The last letter

The last letter

Nobody thought is was coming yet here it is:

The last languid though heartfelt letter to be

Inked on this piece of paper.

The postal service is gone, kaput, au revoir

And the only way to deliver a letter today is to do it

Yourself!

Mailmen went from endangered species to

Extinct (throwing a raw steak at them now is too late)

Yet for some memories they still cross the blocks;

Whistle in the snow and ease a smile

“Junk mail or not here it is.”

Think this: during the WWI trench warfare

Young men knocked and shocked with feet

Rotting in cold mud

Had the written word to hold on to; be it theirs

Or from some beloved

Stamped, dated, watermarked

It was in the hand or a pocket or helmet

Warming the spirit like a coal furnace.

If war is an argument for letters then let

Us keep warring;

Ripping young brave hearts

So to build the right environment

to bleed some ink

If today we ignore any need

To flag an emotion on a support other than

-Electronic-

Then we have flattened our landscape;

Taken the roll out of rivers;

Removed the rumble of avalanches;

Unboomed the sonic boom and

Unpopped the child’s floating bubble.

And stamped out our last tangible history

Personal, unviral, grandiose.

A Kiss Affair

August 11, 2011

Flatbush and Atlantic Avenue

22^nd floor near the Watchtower

It’s 6pm

The call for prayer intermingles with

Tom Carvel’s call for soft ice cream

2 Presidential copters scream over the horizon and

Air molecules containing 76% humidity bounce off

Manhattan walls

In a new fangled apartment a space age compost contraption

Foments trashy fermentation as

DSK rests in Tribeca awaiting his infamous trail

High above the Brooklyn chatter

Above the swapping of credit cards and

Chiropractoring of sore bones

Our friend’s black l8 pound virus-infected

Turkey-like cat

Sneezes projecting a white tender booger 32 inches

That makes a splash in the inflatable Jacuzzi

We watch it disappear under the bubbles

This is a time warp of long lost friends:

We sip on cold cocktails

And catch up on bygone follies over the years

As if not a minute had transpired.

*Kiss or kici in Hungarian means small.

Power Point counter indications

Using too much Power Point is dangerous to your health.
Studies have shown that people who use PP on a daily basis develop a memory circuitry that automatically goes on slideshow. However aside from writing shorter sentences that always fit into a text box, PP users, whether voting to the left or right, carry inordinate quantities of bullets in their pockets. The FDA has consequently issued a stern warning on all PP points of sale, with clear smart art graphics demonstrating how this software is one hard slide away from the trigger. 

Elephant Peach

Peaches grown under Elephant Feet are more juicy, sweet and low in fuzz.

Elephants gracefully stroll over peaches provided them protection and a perfect environment.

 

The first Pit bull exclusive cemetery has opened to the relish of dog owners. Situated in Marne-la-Vallee, in the outskirts of Paris, the owner Raymond Domenech, former coach for French football's national team, has expressed that this cemetery operate on a level of respect owed to its dogs. "Although chains and spikes are at the entrance" he said with his signature seriousness and stitched brows, "we want to let the French know that their dogs belong on this soil just as much as any poodle or golden retriever." The cemetery called "Le Pit Funebre" has tombstones that play a selection of heavy metal music and a menu of digital pictures inlaid in the stone. It has been flooded with demands from impatient and sometimes furious owners from as far as Belgium who are barking for their share of the pit.

Leaf blowers

I blow day in day out

Swinging my hose like an elephant

Of 42 years

If those in the cool gym pay little eye to my shuffle

Tis my rumbling load of 50lbs –a delicate tortilla chip under the bar to bench

 Still reassured am I for aerobic damsels and gents appreciate a cleared brick walkway

All year round.

But some I've heard complain

When my roaring engine climbs to the 34th floor penthouse 

as easy as a soaring bird

And once not hearing

I blew into a fellow leaf blowing colleague

A spiraling leaf stuck onto my sticky chin

And my aftershave osmosed into it.

My blower and I are close –even my kidneys have adapted to the vibrations

I have taken it with me to restaurants

And museums

(at the MOMA I blew beside Rembrandts and Monets, the depiction of fertile soiled

Foregrounds stimulated me to the point that my hose knocked over a lady)

I have blown the peaks of Mont Blanc and the Everest

As well as the highest dune in the Sahara.

After some time I learned to blow blueberries on my pancake

And my children enjoy how quickly I can cool their hot broth for diner

Or send a bowling ball down the lane

One day I wish is to blow a thread through a needle!

Nevertheless, after all these years of ex-suction (you guessed, my youth was mired

As an office vacuum cleaner)

Tis the 32 acres of my Condo complex

That inspires me to blow, blow hard, and blow best.

Lucky Charms

As I eat me Lucky Charms, 12 howling coppers scream flashing

from slurp to marshmallow chew

my pupils follow from my nesting point

a 16 floor high-rise Miami condo

A helicopter swoops into the search

Evil is somewhere

amongst shopping strips and car washes

I am feeling "magically delicious"

RDA fulfilled and skin creamed plastered

Immune to the Sun

July is cool and chillin