REGALIA

REGALIAIf the rich are differentthey show it with theclarity of their tableas Scolt FitzGerald decreed,the breathless hushof their regalias,the manner in which wedgewood &crystal are cleaned to apolished exactness --the shimmer of expensive chinano less repetitive thanthe hulking boyswaiting in window stops;monsoon rain peltingthe upper Punjab plains.48Back to the Contents Page

If the rich are differentthey show it with theclarity of their tableas Scolt FitzGerald decreed,the breathless hushof their regalias,the manner in which wedgewood &crystal are cleaned to apolished exactness --the shimmer of expensive chinano less repetitive thanthe hulking boyswaiting in window stops;monsoon rain peltingthe upper Punjab plains.48Back to the Contents Page

SAN CRISTOBALA gypsy sits in a tavernajoking with a sailorwho has leftbridges and maidensalong islets connectingmany a storied sea.Ducats tumble from acloth bag the waythe gypsy rememberscaravans and theremembrance of goldsteeled againstwarm flesh inmoonlight of his nativeUmbria.Lavender is the coat of dreamsalong navy blue hemmingsthe colour of the gypsy'seyes, the blood'scolour progeny whosemen of wealthboth are related to.The gypsy stares at the tavernawall and the ducats gleamingto outside rain.Men joke at rail depotswhere in a like fashion watersplashes mud into littlearches up a riverbank.Neither has the shallows ofminnows at his command.Bunched up stubble in the windcannot fathom liesor gender hope --it is the provinceof the mind,the coinage of perhapsa Spaniard on discoveringSan Cristobal, one's ownsieglo oro in fortunesquandered in sunlightwith only the sweatingAppolosa still strainingon this, the lasttaverna ride.49, 50Back to the Contents Page

A gypsy sits in a tavernajoking with a sailorwho has leftbridges and maidensalong islets connectingmany a storied sea.Ducats tumble from acloth bag the waythe gypsy rememberscaravans and theremembrance of goldsteeled againstwarm flesh inmoonlight of his nativeUmbria.Lavender is the coat of dreamsalong navy blue hemmingsthe colour of the gypsy'seyes, the blood'scolour progeny whosemen of wealthboth are related to.The gypsy stares at the tavernawall and the ducats gleamingto outside rain.Men joke at rail depotswhere in a like fashion watersplashes mud into littlearches up a riverbank.Neither has the shallows ofminnows at his command.Bunched up stubble in the windcannot fathom liesor gender hope --it is the provinceof the mind,the coinage of perhapsa Spaniard on discoveringSan Cristobal, one's ownsieglo oro in fortunesquandered in sunlightwith only the sweatingAppolosa still strainingon this, the lasttaverna ride.49, 50Back to the Contents Page

GUADALQUIVIRIn a pleasureless world, pure pleasure exists.Particles of sunlight, exquisite with nightdrops &leaves stringent with dew,persuade tributaries with inset eyesto depart down foible breast, sticky fingersup delightful steps.And taking pleasure with an earthen spoon --sipped long and hard down tubes and windingentrails;soft relief canyons swollen blood vessels.For your brow shines like olive branches,Guadalquivir's river or nectar drawn from goldenwellsand, as such, unfolds loveliest eyesout from fond embrace not hedging lies.My darling, amongst flowering cherub treesa moment shared with you is pretty mirthaccounts all Arcadia's treasures, theangelic breath off passing wings.51Back to the Contents Page

In a pleasureless world, pure pleasure exists.Particles of sunlight, exquisite with nightdrops &leaves stringent with dew,persuade tributaries with inset eyesto depart down foible breast, sticky fingersup delightful steps.And taking pleasure with an earthen spoon --sipped long and hard down tubes and windingentrails;soft relief canyons swollen blood vessels.For your brow shines like olive branches,Guadalquivir's river or nectar drawn from goldenwellsand, as such, unfolds loveliest eyesout from fond embrace not hedging lies.My darling, amongst flowering cherub treesa moment shared with you is pretty mirthaccounts all Arcadia's treasures, theangelic breath off passing wings.51Back to the Contents Page

LEAVES OF THE CECROPIA TREEAnd what of privileged thingsmur & frankinscenseor sandlewood --yes, teak, ambergrisor skies of indigo blue-- I cite these gifts,caravans offered as treasureChristopher Wren puttingthe domes of St. Paulin place like worn spectaclesover a cherubic face.The last gargoyle pops in sightnear Notre Damesuch cathedrals are whitened sepulchrestones in "statelypleasure domesdecreed".I see the Taj Mahalwhere Mahatma Gandhi might have trod.The utterance of a tulipin every parable Christ talked;rosebuds gleaming milkon the breath of lilacstheir shields of liliesshone where Solomon walked.Song of Songs is none otherthan the poet's heart,water across stones.a warm sun working double shiftsas a pitchfork stacking memorieson a summer's dayshooing aside leaves of the Cecropia tree;old Walt resting on a benchmumbling his prayers.52, 53Back to the Contents Page

And what of privileged thingsmur & frankinscenseor sandlewood --yes, teak, ambergrisor skies of indigo blue-- I cite these gifts,caravans offered as treasureChristopher Wren puttingthe domes of St. Paulin place like worn spectaclesover a cherubic face.The last gargoyle pops in sightnear Notre Damesuch cathedrals are whitened sepulchrestones in "statelypleasure domesdecreed".I see the Taj Mahalwhere Mahatma Gandhi might have trod.The utterance of a tulipin every parable Christ talked;rosebuds gleaming milkon the breath of lilacstheir shields of liliesshone where Solomon walked.Song of Songs is none otherthan the poet's heart,water across stones.a warm sun working double shiftsas a pitchfork stacking memorieson a summer's dayshooing aside leaves of the Cecropia tree;old Walt resting on a benchmumbling his prayers.52, 53Back to the Contents Page

SOUTHWARKI noticed a bust of Shakespeare, an effigy in stone withlatticing to mirror the ages. In the same cathedral anotation commented John Harvard was baptized here.Outside, rain fell on tombstones scarcely readable,their letters frail imitations of what each manconsidered important in life.The church itself breathed renewal. We learn JohnGower, epic poet to the court of Richard II,worshipped here. I thought of translucence, then muirand gems the wise men brought the Infant Christ.Prayer candles glowed and fell into a lap of pyre. Thecrypt held Edmund, brother to the Bard.A handsome altar betrayed sentiments Gray used inhis elegy to another courtyard. My thoughtscontinued onto nearby Tower Bridge, steel and energydynamos before steps of the multitude released at five.A sign read no alcohol was to be consumed on churchgrounds.The very name of the place visited was poetic, halftwist of muscle, more pull of silent breath.54Back to the Contents Page

