The Language Poet's Final Four

O    N    C    E
D    A    Y    S 
G    R    O   W
L    E     S    S 
T    H    A    N
L    O    N    G,   

W   H   O’    D
M    A    K    E 
T    H    E    M  
E    A    C    H
M   O    R    E  
F    U    L     L

N    E    E   D
K    N    O  W 
W   H    A   T
W   O    R   D, 
W   H    A   T 
S    O   N   G 

T    H    A   T, 
S    U   N   G,
N    E   T    S 
T    I    M   E
L    E    S   S
N   U    L    L.

Doin' the Spellcheck Shimmy

Whence heroes de yore, like The Right Stuff's Chuck Yigger…?
Who cheers while the U.S. files climate's hair trigger…?
Who's praising the Christian while razing the Uigher…?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'xigger.')

Who black-listed Zero Mostel and Pete Sigger…? 
Who back’d Michelle Bachmann and blog’d "How we dig ‘er!"…?
Who’s cast beaucoup ballots for Palin…? Go figger!
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'chthigger.')

Who neighs to his neighbor, "My handgun's w-a-a-ay bigger"…? 
Who drives after drinking way, tres too much ligger…? 
Who feels Donald Trump is in need of a wigger…? 
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'djigger.')

On steroids, Team USA's cyclists prov'd quigger, 
though using’s destroy’d more than one Major Ligger, 
while folks who should know better chortle and snigger.
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'kkknigger.')

Who cannabis bans but puffs a big cigger...?
Who boozes by gallon and not by the jigger…?
Who  flaunts G. I. Joe, dissing Eeyore and Tigger…?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'thmigger.')

Who "pooh!"s his genetics but calls Mendel 'Grigger'…?
Thinks H'waii'ns by saucer came, not by out-rigger…?
And who doesn’t realize Drumpf’s an intriguer…?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'houyigger.')

Who adores and defers to the Founders with vigor,
insisting all immigrants weather the rigor
of Homeland Security's brutal buttkigger…?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'sphligger.')

When promises made to the farm-produce piggers
deserve follow-through, who are A-one renegers…?
A hint: who's hellbent -- neither zaggers nor ziggers...?
Amer'ca! (At least we no longer say 'tschiggers.')

Extraordin'ry: some black folks call themselves 'squiggers,'
whose ancestors came as slaves, stuff’d in square-riggers,
whose kin, nonetheless, are all Anti-Def Liggers.
Why would folks -- black, white -- ever call others 'thiggers'…?
Because they're Amer'cans…? Just facts, ma'am...just figgers!
(Amer'ca! In time we’ll forget we said 'mniggers.')

The Mystery of the Missing Menagerie

An alphabetical checklist of animals not observed disembarking the post-diluvial Ark 
includes the following. Each name is crossed out as its kind is addressed in the verses.
The Abracoot   The Bixwort   The Chaphter   The Dipshin   The Encest
The Fleurt   The Gannock   The Humblewied   The Indultyff   The Jimwhiskee
The Kennett   The Lastery   The Mormal   The Nestino   The Owser   The Pibling 
The Quarteus   The Ribaudred   The Snett   The Tshampeer   The Unqwood  
The Vaddage   The Waltroone   The Xissible   The Yoilous   The Zimmee

Tongues -- loos'd -- rumor’d it ‘round

how, once Noah touch'd ground –
having floated down forty-odd days –
some on board the man's ark
fail’d to, then, disembark.
What provoked such delays...? Some malaise...?

“For a judgment in rem,

I’ll put questions to Shem,
Ham and Japheth,” thought I. “Those three know
what went down on Dad’s barque.
They’ll shed light where’s there’s dark.”
Thus determin’d, I gave it a go.

“Brother Ham,” I implor'd,

“I shall not be ignor'd:
you’ve brought aardwolves, but no abracoots.”
“Shite! You’re right,” returned Ham,
“though I don’t give a damn:
before boarding, they’d shat on my boots.”

Then to Japheth I turn'd.

“Brother Japh: I’ve discern'd
you’ve no bixworts, although you’ve two bison.”
Spoke up Japh -- and I quote:
“I examin’d each coat.
Seem'd like bixworts would bring loads of lice on.”

