In splendor, all things come to rest.
May they rest ashore; may they rest
in the direct currents, a fractal thereof.
In splendor, Beth Karmody lives. Something did go
damn wrong out there. Direct currents, indeed.
The hurricane became—
to use your word, Fred, a ‘fractal’, a fractal of her life
performed last night, all the rough edges,
and all the space in between. She’s in Earthcutt Hospital,
right now, not in Intensive Care, but, in ‘Sensitive Care’,
just some burns on her hands, really.
The danger she’s in is the danger all of us
are in. Life empties out. Our balloons get released
into the sky to blow away…
I know, so poetic—the poem that follows from the wind
so as to certify it, as if to seal its hastening,
a poem for the Commissioner of Parks, one pushing
debris together, an all-poem in all-concision… Fred,
I want to create a hurricane—call it Hurricane Intaglio—
or Mr. Eye-Sore as Himself—okay, a poem about
a hurricane—called I Married a Hurricane—a poem
where balloons do escape into the sky—Mr.
Eye-Soar sweeps a fractal circus,
one ‘pleasing families with a phantom fantasy’,
Where all things come to rest…
Okay. We’ll leave the hurricane clean-up to you,
Mister Park’s Commissioner…
I’ll tell the people what they want to know.
The Earth Intaglio—‘Earth’s best named newspaper’
will hit the stands and doorsteps of Cuttland Island
tomorrow with a special issue:
I MARRIED A HURRICANE!
An interview with Commissioner
Friedrich ‘Nietzsche’ Hanson—like nobody knows
that Freddie and Cecil are brothers.
Not to worry, I’ll make you up
—l always do—
official you, easy to do.
We’ll run that picture with the suit and tie.
‘Mrs. Biscuit’s sister’s first and second cousins are visiting
from Toronto this week. Be sure to say howdy if you see ‘em
in town or out fishing.’
Go ahead, Fred. Wow me with that.