I noticed a bust of Shakespeare, an effigy in stone withlatticing to mirror the ages. In the same cathedral anotation commented John Harvard was baptized here.Outside, rain fell on tombstones scarcely readable,their letters frail imitations of what each manconsidered important in life.The church itself breathed renewal. We learn JohnGower, epic poet to the court of Richard II,worshipped here. I thought of translucence, then muirand gems the wise men brought the Infant Christ.Prayer candles glowed and fell into a lap of pyre. Thecrypt held Edmund, brother to the Bard.A handsome altar betrayed sentiments Gray used inhis elegy to another courtyard. My thoughtscontinued onto nearby Tower Bridge, steel and energydynamos before steps of the multitude released at five.A sign read no alcohol was to be consumed on churchgrounds.The very name of the place visited was poetic, halftwist of muscle, more pull of silent breath.54Back to the Contents Page

KUBLAI KHANThe Japanese are coming! Now there's a fresh twistand just when Pearl Harbor seemed poised to becomeanother Asiamerindian household word amidelectronics, megavision and technological hoopla.Surprise. They're outslugging us. We're cannonfodder amidst cunning economic wiles. The "sneaky"Yellow Peril (updated and given a newer "slant" fromthat 19th century prejudicial posturing) has goneawry. No death march at Bataan. No G.I. blues. OldCornpipes General MacArthur at ease; Inchon stillyears away. Where is Emperor Tojo when we needhim? Who remembers the Aryans of the East? AGreater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere?Is SEATO still intact? If Korea, Formosa, Singaporeand Hong Kong are "little Japans" does that meanwe're to become, by default, the new coolies?Tha land of the Rising Sun is broader than a battleshiplisting in heavy seas -- it's the New world Order. IsNorth America being prepared as hewers of grain anddrawers of petroleum? Alas, co-existence bringsdilemmas: the Toyota outwits even a "K" car. Andthem outpacing our GNP at 6% per annum. It's enoughto rethink the whole scheme of things. They'reobviously in the forefront of the New EconomicPolicy. More than just "Nippon" -- that's simply a badpress release from the dark days of a misunderstood,but euphemistically labelled "second global conflict".Rubber and fibre sanctions will do it every time. TheArizona and Oklahoma will testify to that. FeudalJapan would never have tolerated it, either. Who's tosay the Samurai are caught up in splitting hairs?Admiral Perry should have stayed out of Tokyo Bay.The Earthquake of 1923 just made things worse.Land's End means more than Manchuria and resources.Industry and wily opportunism have broader vistas.The Kuril Islands are a No Man's Land but so are theAinus, a primordial white race of Asia.What's red and white and comes in with the tide?America. Compared to the Japanese miracle, it's allwashed up. It's hard to contemplate N.Y.C. as asuburb of Osaka, but try. The Japanese believe incommunal bathing, so will North Americans when therecession hits full stride. Remember, shower with afriend.Japan is a land of aura. Of mystery. Genghis Khannever got there in one piece but sent his legionsanyway. Flotsam and jetsam. A bully vanquished.1066 in reverse.Britain was the workshop of the Victorian world.Japan is the Britain of the universe. The whole cosmosis borrowing her tricks. No one does things soefficiently. No one has developed cooperation to sucha fine "T". Nowhere is individualism shepherded tothe goal of the "greater good".Pierre Trudeau would be pleased. "To each his ownaccording to his worth." Sounds impressive. Does thatmean Jaffa oranges are safe to eat -- mercury andcyanide poisoning notwithstanding. Will the Levantacknowledge the supremacy of the Orient?What's new about mulberry leaves? Are silk wormsinterlopers, too?Shogun is too realistic for the narrow orchestration offacts. The difference? They play to win.Hands down, Kirin makes a wonderful beer. Sushibars are all the rage. Leyte Gulf was more than atempura explosion, Corning Ware or "Made in Japan"labels produced in bulk.Coral Gardens is a real and legitimate extension of theRice Factory idea.Cipangu. As you like, what you will. No race hasundergone a swifter transformation in the world'seye.They deserve more than groping admiration. Theydeserve our admirals, too. Who else outfoxed militaryvictory reversing it from the insides cadaver out? Thepeter principle enshrined. The victors don't enjoy thespoils.The Lion's Share is as it should.55, 56, 57Back to the Contents Page

The Japanese are coming! Now there's a fresh twistand just when Pearl Harbor seemed poised to becomeanother Asiamerindian household word amidelectronics, megavision and technological hoopla.Surprise. They're outslugging us. We're cannonfodder amidst cunning economic wiles. The "sneaky"Yellow Peril (updated and given a newer "slant" fromthat 19th century prejudicial posturing) has goneawry. No death march at Bataan. No G.I. blues. OldCornpipes General MacArthur at ease; Inchon stillyears away. Where is Emperor Tojo when we needhim? Who remembers the Aryans of the East? AGreater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere?Is SEATO still intact? If Korea, Formosa, Singaporeand Hong Kong are "little Japans" does that meanwe're to become, by default, the new coolies?Tha land of the Rising Sun is broader than a battleshiplisting in heavy seas -- it's the New world Order. IsNorth America being prepared as hewers of grain anddrawers of petroleum? Alas, co-existence bringsdilemmas: the Toyota outwits even a "K" car. Andthem outpacing our GNP at 6% per annum. It's enoughto rethink the whole scheme of things. They'reobviously in the forefront of the New EconomicPolicy. More than just "Nippon" -- that's simply a badpress release from the dark days of a misunderstood,but euphemistically labelled "second global conflict".Rubber and fibre sanctions will do it every time. TheArizona and Oklahoma will testify to that. FeudalJapan would never have tolerated it, either. Who's tosay the Samurai are caught up in splitting hairs?Admiral Perry should have stayed out of Tokyo Bay.The Earthquake of 1923 just made things worse.Land's End means more than Manchuria and resources.Industry and wily opportunism have broader vistas.The Kuril Islands are a No Man's Land but so are theAinus, a primordial white race of Asia.What's red and white and comes in with the tide?America. Compared to the Japanese miracle, it's allwashed up. It's hard to contemplate N.Y.C. as asuburb of Osaka, but try. The Japanese believe incommunal bathing, so will North Americans when therecession hits full stride. Remember, shower with afriend.Japan is a land of aura. Of mystery. Genghis Khannever got there in one piece but sent his legionsanyway. Flotsam and jetsam. A bully vanquished.1066 in reverse.Britain was the workshop of the Victorian world.Japan is the Britain of the universe. The whole cosmosis borrowing her tricks. No one does things soefficiently. No one has developed cooperation to sucha fine "T". Nowhere is individualism shepherded tothe goal of the "greater good".Pierre Trudeau would be pleased. "To each his ownaccording to his worth." Sounds impressive. Does thatmean Jaffa oranges are safe to eat -- mercury andcyanide poisoning notwithstanding. Will the Levantacknowledge the supremacy of the Orient?What's new about mulberry leaves? Are silk wormsinterlopers, too?Shogun is too realistic for the narrow orchestration offacts. The difference? They play to win.Hands down, Kirin makes a wonderful beer. Sushibars are all the rage. Leyte Gulf was more than atempura explosion, Corning Ware or "Made in Japan"labels produced in bulk.Coral Gardens is a real and legitimate extension of theRice Factory idea.Cipangu. As you like, what you will. No race hasundergone a swifter transformation in the world'seye.They deserve more than groping admiration. Theydeserve our admirals, too. Who else outfoxed militaryvictory reversing it from the insides cadaver out? Thepeter principle enshrined. The victors don't enjoy thespoils.The Lion's Share is as it should.55, 56, 57Back to the Contents Page

