1

We are the funny men
The laughter men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with mirth. Alas!
Our wavering voices, when

We giggle together
Are loud and senseless
As hyenas in dry grass
Or gales stirring shards of glass
In our dry cellar

Form of clay, color of slick.
Fictitious force, turbulent motion;
Those who have crossed
With eyes darting to and fro,

To death's other kingdom
Remember us -- if at all --
Not as grasping, violent souls
But only as
The funny men

2

Eyes I dare not meet in ads
In death's advertisement kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Blinding light on a broken column
There, is a tube man swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More shrill and more booming
Than a cancelled star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's advertisement kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
(Thinnest phone, cleanest drip, slickest rizz)
On the grass
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer--

Not that final meeting
In the Find Out kingdom

Here you go! I’ve rewritten the text to avoid direct reference to the theme:

III

This is the slop land
This is swamp land
Here, the seed rounds
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a gilded man's hand
Under the twinkle of a parasite star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Fully sure that
We and our money are soon parted.

4

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of choking stars
In this hollow valley
The worms atop our kingdoms' bones.

In this last of meeting places
We wail together
A barbaric yawp
Gathered on this beach of the sunken river

Sightless, unless
The flames reappear
As the perpetual star
Tetraethyllead rose
Of death's Find Out kingdom
The hope only
Of unserious men.

5

Baby shark
Mommy shark
Daddy shark
Grandma shark

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Comedy

                Don’t want to meet your daddy

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Comedy

                Just want you in my Caddy

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Comedy

                Don’t want to meet your mama

Just want to
I’m just
Just want to make you

Grandpa shark
Where’d they go
No one’s here
Sleep again

I've made an effort to read some more poems this year and always enjoy finding out any more when I can. In the UK you can find anthologies of "The Nation's Favourite Poems" and "The Nation's Favourite Comic Poems" et alia by the BBC, which is where I've learnt most of my new ones this year. It'd be great to see what poems have left an impression on you this year.

For brevity, I'll put a short one here and then two longer ones I discovered this year down in the comments.

Two Cures for Love - Wendy Cope

Don’t see him. Don’t phone or write a letter.
The easy way: get to know him better.

I had a little interaction over at the local ~health.mental monthly meeting that sprouted the idea of trying to create a kind of poetry/illustrated book together.

Original comment, for reference

I moved back to my parent's place, and mentally that has been hard because of past trauma issues related to the place.

But I've come up with many coping mechanisms and meditate a lot. So that has been helping.

But I still cry sometimes.

I think the cadence is kind of sweet and an interesting base to tell small stories (either as part of a larger story or independent) from daily life.

As I wrote there I think having each spread of the book in the same format will drive the point across best: that no matter how life is, sometimes we cry and that's probably a good thing.

Well, let's see if we can come up with similar short stories, or just talk about the idea, or share a drawing that you'd like to show us that you think would fit.

Hi tildizens, the NYC subway often has posters with a poem and artwork on them which provide some relief from the ads that decorate the trains. On my commute today, I found this poem by Srikanth Reddy quite tantalizing.

Everything

by Srikanth Reddy

She was watching the solar eclipse
through a piece of broken bottle

when he left home.
He found a blue kite in the forest

on the day she lay down
with a sailor. When his name changed,

she stitched a cloud to a quilt
made of rags. They did not meet,

so they never could be parted.
So she finished her prayer,

& he folded his map of the sea.

Unfortunately, the single piece of related online discourse I can find is a two-line comment on a 2008 blog post of the poem. So tell me: do you like this poem? What do you make of it? Is it about a couple that splits up due to infidelity (as Google's gemini ai told me) or people that are connected despite having never met (as Mistral's le chat claims)? What of the kite? Why is it blue? Why might his name have changed? To me, it seems he must be a sailor (but different than the one she lays with?) and she relatively poor. We're reading a lament of a missed connection, perhaps.