I to Shem, with a snort:

“Holy cow!” Through his port-
hole, he'd – Ham -- chuck'd two chimps. “Where’s your claphters...?”
Chary Shem, making answer,
Said, “Claphters Ham bans, sir.
They constantly cling to the rafters.”

Then the two challenged me,

“Next you’ll query why we
have brought drakes and dugongs but no dipshins…”
then took pains to explain:
“Dipshins mock'd us: ‘What rain...?’
whence both fell into fits and conniptions.”

Later who should arrive

but their dad, Noah: “I’ve
been observing you, bugging my boys.”
Said I, “Not at all, lord –
though I must ask: on board,
why no encests...? It can’t be their noise.”

“No, no,” Noah shot back.

“Encests coo; they don’t quack.
It’s their odor that keeps ‘em ashore.
Who insists it’s their fussin’
that disinclines us, in
a word, would be wrong. Musk! No more.”

“As for noise, my good man,

it’s those fleurts and their clan
we abandon'd. Their clamor...? Rambunctious.
The twin ferrets we brought
both behaved as they ought.
But the fleurts’ lamentations...? Ur-unctious!”

“So you say, Captain N,”

I reposted, “But then,
how do you and your lads explain these...?”
And I fetch'd forth a nest
in which gannocks should rest.
“You brought geese: why no gannock pair, please...?”

“I’ll,” cried Ham, “field this, Pop.”

Then he sold me this sop:
“Anyroad, we tried loading one pair.
Said that pair (bred in Nome),
‘We’d regret leaving home.’
In th’event, we abandon'd ‘em there.”

*  *  *  *  *

“Down your gangplank skipp'd skunks

lugging vast steamer trunks,”
I observ'd, “yet appear’d no tshampeers.”
“That’s because,” answer'd Ham,
I had just told ‘em, ‘Scram!’
whence they’d drown’d in tsunamis of tears.”

The Fake & the Real or The Executioner's Song

His news is fake. His nous is fake.
(His gnus…? Fake too, folks feel.)
Now he, with (thanks to Jewish kin)
fake “…nu…?”s must daily deal.
Still, I ain't dim. When hanging him,
I'll check his noose is real.

The Sergeant N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee: an Hommage a Mildred Plew Meigs

Doh! for the Sergeant N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee! 
No poet afloat wrote as dreadf'lly as he. 
But, oh, what a one-off! So wonderf'lly twee
was the Sergeant N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee! 

So thick were his shtick, ‘twouldn’t slice with a knife! 
Still, his clowning abounded. Buffoon'ry ran rife. 
As both did -- indeed, do (see "Don Durk," "John Fife's wife") -- 
with Ms. Meigs…and N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee.

Things That Go Bump (A Thru O)

     As to 
things goin' "bump!": not a few act Alright -- tho' one
bunch (bumpees bleat) bites -- which brings on The Blight (i.e.,
after alightin,' which seems none too bright.)*
     * “Betht to 
fathen thoth theatbeltth," obtherveth Bett’ D. "Thith will 
thertainly be thuch a 'thpring-bumpy' thpree." 

     Of the  
rest that go "bump!" there be some I might Cite who "tump-
tump" on their trumpets. (They're quite a Delight...till thin 
Dendrite-like shite quits their rumps. Such a sight! 

     Who'd es-
chew things that bump...? Well, an Elamite might. (I'll bet 
Elam* would frown 'n' provide 'em a Fright 'fore he'd 
ever go gentle inside that Good night.) 
     * Actor Jack of the famously ferocious face

     I've eyed
large crops of bumpers who jump from great Height. There's this
Itie who bikes from (he claims) Isle of Wight! There's an
Israelite and a diss'd Jacobite. (To that   
whole kit 'n' ‘boodle, I’m, "Go fly a Kite!") 

     As to 
castin' some Light (if they've good Line of sight, all who
qualify Might, even though just a Mite) upon
things -- some in Nighties -- which bump in the Night: well, such
castin' I'd characterize "Outta sight!"