HOMUNCULAR FORMSCape aux Morts.Cape Diable,Points of MassacreRocks and Islanda plethora of Wreck Bays.But on Funk Island, nothing matters.Brahmsian rhetoric could describe the islandProkofievian,the sound of Marshomuncular forms;an imperative monotone.Murrelings fell from cliffs into the sea,rose and floated in foam, screaming.Olivaceous puddles.Murres and gannets, kittiwakes,sun splashed white & pitilesslight on rock --argon, radon, kryptonseasons of millennia suffocatingin the original gases of earth:xenon, neon.Granite intestineswith its outer edge lostin the darkness between the stars.58Back to the Contents Page

Cape aux Morts.Cape Diable,Points of MassacreRocks and Islanda plethora of Wreck Bays.But on Funk Island, nothing matters.Brahmsian rhetoric could describe the islandProkofievian,the sound of Marshomuncular forms;an imperative monotone.Murrelings fell from cliffs into the sea,rose and floated in foam, screaming.Olivaceous puddles.Murres and gannets, kittiwakes,sun splashed white & pitilesslight on rock --argon, radon, kryptonseasons of millennia suffocatingin the original gases of earth:xenon, neon.Granite intestineswith its outer edge lostin the darkness between the stars.58Back to the Contents Page

ANTARCTICAPerhaps it is needed to balance the planet: to provideemployment for penguins, or that ice in the form ofcrystals calls forth tiny sleighs.That the orange hibiscus be associated only withdeepest tropics...plankton learn to feed Baleen whalesAnd iron hulks, off ships. submit to greater Masters.the elements.SECOND THEORIESAnother supposition projects...snowy wastes are but vapour trails of jets and tattersails.Sleet comes only from cannonized rain, galvanized byinclement ironmongers.Yet a third hypothesizes frozen energy is stored in theform of ice caps and that the lost amongst departedsouls are reborn with every powdery breath.Ptolemy knew of a southern polar continent. Cookand Shackelton attempted separate conquests. Shipsvoyaged as early twentieth century probes amidfrozen stellar space nudging Earth's feet.Footprints the size of muskets where left as evidence.So were a few red flags. No oxygen bottles trailed theascent like those that packed Everest. Amundsen asto Hillary across the South Sea face, yet thisMatterhorn has a logic and bedevilment all her own.Norway and Russia claim exploration of her frigidbody. The British in the first virginal thrustchristened Queen Maud Land after a brilliantcourtship. Shades of Spencer and his Faery Queen;the Kron Prins Olaf Coast, anyone?Ice. South of the Antipodes. The floor of the world.Magnificant pack to the drunken global jaw, growlersor submerged ice packs. A cold porterhouse steak toward off the combattive edge, the chronic boxer'sinflamed orifice and eye -- the nosebleed's staunchestfriend.Terra Australis Incognita, the supposed southerncontinent; hoof of the Cenotaur stringing men like abow across nipples like raw wounds. clotted hair andblood on a precipice for a chest.59, 60Back to the Contents Page

Perhaps it is needed to balance the planet: to provideemployment for penguins, or that ice in the form ofcrystals calls forth tiny sleighs.That the orange hibiscus be associated only withdeepest tropics...plankton learn to feed Baleen whalesAnd iron hulks, off ships. submit to greater Masters.the elements.SECOND THEORIESAnother supposition projects...snowy wastes are but vapour trails of jets and tattersails.Sleet comes only from cannonized rain, galvanized byinclement ironmongers.Yet a third hypothesizes frozen energy is stored in theform of ice caps and that the lost amongst departedsouls are reborn with every powdery breath.Ptolemy knew of a southern polar continent. Cookand Shackelton attempted separate conquests. Shipsvoyaged as early twentieth century probes amidfrozen stellar space nudging Earth's feet.Footprints the size of muskets where left as evidence.So were a few red flags. No oxygen bottles trailed theascent like those that packed Everest. Amundsen asto Hillary across the South Sea face, yet thisMatterhorn has a logic and bedevilment all her own.Norway and Russia claim exploration of her frigidbody. The British in the first virginal thrustchristened Queen Maud Land after a brilliantcourtship. Shades of Spencer and his Faery Queen;the Kron Prins Olaf Coast, anyone?Ice. South of the Antipodes. The floor of the world.Magnificant pack to the drunken global jaw, growlersor submerged ice packs. A cold porterhouse steak toward off the combattive edge, the chronic boxer'sinflamed orifice and eye -- the nosebleed's staunchestfriend.Terra Australis Incognita, the supposed southerncontinent; hoof of the Cenotaur stringing men like abow across nipples like raw wounds. clotted hair andblood on a precipice for a chest.59, 60Back to the Contents Page

BLUE*EYED GRASSESRocky shale, pale voile,sun lighting theclearness of the bay;come Moccasin Flower or Grass Pinkunto Painted Cup --big with primula eye, these septs off wildand inland seas.The delights of success and heartbreaksof failure among the peoplein the land below Tobermory;the rocks on the cold hill,the lilacs by the doors...And it was at their expense that this landcame to be suppliedwith vitriol, camomile and liquorice,yea some camphor and jallop,oft'times basil, lemon or rhubarb--- all sent from Glasgowin wooden boxesstout as pioneer hearts.61Back to the Contents Page

Rocky shale, pale voile,sun lighting theclearness of the bay;come Moccasin Flower or Grass Pinkunto Painted Cup --big with primula eye, these septs off wildand inland seas.The delights of success and heartbreaksof failure among the peoplein the land below Tobermory;the rocks on the cold hill,the lilacs by the doors...And it was at their expense that this landcame to be suppliedwith vitriol, camomile and liquorice,yea some camphor and jallop,oft'times basil, lemon or rhubarb--- all sent from Glasgowin wooden boxesstout as pioneer hearts.61Back to the Contents Page

