Crass Acrostic for Classy Times

Stuart Ross (total sell-out) is curating an open series called 2017 Inaugural Poem. All poems must follow a certain form, which even clever and erudite readers will deduce.

It started up today, and already has poems from local titan Michael Dennis and myself.

Poets: don’t overthink this. Just write one, and send it along. This is the new BENGHAZHI. We need lots of these. Lets all cry and laugh.

~

In other news, I’ll have two new poems coming out early in 2017. In January, I will have a poem in Bywords about living in Ottawa’s Lowertown neighbourhood as someone with an MA and an an RRSP. In March, I will have a poem in (parenthetical), the periodical put out by words(on)pages press in Toronto. That one is adapted from one of the poems from my spring writing marathon, but I won’t say which. I’m very happy to be both of these fine mags, both of which have great online presences, and both of which had featured my work once before.

Before the copycats [An incomplete poem]

Little Jew on my lap, I know Canada’s old Jew of letters
certainly did worse than hypnotize his sitter to undress.
Still, I will sing his verses and praise him
as an ancestor.

Little Jew on my lap, I do not know if it is worse
if the rabbi in the news vandalized her own home
or if some genuine Nazi did. The propagandists
offer apostates absolution.

Little Jew on my lap, do you know what it means
to be a Jewish in Canada in 2016? I assumed
we were immune from future culls.

Little Jew, us big Jews
do not know what to do.
Learn to speak, please, soon.

Like magic

headlineimage-adapt-1460-high-bikini_evacuation_070615-1438110598490

Professor insists DEMOCRACIES DO NOT GO TO WAR.
Is it a genocide if everyone had a vote?

FOR THE GOOD OF MANKIND the Bikinians were relocated to a neighbouring atoll. Their Kind said, “We go believing everything is in the hands of God.” Fifteen atomic sunrises later

the place is safe enough for tourists to demystify, advertised alongside package tours to Chernobyl and Gettysburg and NAME A CONCENTRATION CAMP.

There are trees today on Bikini Atoll older than this green author. Large mammals thrive within the Cold War’s half-life. The blonde old President graces the battlefield, won’t be cowed by allegations—HE’LL SUE EVERY SINGLE ONE. Before free trips to Israel, Jewish pilgrims may pay to see a concentration camp.

An atoll is a coral tiara where a volcano was, or

an atoll is a stain where the Big Gulp was.

The benevolent general said, “In our country we have a saying: YOU CAN’T GO HOME AGAIN.” The benevolent government said, “Have a half billion,” then skimped on stamps, closed the office, and the benevolent society loyalists said, “Cash for cheques and envelopes? Didn’t y’hear, we just promised the vicitms a half billion?”

“Didn’t y’know a lagoon’s a lake where there was a volcano? That pristine situation a by-product of primordial violence? The Jews got Israel, the slaves some Freedom. Imagine what beauty’s due for America again.”

~

The prompt was things you cannot see in their entirety, like atolls. The photo is from the Associated Press.