day Twenty-Six. Is today an especially unlucky day? Maybe even doubly unlucky? The numeral for today's date, 26, is 13 x 2, after all. Are there still people who believe the number 13 is unlucky? In my hometown, San Francisco, what would be Thirteenth Avenue is instead named Funston Avenue. That probably changed, or began to change, around the time of my birth; one of the bands that had a hit when I was 13 was called The 13th Floor Elevators, one of the earliest psychedelic bands. That hit song was "You're Gonna Miss Me." I wonder if one were to send a letter to, say, 1313 Funston Avenue but addressed it to 1313 Thirteenth Avenue, if it would arrive. Or maybe, you're gonna miss me, baby. Maureen Thorson's NaPoWriMo prompt: "Our last two prompts have been squarely in the silly zone — this one should give some scope to both the serious-minded and the silly among you. Today, I challenge you to write a persona poem — a poem in the voice of someone else. Your persona could be a mythological or fictional character, a historical figure, or even an inanimate object." Robert Lee Brewer's PAD prompt: "take a word or two invented by William Shakespeare, make it the title of your poem, and write your poem. Click here for a link to some words coined by Shakespeare, who was baptized on this date in 1564. If the link doesn’t work, here are a few: advertising, bloodstained, critic, dwindle, eyeball, hobnob, luggage, radiance, and zany. He invented more than 1,700!" I was a teenager during the old psychedelic hippie days. Living in San Francisco, I was right there when it was happening. I was 15 years old during the Summer of Love in 1967. In fact, my family happened to live in the Haight-Ashbury district, just 5 or 6 blocks from Haight St. Something I remember very clearly from those days was the artwork of hippie rock concert posters, which would be stapled on light poles and taped onto walls in the street. One of the most memorable hippie artists was Rick Griffin. Here's one of Griffin's posters, perhaps the most famous and iconic one, showing a flying eyeball with reptilian tail and claws holding a skull, advertising a February 1968 series of concerts starring Jimi Hendrix, John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, and Albert King. According to collector Eric King, "This image has been found painted on tribal buffalo skulls in the jungles of Thailand, printed on T-shirts in the Chilean desert and tattooed on Japanese punks in Osaka" and "is Rick[ Griffin]'s vision of the all-seeing eye of God the father, the Old Testament 'jealous and angry God' before whom Rick felt we are all wanting, all guilty, all unworthy sinners doomed to burn forever on a lake of fire." Rick Griffin, Bill Graham Poster, 1968 I am melding today's two "official prompts," the NaPoWriMo persona poem and the PAD poem with a title made from two words Shakespeare coined. The persona speaking is the flying eyeball from the Griffin poster. Bloodstained Eyeball You see me every single day on your dollar bills, eyeing you from the highest point of the Illuminati pyramid. But this is how I truly look, children, with my tentacle tail and claws. Alas, poor Yorick with sunglasses, this is you. All of you, this is YOUR head. You cannot escape me. I shall break through sky with flames and angel wings to find you. Bloody veins may stain me but I see you. I see you. I see you. —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Wow, a complete surprise how that poem turned out. I thought it was going to be a light-hearted poem but it asserted itself in a totally different way. Here's Alan's poem for today. "Shakespeare coined pedant," Alan tells us, "and I am a happy reader of Robert Browning. Combining the two prompts seems to work all right today." Pedant That’s my last project, lying on the desk, looking as if it still matters. I risk debasing my work now; two dozen chairs of various departments spent long hours to fill these forms to suit my tastes. I said “my tastes” by my design, for none have read these papers through, administrative stance reminding them of my significance when funding issues rise and I am asked to offer what I’d recommend. I’m tasked to make these leaders fall in line, who’d teach as if they have some mastery to reach their students, having researched, studied years while holding classes. “Interference” wears upon them, they complain, as if some words, a lab, a lecture moves this school towards desired political expedience. Of course, we do not sell degrees. Why chance, however, inciting alumni who suspect progressiveness is working through the lectures? Legislators read the news and ask in public forums what’s the use of languages, art history, or art itself, and should their criticism start on women’s studies and diversity, then I’d find life more difficult for me. You don’t think I’d be some officious fool who’d try to kill these programs through a rule? Why should I make my motivation clear when I can make my troubles disappear by claiming viability’s at stake and draining their resources? I can make departments spend uncompensated time in drafting papers, ream by ream by ream, and find some point that still will need revised. Ironically, the more I am despised by lower ranks, the more I grow endeared to regents, boards, alumni, too, prepared to quantify the universities and measure their success through earned degrees with standards rooted in the politics of prejudice and fear. There’s no quick fix when something sinks, especially when one who sees the breach controls how something’s done to mend or mitigate when we’ve begun to head for shore. Assure the governor the labor leader’s speech will not occur because accreditation work is due too close to any open date. As you can see, the stadium has broken ground, and we are certain he will be around to dedicate it on its opening day. Our provost’s health is good. I’ll let him know that you were kind enough to ask. Please go through here and see the model of the bust commissioned by the man we’ve just discussed! —Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Ah yes, the Duke of Ferrara is indeed a fascinating role model. Bravo, Alan! Friends, won't you comment, please? Love to know what you're thinking. To comment, look for a red line below that starts Posted by, then click once on the word comments in that line. If you don't find the word "comments" in that line, then look for a blue link below that says Post a comment and click it once. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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