MOCCASINBackwoods cabin, opera housefrom the pines awash with stars,skullduggery in place over spruce hillsdredged to open revoltagainst invading plough --where greenest leavesin a miser's hand partrotting gold bagsall nugget strewn, step to step,with water speaking magicover the sound of countless woodland ducks.Hocus-pacus, theflies are sleeves over the world,black granite pull-oversslung thru the aira twinkling of the eye invokesfuneral trees, deerskin in colour,the rabbit in the hat behindrich birchbark racing thru the dark.62Back to the Contents Page

Backwoods cabin, opera housefrom the pines awash with stars,skullduggery in place over spruce hillsdredged to open revoltagainst invading plough --where greenest leavesin a miser's hand partrotting gold bagsall nugget strewn, step to step,with water speaking magicover the sound of countless woodland ducks.Hocus-pacus, theflies are sleeves over the world,black granite pull-oversslung thru the aira twinkling of the eye invokesfuneral trees, deerskin in colour,the rabbit in the hat behindrich birchbark racing thru the dark.62Back to the Contents Page

THE BULLFROGHe sat with no more compunctionthan an eel fishbig-faced, bloated,the complexion of a beehive-- a dragnet of emotionscrammed into a tumblerupended in water.His eyelids wore the effortof horseblinders, aspongy leathermasquerading as torpedoesand I saw himlonely at the crossroadsmatted grass,a strip of wire, cold currentchasing flecks abouthis person, then lunging greenexploded into rapacity --caressed the awaiting fly strewn stickwith emerald mouth &coffers of appetite.63Back to the Contents Page

He sat with no more compunctionthan an eel fishbig-faced, bloated,the complexion of a beehive-- a dragnet of emotionscrammed into a tumblerupended in water.His eyelids wore the effortof horseblinders, aspongy leathermasquerading as torpedoesand I saw himlonely at the crossroadsmatted grass,a strip of wire, cold currentchasing flecks abouthis person, then lunging greenexploded into rapacity --caressed the awaiting fly strewn stickwith emerald mouth &coffers of appetite.63Back to the Contents Page

ANCESTRAL MEMORYPatrician to my plebian,aristocratic leaning versusunbridled backwoods feeling --distinct Old World breedingcountering rudest colonial lean-to;his carcass lay, roadworthy,blinking back cold starlightwith all the forest as silent voyeurstretching for a look,black fur & quillsin disarray like Crazy Horse's warpaintafter the Big Horn,this roughneck Canadian porcupineshot clean with bumper & chrome.Then little hedge-pigquaint as porcelain china cuphalf a world awaygreeting pints of milkin an English doorwayhalf his scalp torn thrudirty, British lorry choking fumesthe petrol in its tank loose.64Back to the Contents Page

Patrician to my plebian,aristocratic leaning versusunbridled backwoods feeling --distinct Old World breedingcountering rudest colonial lean-to;his carcass lay, roadworthy,blinking back cold starlightwith all the forest as silent voyeurstretching for a look,black fur & quillsin disarray like Crazy Horse's warpaintafter the Big Horn,this roughneck Canadian porcupineshot clean with bumper & chrome.Then little hedge-pigquaint as porcelain china cuphalf a world awaygreeting pints of milkin an English doorwayhalf his scalp torn thrudirty, British lorry choking fumesthe petrol in its tank loose.64Back to the Contents Page

ENTRY POINTAnts colonized it-- huge abodes littered with the dead(leaves, sticks, the occasional granulated insectpiled high, totemic-fashion)reaping a fortune in scenery,though probably not food Ojibways were next --their tell-tale encampment bypocket-sized waterfall,inlets off a winding cataract& moss, loam-thick with black soila future arboreal dreaminching over rock, darling crevicefor northern orchid, then kissof red death the hybrid trillium& more sinister cousin,jack-in-the-pulpitfor Indian foragers.Animistic limestone shone hands,poked thru the forest with stealth,petroglyphic lava beds-- a cougar pouncing --runic carvings the cold in theGiant's stone nostrils billowingoff the lake like a presence.65Back to the Contents Page

Ants colonized it-- huge abodes littered with the dead(leaves, sticks, the occasional granulated insectpiled high, totemic-fashion)reaping a fortune in scenery,though probably not food Ojibways were next --their tell-tale encampment bypocket-sized waterfall,inlets off a winding cataract& moss, loam-thick with black soila future arboreal dreaminching over rock, darling crevicefor northern orchid, then kissof red death the hybrid trillium& more sinister cousin,jack-in-the-pulpitfor Indian foragers.Animistic limestone shone hands,poked thru the forest with stealth,petroglyphic lava beds-- a cougar pouncing --runic carvings the cold in theGiant's stone nostrils billowingoff the lake like a presence.65Back to the Contents Page

BLOODCOUNTMy mind had almost died.It had refused a game of tag on a commonwith surly children and they steadfastly took revenge.My fate like Blondin's walk across Niagarasaw cataracts looming large,hiss & foam,then visions of serpents,farawy monsters &inner tension of rocks opening.The churned, brown water opened like a basket before me.Maurading bubbles took on elephantine shapes,my barrel creeked.Faraway, the edge & drop yawned in indifferent harmony.The brown walls of my fortress barrel became like palates& sutures of my skull imprisoning the brain;the trickle of invading water ever a reminder.The close of the story?Nothing. What is there to record after a river passes?What remains of things unseen, of antelopes in flight?The shroud of Monte Cristo tossed carelessly intoseadid not fall open to the touch but was knifed with rifleforce.66Back to the Contents Page

My mind had almost died.It had refused a game of tag on a commonwith surly children and they steadfastly took revenge.My fate like Blondin's walk across Niagarasaw cataracts looming large,hiss & foam,then visions of serpents,farawy monsters &inner tension of rocks opening.The churned, brown water opened like a basket before me.Maurading bubbles took on elephantine shapes,my barrel creeked.Faraway, the edge & drop yawned in indifferent harmony.The brown walls of my fortress barrel became like palates& sutures of my skull imprisoning the brain;the trickle of invading water ever a reminder.The close of the story?Nothing. What is there to record after a river passes?What remains of things unseen, of antelopes in flight?The shroud of Monte Cristo tossed carelessly intoseadid not fall open to the touch but was knifed with rifleforce.66Back to the Contents Page

BLOODSTREAMCamping out, a miraculous thing happened.The kaleidoscope of vision was focused on a precipice,caught endangered water about to fallunder microscopic attention.Moisture was shortlived; so, too, congealed lavasheets& bedrock over which the water flowed.The cabin in the distance seemed prisoner to mistwhile a rainbow gathered its wits for the nextperformance.Nowhere did leaves intrude though a fly madeheadway up a glass paneembedded in wood like antidiluvian plants have beenknown to seek amber.In their chorus, other flies droned then ran up & downthe ledge.In the iate sunshine of the day, a bastardized vision ofdirt farmers,pioneers imprisoned in similar toil.67Back to the Contents Page

