It’s not like in the good old days you know when poetry was quite the honorable profession, being a public nuisance and all, –clicking away on a manual typewriter, “Klack! klack..Klackety-klack!” making a noise in the hall. 468 Fell Street #9. Nowadays, making a poem would require doing THAT in the street; and, with so much noise out THERE, fabricating a good lyric..or even a bad one! couldn’t raise an eyebrow. To be relevant, anyway, it would have to be some kind of performance art-thing; as, these days, nobody needs MY sensitive and oblique perceptions about spiritual stuff, in generous, poetic constructs of rolling verbiage that address those matters concerning the eternal, space-beyond-space idea..get all THAT handled. And what a waste anyway; why, of course! some free-market/opportunist-slob will likely appear, grab the typewriter from my lap and use it in a better way, for a cudgel! battering-ram banging me over the cranium with it and knock me senseless to take my change..brain cells if that’s all the capital EYE got, but pretty hard to steal THEM; Travelers’ Checks? So who ever said poetry was fun? (or easy). So I’ve been cogitating, working out a gimmick for a new poem concept, a plan! and it probably stinks, but let me run it by you anyway. I have this old white cat who is an inheritance from our old friend, Steve, who used to read my olde stuff; and REALLY think about it. And he’s white – White Like Me – about as white a sheet, sheet of typing-paper (8 1/2 x 11). Well he won’t roll up in the typewriter that good; but maybe I can write a poem on him. I can make a stencil that looks like big, messy typewriter-letter strikes and spray-paint a poetic statement on the side of him. Can that work? Oh! just when the inspiration’s hot, the dog wants out. Well, there’s no helping it, when they gotta go, they gotta go. Will you please excuse me? be WRITE back, mm. Okay I’m back. It’s Fourth of July weekend and I needed to raise the flag in dawn’s early light! so now that’s handled..it’s all about the First Amendment, anyway, for what THAT’s worth. And I’ve been thinking about what to write on the cat, and THAT will have to be pretty short since a cat, or, a kitty, if you will, typically has very little patience for poetry (imagine THAT). We used to have this orange cat with nice tiger stripes and on one of his two sides, like it’s a billboard, it plainly read, “I O U”. That was HIS poem; until one time the coyotes made a quick poem of their own out of him that the neighbors probably heard being recited. And that’s one poem that likely earned a well deserved universal rejection from poetry critics for its decidedly user-unfriendly quality. But I digressed. The poem on the cat will have to be good and it will have to be short. That’s clear. And as every poetry lover knows, there’s no money in it for the poet; unless a contest is announced with entry fees and promises of a wide readership for the lucky winner! published on a kitty. THEN we can make some money. But that still doesn’t provide the opportunity for MY poetic input..and that can’t stand. So how about this? a diverse, renewable, multiple-culture, dual-use cat combining poetry AND performance art. All in one location! Only a hep-cat, kitty-kat, beatnik type of guy – such as myself – could come up with this..while the cat was napping, I mix up some plaster of paris and slap a dollop of it on his tail, stick a fresh-cut lock of my beard whiskers in it, it sets up solid before he can wake up from hunger, and..Voila! A TAIL OF TWO KITTIES, waving proud like a flag in the back, there. To honor freedom! artistic freedom..for artists!! Hey, Steve, you like? Ee-eh!