The Sweet Desiderata of Don Juan

Incomplete's Juan's retreat from la Spanglish Armada --
like Rennie's "Repeat: 'Klaatu nikto...Barada'!" 
Or Johann Sebastian Bach's "Coffee Cantata":
its key (half in "'D'ecaf") brews musical Dada.

Much sweeter's Juan's treat of a hot Enchilada --
though sweetest to eat is his hotter Frittata.
Consuming each leaves his personum non grata.
(Fritatas…? Juan’s eaten one hellavalotta!) 

Less sweet...? Taking heat from some street Intifada,
or hearing "Jing, Ja-Da..." from Bull Jake LaMotta,
or getting machete'd by Jomo Kenyatta,
or dancing Lambada with Lenya (Ms. Lotte).

'Tain't neat how elitist Juan's Hari (his Mata)
is fleet to remind him how "'Nada!' means Nada." 
(It is neat when sweet teeth enjoy (Omigod!) a
confection-fill'd papier-mache-bound Piñata. 

Sour sweetness -- no sheet! -- binds Tomás TorQuemada
to Twin Towers Terrorist Ringleader Atta.
Such stench can't be quench'd by Juan's "Moonlight Sonata": 
tout suite he'll need beat on their feet a Toccata.

Juan fails at Umbata; hails Dr. Vadata; 
tweets "Wacho's Waldrada beats 'X-[something]-ata.'"
Sweet "blah-blah"s of mine mimic Juan's "Yadda-yadda"...
then Juan hits the streets, bleating "Viva Zapata!" 

We're ALL Agaga Now

     If 
Aga Khan (Allah be praised!) is now Agaga Khan,
     is Ba-
lenciaga now Balenciagaga...? Go on!

     That 
creature from the Black Lagoon’s now from the Lagagoon,

     while 
Dag’s become Dagaga Hammarskjold. (How opportune!)

     E-
lena’s now Kagagan. Twist’s Jew Fagan’s now Fagagan,

     and Gad-
dafi’s Gagaddafi (No, he’s not "Menagam" Begin.)

     Sure, 
Hagar still is horrible, though now’s Hagagar call'd.

     Icelandic 
sagas...? All sagagas now. (Like you, I’m so-o-o-o appall’d.)

     Jag-
gagar and Jaggagers Mick and Pip’s attorney are,

     while Kage-
musha’s Gagamusha. (It’s a shi-shi sushi bar.)

     Look how

Lady Gagadiva now’s become Godiva’s handle.

     Where’s Ma-

nagua...? Nicaraguaga! (Recall that Contra scandal...?)

Nagasaki’s Gagasaki. (Which did Truman bomb...?)

     And those

"Oh-My-Gaga" messages on iPhones bug my mom.

     Now

Puff’s the Magagic Dragagon. (That's quite hard to say.)

     And, like Qui-

roga’s Quirogaga, Uruguay’s Uruguagay.

     Rags

Ragland’s Ragagas Ragagaland, which few would credit.

     And

Sagamore Sagagamore’s become. 'Tis true: I read it.

     Fort

Ti’s Fort Ticondarogaga (upper New York State).

     We love U-

ganda now as Ugaganda; Idi we still hate.

     Vi-

agra or Viagraga...? Each one should do the trick. 

     Let’s

watch the film Wagag the Dog. (I still don’t get that flick.)

     Let’s

dance to Xavier Cugagat; he’s still the Rhumba King.

     And

Yuri Gagagarin is, in Moscow, still the thing.

Sari, renamed Zsa Zsa, now’s re-renamed Gagabor.

     (I fear I’d

faint were I to annotate one single ‘gaga’ more.)

The Three Worst Haiku Ever (And Two Candid Reader Responses)

The dreadful haiku: 

One, two, three, four, five;
eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve: 
no seven; no six! 

A, C, E, G, I;  
J, L, N, P, R, T, V:
W and Y!  

Two, four, six, eight, ten;
twelve, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen: 
twenty, twenty-two!  

The EAH response: 

These ARE horrible. 
Did you spend much time on these...?
I hope not. Zowie! 

The DFH response: 

What's that awful smell...?
Is it these stinky Haiku...?
Oh my god: PU!