Camping out, a miraculous thing happened.The kaleidoscope of vision was focused on a precipice,caught endangered water about to fallunder microscopic attention.Moisture was shortlived; so, too, congealed lavasheets& bedrock over which the water flowed.The cabin in the distance seemed prisoner to mistwhile a rainbow gathered its wits for the nextperformance.Nowhere did leaves intrude though a fly madeheadway up a glass paneembedded in wood like antidiluvian plants have beenknown to seek amber.In their chorus, other flies droned then ran up & downthe ledge.In the iate sunshine of the day, a bastardized vision ofdirt farmers,pioneers imprisoned in similar toil.67Back to the Contents Page

ROGUE AND PRIVATEERThe Squirrel, a corsair,rides the wind black armof a pressing sea,Tribal hostilities finished,she slinks into port.Traveling lightly across open ground,a squirrel upends a brigand sapling.Grappling the ragged ends of a thicketwith riggings shredded by heavy wind and storm,the arboreal sloop ascends to the highest mast;a bush re-taken, the Crow's, Nest reconnointered.68Back to the Contents Page

The Squirrel, a corsair,rides the wind black armof a pressing sea,Tribal hostilities finished,she slinks into port.Traveling lightly across open ground,a squirrel upends a brigand sapling.Grappling the ragged ends of a thicketwith riggings shredded by heavy wind and storm,the arboreal sloop ascends to the highest mast;a bush re-taken, the Crow's, Nest reconnointered.68Back to the Contents Page

THE CAMERA CAGEAs a child, all common sense decreedpirates wore dear teeth --enamel white, with tusks to rout an elephant(the result from eating carrot sticks, I was told)-- not a solitary doubt clutched my mindivory mingled naturally with black cord and sashin the brain's Bluebearded eye.Then, it was so matter of factlike taking sausage to bed,saying a proper good nightfor the wisdom of the mother-providerwas similar to a pirate chief.The let-down came in advanced picture book form,childhood crisis accelerated on seeingKidd brain a member of his lusty crewbut the upstart taking the beatingwas toothless and soreno arcanely romantic rake at all,more like a strange woman in the parkwith whom no one dared to speak.69Back to the Contents Page

As a child, all common sense decreedpirates wore dear teeth --enamel white, with tusks to rout an elephant(the result from eating carrot sticks, I was told)-- not a solitary doubt clutched my mindivory mingled naturally with black cord and sashin the brain's Bluebearded eye.Then, it was so matter of factlike taking sausage to bed,saying a proper good nightfor the wisdom of the mother-providerwas similar to a pirate chief.The let-down came in advanced picture book form,childhood crisis accelerated on seeingKidd brain a member of his lusty crewbut the upstart taking the beatingwas toothless and soreno arcanely romantic rake at all,more like a strange woman in the parkwith whom no one dared to speak.69Back to the Contents Page

FENCE LINEThat Captain Kidd scribbling of rock in the fieldsyellowed bristle of pagesback of a farm wherepiratical breaking of land knocksclean holes in the soil,gypsy dancers vernal growth beforea spy-glass hour moon.And black print smudgedon a thumb, a child's glossary of talesthick with terrorbefore the faceless wretchcrawls for grog,his peg-legin step withone part of my brainOld Phew hardlyany Smee from Peter Panbut the holocaust --the raven in the treeeyeing the baby Treasure Island,that fledgling reasonbutchering both nostrilsat the skunk cabbage whose nectaris the prize of cemeteries& wild reunion of the bees.70Back to the Contents Page

That Captain Kidd scribbling of rock in the fieldsyellowed bristle of pagesback of a farm wherepiratical breaking of land knocksclean holes in the soil,gypsy dancers vernal growth beforea spy-glass hour moon.And black print smudgedon a thumb, a child's glossary of talesthick with terrorbefore the faceless wretchcrawls for grog,his peg-legin step withone part of my brainOld Phew hardlyany Smee from Peter Panbut the holocaust --the raven in the treeeyeing the baby Treasure Island,that fledgling reasonbutchering both nostrilsat the skunk cabbage whose nectaris the prize of cemeteries& wild reunion of the bees.70Back to the Contents Page

ADVERSARIESHe held his hands like plastic --his vestments the finercalling of his trade,vocation as modern strummerof Nature's lawsEngineer in brief --wine glass in handbestowing the more salient pointsof mawkish disbelief withcigarette to numb the spine.The Reverendlooked down on fire,caught papryus smoke in the bellowsof his chest,made laundry ofthe Plumber's intellect --tore savage parchmentfrom the soft cheesecutter'scontemporary breath.71Back to the Contents Page

He held his hands like plastic --his vestments the finercalling of his trade,vocation as modern strummerof Nature's lawsEngineer in brief --wine glass in handbestowing the more salient pointsof mawkish disbelief withcigarette to numb the spine.The Reverendlooked down on fire,caught papryus smoke in the bellowsof his chest,made laundry ofthe Plumber's intellect --tore savage parchmentfrom the soft cheesecutter'scontemporary breath.71Back to the Contents Page

BARGAINING UNITThe man about to become a sparrowis shouting his head offwearing green trouserswith red eyes framing mustier tweed,he lambasts the ladfor not conductinghis person properlyin showing up for workin a white shirt.The fact the future labourrequires only lifting boxesto a shedis a fine pointabout as importantas the man himselfwho has transformedhimself into that sparrowwhere several would notspan the breadth of abigger man's handor four could be hadin the Biblical sensefor less than a penny.72Back to the Contents Page

The man about to become a sparrowis shouting his head offwearing green trouserswith red eyes framing mustier tweed,he lambasts the ladfor not conductinghis person properlyin showing up for workin a white shirt.The fact the future labourrequires only lifting boxesto a shedis a fine pointabout as importantas the man himselfwho has transformedhimself into that sparrowwhere several would notspan the breadth of abigger man's handor four could be hadin the Biblical sensefor less than a penny.72Back to the Contents Page

PALAIS ROYALEThe night cold as nuggets, dark as acorn,against your chest; snow fallinglike abandoned echoes releasing energyinto the spyglass, umbrella moon.A solitary figure trapping hapless sparrowsnot in a net but with his footprintsdoubling as dungeons against the sun --here & there rusting eavestroughs ballooninginto avenging shadows their harpsichord voicesspun on dreams Dick Whittington once used to buy acat.And once Tom Thumb Upstaged Peter Pan byappearingunder a petunia but this is not likely to happen soon.The dawn, forlorn & grey, is a court muffin'shandkerchiefwaved at a sailor far out at sea.73Back to the Contents Page

The night cold as nuggets, dark as acorn,against your chest; snow fallinglike abandoned echoes releasing energyinto the spyglass, umbrella moon.A solitary figure trapping hapless sparrowsnot in a net but with his footprintsdoubling as dungeons against the sun --here & there rusting eavestroughs ballooninginto avenging shadows their harpsichord voicesspun on dreams Dick Whittington once used to buy acat.And once Tom Thumb Upstaged Peter Pan byappearingunder a petunia but this is not likely to happen soon.The dawn, forlorn & grey, is a court muffin'shandkerchiefwaved at a sailor far out at sea.73Back to the Contents Page

ALCATRAZWhite ibis/blue crane,the arch of wingsin full sail over leafy barquesa wise stork scanning waterlike the Disney character,conductor on his trainwith eye-glasses& stop watch.Sift of wind,unseen hand exploring the pondthe stork ungainly on a single legthe bird-man Jolly Rogera pirate burrowing in the muckadd skull and cross bonesupending frightened fingerlingsthe snout of the bandita rifle shot awaycreasing the shallows.74Back to the Contents Page

White ibis/blue crane,the arch of wingsin full sail over leafy barquesa wise stork scanning waterlike the Disney character,conductor on his trainwith eye-glasses& stop watch.Sift of wind,unseen hand exploring the pondthe stork ungainly on a single legthe bird-man Jolly Rogera pirate burrowing in the muckadd skull and cross bonesupending frightened fingerlingsthe snout of the bandita rifle shot awaycreasing the shallows.74Back to the Contents Page

WHEN LABOURING TO BREAKPerhaps one is in prison --fidgeting as timedraws to a close --a scrap of house tunicbetween the fingersor when labouring to breakcuticles on swollen fingerspressing both hands against earsthat refuse to hear the stop soundof rushing blood.Then again, in the last hour beforeend time, before dawn's arrival andfloodlit sky finds you --knuckles clasping bars, pitiless bayonet-likewith eyes swishing truncheons at all thegetaway air your lungs will never take;wheezing in growing fear to the sound of footsteps,clank of keys and gallow's humour as they prepareto Skuttle your short life, wall up clouds of theirown pestilence nakedly mask each firing squadgathering for its fighting chance.75Back to the Contents Page

Perhaps one is in prison --fidgeting as timedraws to a close --a scrap of house tunicbetween the fingersor when labouring to breakcuticles on swollen fingerspressing both hands against earsthat refuse to hear the stop soundof rushing blood.Then again, in the last hour beforeend time, before dawn's arrival andfloodlit sky finds you --knuckles clasping bars, pitiless bayonet-likewith eyes swishing truncheons at all thegetaway air your lungs will never take;wheezing in growing fear to the sound of footsteps,clank of keys and gallow's humour as they prepareto Skuttle your short life, wall up clouds of theirown pestilence nakedly mask each firing squadgathering for its fighting chance.75Back to the Contents Page

THIS WAY TO THE SIXTIES: JOHN LENNON'S DEATH FIVE YEARS AFTERIt was a red letter day and all within a decade, thesixties.Psychadelic and all because the Electric Circusopened upWalking Yonge Street in the December cold, aging"hippies", the word itself a joke, reminisced:National Guardsmen, for one, doing post-mortems ontheir rifle butts, record covers carrying the first life-sized zippers and mashed up rubber dolls; Cher Bonogetting up nerve and a career to name her childChastity but walking off with a card.By the end of the decade they were asking questions.We had landed on the moon per schedule but whowould have believed in the efficacy of Rock or theefficency of napham before Vietnam? Frosted hair.Body paint. The sixties produced a lot of it. With onebullet, the Beatles, the secular saviours, werebreaking up. Before they had finished reuniting theworld. Before the history of music could be written.Before John Lennon, did we dare trust ourselves,World leaders, gurus?That was the meaning of the assassination.History won't budge an inch for neophytes, TheClockwork Orange was instructive but didn't go farenough. Frodo wouldn't live in Yorkville today ifgiven a chance.Now for the most poignant mental lapse of the Candlecarriers, mourners and mock biers with frozenflowers. Simply the reminder half the populationdidn't share his vision. Veterans grumbled. The presspaid more attention to this solitary event thanArmistice Day. Schoolchildren tittered. What wasthat? The so-called generation gap seemed poised onthat comment. Then John's comment the Beatles weremore popular than Jesus ChristDonovan didn't survive tunes like Epistle to Dippy.Lennon won't survive the Elvis Beatle syndrome.The lights are going out on the sixties,The eighties are austere.Cherry cokes are the memory of a laugh.The Purple Onion only causes perplexion like CharlieBrown's Great Pumpkin.Forget about words like "catalyst".Lennon was the conflageration.Graffiti after him has renewed licence.76, 77Back to the Contents Page

It was a red letter day and all within a decade, thesixties.Psychadelic and all because the Electric Circusopened upWalking Yonge Street in the December cold, aging"hippies", the word itself a joke, reminisced:National Guardsmen, for one, doing post-mortems ontheir rifle butts, record covers carrying the first life-sized zippers and mashed up rubber dolls; Cher Bonogetting up nerve and a career to name her childChastity but walking off with a card.By the end of the decade they were asking questions.We had landed on the moon per schedule but whowould have believed in the efficacy of Rock or theefficency of napham before Vietnam? Frosted hair.Body paint. The sixties produced a lot of it. With onebullet, the Beatles, the secular saviours, werebreaking up. Before they had finished reuniting theworld. Before the history of music could be written.Before John Lennon, did we dare trust ourselves,World leaders, gurus?That was the meaning of the assassination.History won't budge an inch for neophytes, TheClockwork Orange was instructive but didn't go farenough. Frodo wouldn't live in Yorkville today ifgiven a chance.Now for the most poignant mental lapse of the Candlecarriers, mourners and mock biers with frozenflowers. Simply the reminder half the populationdidn't share his vision. Veterans grumbled. The presspaid more attention to this solitary event thanArmistice Day. Schoolchildren tittered. What wasthat? The so-called generation gap seemed poised onthat comment. Then John's comment the Beatles weremore popular than Jesus ChristDonovan didn't survive tunes like Epistle to Dippy.Lennon won't survive the Elvis Beatle syndrome.The lights are going out on the sixties,The eighties are austere.Cherry cokes are the memory of a laugh.The Purple Onion only causes perplexion like CharlieBrown's Great Pumpkin.Forget about words like "catalyst".Lennon was the conflageration.Graffiti after him has renewed licence.76, 77Back to the Contents Page

PROGROMThere is an unhurried resemblance to pain, here,this Fiddler on the Roof commodity, potables, fineoaken chestfor one and furs; but wait,the Czarist police are busting up the place --a program is having its desired effecton our emotions, the wine cellar smashedas tears are falling like bloody heapsin the red snow, cuttersledscarting off the sundry feelingswe've invested in, a relationshipalready staledated two years old.78Back to the Contents Page