Tricksters Arachne and Br'er Rabbit Through Coyote and Daedalus With Footnotes in Verse: Exercises in Academical "Arachnarchy"

Presenting either the last word or the final straw in abecedarial academic verse. Herein the footnotes rhyme -- and have their own footnotes -- while the footnote numbers are not superscripted but are bold and rest right on the baseline. Talk about unorthodox!

     * Sgt. N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee (the N stands for 'Nabokov') 

Form: The first line of each stanza introduces that verse’s key initial and a word initiated by it. There follows a second line, one referencing a notable trickster from the worlds of folklore or fiction, the initial cap of whose name also matches the verse’s key letter. Line three provides an informative segue between the characteristics or behavior of the trickster referenced in the second line and those of the bearer of one of the many aliases of Sgt Jim N. Smithe-Magee, an arch-trickster and the primary editor of the poem and its explanatory footnotes. Or, as often as not, all the rigors of the entire aforesaid formality are tossed to the winds. So much for form.

Method: (A) One anagram alias of Sgt. Smithe-Magee is selected from the PlaysWell document “Udderwise Known As” for use in line four. (B) A rhyming dictionary is consulted and the selection of words that rhyme with the selected name are examined. A four-syllable rhyming word (or, with a tweak to the form of the line, a three-syllable one) is selected for use in line one. (C) The name of a trickster from literature is selected. Line two is composed. (D) Line three is composed. (E) Items to be footnoted are selected and numbered. The footnote lines, whose rhyme and meter are identical to those of the principle lines, are composed. (F) Further necessary, though non-rhyming, footnotes are selected, numbered and lettered. These footnotes are composed.

Procedure: Read aloud if possible. Each verse begins with a large initial cap which should be screamed. Four trochaic lines are read in order at normal voice levels, followed by their footnotes, also trochaic, in order, although these footnotes’ numerals aren’t enunciated. The footnotes appearing further below (those enumerated by a numeral with lowercase letter appended) are not to be enunciated either but are merely to provide additional information or comment and thus are without regular meter.

Index of Openings: A is for anatomy… B is for behaviorist… C is for coincident… D must be for dodo’s egg… E…is it for epithet…? F may be for funnyman… G’s for Gandalf Greyhame, grig… H may be for holograms… I…is it for infamy…? (a work in progress)

The Verses: 

A is for 'anatomy.' [1]

Aunt Nancy's [2] nurselings (ar - a - ne -

i - dae [3] ) notch "knives" [3a] which nick the knee

of Sgt. N. ("Jim") Smithe-Magee. [4]


[1] Some organism's parts (i.e.,
one subset of morphology).
[2] A spider folk-name [2a] from SC [2b] 
(South Carolina, not Sud Cay [2c] ).
[3] Some taxo-terminology
for 'spider' (not for 'honeybee').
[4] An anagram for...hey, that's me! [4a] 
('Tis all a "grammarrangementcy." [4b] ) 


[2a]  'Aunt Nancy' is a corruption, heard in the southern U.S., of 'Anansi.' Both names refer to a character from West African and Caribbean folklore who, though a spider, often appears and behaves as a man -- or, as in this instance, a woman. 
[2b]  Pronounced "ess-see" you see. 
[2c]  A small island, man-made (and made-up), which surfaces, ala Nemo's Nautilus, now and again in Charleston's  harbour.
[3a]  'Knives' provides a metaphor for the more strictly anatomical 'fangs.' 
[4a]  The Sarge, in addition to being the blogger responsible for this and other posts on the PWWL site, is considered in many quarters to be quite the arch-trickster. As will be seen, he is known by an ABC's worth of aliases -- at least. 
[4b]  Said of letter rearrangements, as with anagrams, "...an area of expertise of Sgt. Jim N. Smithe-Magee's..." (the N stands for Nonsense). And with the mention of 'anagram,' the first verse comes full circle. But wait: There's more...much more. 