There is an unhurried resemblance to pain, here,this Fiddler on the Roof commodity, potables, fineoaken chestfor one and furs; but wait,the Czarist police are busting up the place --a program is having its desired effecton our emotions, the wine cellar smashedas tears are falling like bloody heapsin the red snow, cuttersledscarting off the sundry feelingswe've invested in, a relationshipalready staledated two years old.78Back to the Contents Page

BRAGGADOCIOChess playing Death-- no, the reverseDeath sitting decked out and self-satisfiedin black no mandatory top hat but a shroudshouldering a cowl.There stereotypes end --appearances have to be kept uptho' hardly any cinematic gnarled fingersof Baron Samedi famerather pudgy digitals reflectinggentile prosperity(after all, Winners do take allhis fellow satanists bank on it).Of course, such things are fictitious.Death plays no favourites (and waitsfor no man when rivalling Time).Still, parlour games are one indulgence.Hardly comforting to know human beingsfunction at one purposewhen this Hallow of Hallows puts on the smirk.Dalliance with the victim is the upshot --the chess motif again.Sift thru the chicken bones a mite --let the chump stir the rubble of his dreams.Something of gallow's humour or gangster largesse.Offer a stiff drink (brandy will do), one last cigarette.Then, too, for beaten gladiators toiling bravely theapparent rewards accelerate. Truckloads of flowersat the funeral, for instance. Preferential treatment forthe guise or mercy must be kept up.All lies in appearances. Prepare the feast. Sit theguest of honour on a splendid cushion, then serve updish after sumptious dish.Dining splendidly on one's own childrenunbeknownst is a favourite -- maddens the victim noend.Brief success turning to bitter sawdust is the suprememoment of ecstasy. Serves precisely as metaphoricextension of all earthly reward as illusionary. (Adelicious ruse borrowed shamelessly from fellowrepresentatives on Earth --the Sicilian Mafia.)Further spin-offs centre about the Absurd But spareus juvenile intrigue with petty omens like a bird loosein the house. Rather, a swift check-mate served up inthe best Grandmaster tradition is more a propos.Therein lies the jest.Workaholics and their polar opposites, the dead lazy.effortlessly come around. When realization hits homeall distinctions blur. No difference. Sharp laughterunceremoniously greets even the self-composed.Especially intriguing are the ambitious. Endlessquirks really.Concerted mockery recreates further patterns offutility.Basic strategy remains unchanged, though. Disguiseis paramount.Dress her in robes of tarter gray,implant a slight smile, then beckonfrom around each corner.Create a maze, but attractive-like with flower pots.Faint knockings behind every door. A cooling breezeoverhead.Genuine affability like an open air Swiss cottage in asummer meadow.The greater the false hope, the greater the finalsquirming.Funny stuff, for even Death at one remote corner of hisbeing partakes in occasional mirth (why not, with hismonopoly intact on everything else).81Back to the Contents Page

Chess playing Death-- no, the reverseDeath sitting decked out and self-satisfiedin black no mandatory top hat but a shroudshouldering a cowl.There stereotypes end --appearances have to be kept uptho' hardly any cinematic gnarled fingersof Baron Samedi famerather pudgy digitals reflectinggentile prosperity(after all, Winners do take allhis fellow satanists bank on it).Of course, such things are fictitious.Death plays no favourites (and waitsfor no man when rivalling Time).Still, parlour games are one indulgence.Hardly comforting to know human beingsfunction at one purposewhen this Hallow of Hallows puts on the smirk.Dalliance with the victim is the upshot --the chess motif again.Sift thru the chicken bones a mite --let the chump stir the rubble of his dreams.Something of gallow's humour or gangster largesse.Offer a stiff drink (brandy will do), one last cigarette.Then, too, for beaten gladiators toiling bravely theapparent rewards accelerate. Truckloads of flowersat the funeral, for instance. Preferential treatment forthe guise or mercy must be kept up.All lies in appearances. Prepare the feast. Sit theguest of honour on a splendid cushion, then serve updish after sumptious dish.Dining splendidly on one's own childrenunbeknownst is a favourite -- maddens the victim noend.Brief success turning to bitter sawdust is the suprememoment of ecstasy. Serves precisely as metaphoricextension of all earthly reward as illusionary. (Adelicious ruse borrowed shamelessly from fellowrepresentatives on Earth --the Sicilian Mafia.)Further spin-offs centre about the Absurd But spareus juvenile intrigue with petty omens like a bird loosein the house. Rather, a swift check-mate served up inthe best Grandmaster tradition is more a propos.Therein lies the jest.Workaholics and their polar opposites, the dead lazy.effortlessly come around. When realization hits homeall distinctions blur. No difference. Sharp laughterunceremoniously greets even the self-composed.Especially intriguing are the ambitious. Endlessquirks really.Concerted mockery recreates further patterns offutility.Basic strategy remains unchanged, though. Disguiseis paramount.Dress her in robes of tarter gray,implant a slight smile, then beckonfrom around each corner.Create a maze, but attractive-like with flower pots.Faint knockings behind every door. A cooling breezeoverhead.Genuine affability like an open air Swiss cottage in asummer meadow.The greater the false hope, the greater the finalsquirming.Funny stuff, for even Death at one remote corner of hisbeing partakes in occasional mirth (why not, with hismonopoly intact on everything else).81Back to the Contents Page