B is for 'behaviorist.' [1]

Br'er Rabbit…? [2] Nossir! Skinner's list

insists this critter's kin's [3] been kiss'd [3a]

by Shem G. ("Jet") Enigmamist. [4]


[1] A branch of Psych -- one Chomsky [1a] diss'd,
and Rachlin, [1b] too, in part, dismiss'd. 
[2] This trickster/rabbit shook his fist,
tried totalling T. B. [2a] -- but miss'd. 
[3] I.e., his relatives consist
of bluffers -- briefly, that's the gist. 
[4] An anagram for Teemingmist --
we mean J. ("Shag me!") Teemingmist. [4a] 

[1a]  Linguist Noam 
[1b]  footnote in the works
[2a]  None other than the wonderful Tar Baby, a character who makes his initial appearance in the Uncle Remus Stories of Joel Chandler Harris. 
[3a]  I.e., influenced. The word used here is the metaphorical 'kiss'd,'
[4a]  An anagram, as well, for Sgt. Jim N. Smithe-Magee.


C is for 'coincident.' [1] Coy-

-ote’s [2] counterfeits: Their bent…? To

magnify [3] the devilment of

one Miss Jammie G. (“The Gent”). [4]

[1] “Contemporary with” is meant
(at least, such is the po’m’s intent).
[2] Coyote’s Raven’s [2a] complement.
A trickster…more: A malcontent.
[3] To reinforce, i.e., augment,
chicaneries his crafts foment.
[4] Miss Jammie’s [4a] aka Clar’ Kent. [4b]
(Jam rents a pent [4c] in Stoke-on-Trent.)

[2a] Another Native-American trickster anthromorph.
[4a] An additional alias of arch-trickster Sgt. Jim N. Smithe-Magee (the N stands for 'Nobody').
[4b] I.e., Clare (or Clara) Kent -- in any case, neither is to be identified with nor any relation to Clark, aka Superman)
[4c] Short for penthouse apartment. (Embrace the irony -- i.e., a short word substituting for a tall residence.)

D must be for 'dodo’s egg.' Ol'

Daedelus, that Doric yegg, [1] laid

two [2] ; his dritt’ dodge [2a] “tugg'd the peg” [3] of

poor J. Stegman (“Mistie Meg”). [4]

[1] A dext’rous trickster, brim to dreg.
(Abandoned Crete for Winnepeg. [1a] ) 
[2] First one: Ic's wings [2b] (prognosis: Neg! [2c] ).
[2d] His next: Inventing mumblety-peg. [2e]
[3] A variant for 'pulled the leg.' 
You need one more? No dunning: beg!
[4] Aka Sgt. Jim (not Craig)
N. Smithe-Magee, [4a] Highpriest of Gleg. [4b]

[1a] A small island near Mykonos
[2a] I.e., his third scam (why it’s numbered in German remains undetermined)
[2b] Those mechanical ones fashioned for his son, Icarus
[2c] I.e., they proved unsuccessful
[2e] The so-called “game of the gods”
[4a] The infamous trickster, not to be confused with his brother Craig N. Smithe-Magee.
[4b] The squint, the sly look; routinely said of tricksters

Penn'd in the Fall, Folks (of 2016)

His aim’s to appall, folks.
He’s building a wall, folks. 
With thumbs short ‘n’ small, folks,
he tweets folderol, folks.
(So: how many Justices
will he install, folks…?) 

With gaze oozing gall, folks, 

he’s answ'ring fans’ call, folks,
which fans tend to brawl, folks,
and talk with a drawl, folks.
(So: which third-world dictators
does he enthrall, folks…?) 

His moll is a doll, folks.

His kids own the mall, folks.
His tales are all tall, folks -- 
though "Screwball!” some bawl, folks.
(So: when will his “telling it like it is”
pall, folks...?) 

In marts label'd Wal-, folks,

for toadies he’ll trawl, folks.
His druthers…? To loll, folks, 
or foist free-for-all, folks.
(So: if he’s elected,
what fate might befall folks…?) 

He never will crawl, folks,

nor will his rise stall, folks.
I’m fearful of Fall, folks.
Says he: “Fuck you all, folks!”
(So: which of his challengers
plans a withdraw’l, folks…?}

Meanwhile, who’ll opt

to him stop with a mawl, folks…?
And who’ll give their all, folks,
to see the man crawl, folks…?
Or move to Transvaal, folks…?
Or throw in the tow’l, folks…?
(So: what can be done
to make Don cry, “That’s all, folks…?)