DRESS REHEARSAL"The universe is expanding".There's cause for reflection and bound to do wondersfor "who am I" queries.At this late moment on the Celestial Clock, man isn'tsure if he's stumbled into a Black Hole or just thedebris from the Big Bang Theory.Many of the earth's residents desperately want to beE.T.'s -- travellers with carte blanche passportswelcomed in any galaxy. Therein lies the ultimatetwist to "getting away".Alas, what if we're alone?What if the universe expands so much it forgetsthere's an inhabited world and obscures the planetfrom our collective vision? Sobering stuff.Meanwhile, on a spaceship earth preparations areunderway. Preparation to abandon the planet.Preparations to forget life is a serious matter.Preparations to drown protracted speculations aboutexistence's intensity.E.T. mania is carrying the day. People adorn stuffed,life-sized dolls of imagined creatures on thedashboards of their cars. Children queque up forhours to get gingerbread designed from scary,monster dough. Everywhere, the question oneveryone's lips is "how many of'em are there"?When will contact be made? Will they want to throwin their lot with mankind or "take over"? After all, it'sour Arc. No one seriously wants reminders of VonDaniken's chariots riding again or the genetic mumbleabout intergalactic breeding.Going to bed with E.T. is too much. It's the OuterLimits. Propriety still has some hold even if MarianEngel did slip up and get it on with a bear. At leastthat was recognizable earth life. Darth is too much ofa transition even if it's only a One Night Stand.E.T. is just like Bambi.He wants to go home.And alone.He's not interested in sex.Too many other myriad problems are floating in hisadorable, gelatin head. Surely earth women can relateto that. Surely, if the universe is expanding, then it'sbecause of intrigue in high places. Because cosmicparticles are hammering out new definitions. Anyoneof a thousand theories.Star Wars can stuff it. We want "peaceful" contactand on our terms. Ask Orson Welles.Or H.G.Wells.Time machines are old hat and another invasion inNewark is too much to absorb.With NYC across the river, they've already got all theaction they can handle.We like our extraterrestial life tailormade andpreferably in our own image. We're prepared to acceptthem if they conform to stiff criteria. They have to belike us and prepared to cooperate. Seeing eye dogshelp the blind, horses were good draft animals forcenturies. We might even want to decorate it like theHindoos do elephants; make it into a "religious"procession such as a Roman Triumph. It would be thesame for outer space visitors. No mutants or RovingIntelligences allowed. Earth is "off limits" tomarauding predators -- we'll fight at the suggestionthey're here on "reconnoitering missions" as a preludeto Conquest or the Bermuda Triangle is one of theirmany "staging areas" or dress rehearsal sites.Earth for humankind carries more immediacy than"Canada for the Canadians". If they are "out there",they'd better behave.Hollywood's got it all figured out.There's no shortage or scenarios.Life support systems will be rushed wherever there isa sighting with artillery back-up.The Pentagon is in control.The Moonies have asked to be informed.Crackpots the world over await deliverance.The Earth has big plans for the visitation.Contact would displace Ihe Copernician revolution as"a first" in blockbuster events: edge out Columbus'hat trick, even erase Caesar's Gaelic campaigns.Such things are no longer "relatable".Every school kid can fathom "aliens" even if he can'tdecline a Latin noun or understand the causes of theRenaissance.Unveiling the first spaceship would cap theevolutionary quest for Enlightenment or realization ofa greater Oneness.The universal thirst for knowledge would be satisfied.Still, our trek to the stars would turn in on itself if theygot here first. Something like the Seminoles arrivingin Paris in the 13th century overland from Nice orfinding an orangutan piloted the Viking ship, SuttonHoo, into Vineland. It's barely credible and has to beremade into "tangible" dialogue. No sapient, redpuddles or Dryads need apply. Fuel up theCrematoria. Break out the electric cattle prods. Theymay be common as blades of grass in a meadow but it'sour show. Orange Pekoe intellects will naturally besuspect. Benign intelligence better be the order of theday.Earth is a "closed shop".Everything Koltur. Everything above board.No renegade "interpretations".When will the Juggernaut be?Human nature is nothing to toy with.82, 83, 84Back to the Contents Page

"The universe is expanding".There's cause for reflection and bound to do wondersfor "who am I" queries.At this late moment on the Celestial Clock, man isn'tsure if he's stumbled into a Black Hole or just thedebris from the Big Bang Theory.Many of the earth's residents desperately want to beE.T.'s -- travellers with carte blanche passportswelcomed in any galaxy. Therein lies the ultimatetwist to "getting away".Alas, what if we're alone?What if the universe expands so much it forgetsthere's an inhabited world and obscures the planetfrom our collective vision? Sobering stuff.Meanwhile, on a spaceship earth preparations areunderway. Preparation to abandon the planet.Preparations to forget life is a serious matter.Preparations to drown protracted speculations aboutexistence's intensity.E.T. mania is carrying the day. People adorn stuffed,life-sized dolls of imagined creatures on thedashboards of their cars. Children queque up forhours to get gingerbread designed from scary,monster dough. Everywhere, the question oneveryone's lips is "how many of'em are there"?When will contact be made? Will they want to throwin their lot with mankind or "take over"? After all, it'sour Arc. No one seriously wants reminders of VonDaniken's chariots riding again or the genetic mumbleabout intergalactic breeding.Going to bed with E.T. is too much. It's the OuterLimits. Propriety still has some hold even if MarianEngel did slip up and get it on with a bear. At leastthat was recognizable earth life. Darth is too much ofa transition even if it's only a One Night Stand.E.T. is just like Bambi.He wants to go home.And alone.He's not interested in sex.Too many other myriad problems are floating in hisadorable, gelatin head. Surely earth women can relateto that. Surely, if the universe is expanding, then it'sbecause of intrigue in high places. Because cosmicparticles are hammering out new definitions. Anyoneof a thousand theories.Star Wars can stuff it. We want "peaceful" contactand on our terms. Ask Orson Welles.Or H.G.Wells.Time machines are old hat and another invasion inNewark is too much to absorb.With NYC across the river, they've already got all theaction they can handle.We like our extraterrestial life tailormade andpreferably in our own image. We're prepared to acceptthem if they conform to stiff criteria. They have to belike us and prepared to cooperate. Seeing eye dogshelp the blind, horses were good draft animals forcenturies. We might even want to decorate it like theHindoos do elephants; make it into a "religious"procession such as a Roman Triumph. It would be thesame for outer space visitors. No mutants or RovingIntelligences allowed. Earth is "off limits" tomarauding predators -- we'll fight at the suggestionthey're here on "reconnoitering missions" as a preludeto Conquest or the Bermuda Triangle is one of theirmany "staging areas" or dress rehearsal sites.Earth for humankind carries more immediacy than"Canada for the Canadians". If they are "out there",they'd better behave.Hollywood's got it all figured out.There's no shortage or scenarios.Life support systems will be rushed wherever there isa sighting with artillery back-up.The Pentagon is in control.The Moonies have asked to be informed.Crackpots the world over await deliverance.The Earth has big plans for the visitation.Contact would displace Ihe Copernician revolution as"a first" in blockbuster events: edge out Columbus'hat trick, even erase Caesar's Gaelic campaigns.Such things are no longer "relatable".Every school kid can fathom "aliens" even if he can'tdecline a Latin noun or understand the causes of theRenaissance.Unveiling the first spaceship would cap theevolutionary quest for Enlightenment or realization ofa greater Oneness.The universal thirst for knowledge would be satisfied.Still, our trek to the stars would turn in on itself if theygot here first. Something like the Seminoles arrivingin Paris in the 13th century overland from Nice orfinding an orangutan piloted the Viking ship, SuttonHoo, into Vineland. It's barely credible and has to beremade into "tangible" dialogue. No sapient, redpuddles or Dryads need apply. Fuel up theCrematoria. Break out the electric cattle prods. Theymay be common as blades of grass in a meadow but it'sour show. Orange Pekoe intellects will naturally besuspect. Benign intelligence better be the order of theday.Earth is a "closed shop".Everything Koltur. Everything above board.No renegade "interpretations".When will the Juggernaut be?Human nature is nothing to toy with.82, 83, 84Back to the Contents Page

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