Ailin Penlight

Jack Bommb took the light from his wife’s hand. She used to read maps at night. He bellowed like a conductor on a train,



and threw it hide and wide.

Did that munchkin penlight pant, “I think I can, I can?” Did it orbit El Tovar, E. Pluribus Unum for all to see their source? Did it go round a satellite before the mothership took lumpen home?

Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep

Clos’d o’er the head of your lov’d Lycidas?

That light was like a Wal Mart beacon whirling to the lost, “come buy, come buy.” Thanksgiving it did not say, “come lay your pence upon mine staring lidless eye.”

The country drunk rewhistled stops. “LOOK OUT BELOW” he cried. It did no good to win honorable mention, except by dispatch to 211. Only Carl Sagan could have so far outspread the sky. But ecoman would later play the slots on Neptune.

Ecoman, Ecoman, only connect. When a Taiwan lady pricks the web a woof erupts on earth. Then rising falls. This call is not an end itself, but one from up above:

Stay, stay, stay, stay,

Just a little bit longer.

Penlight studies show the connected thing. Do their part to shoot the moon. Extend that clip as rudder. Catch the drift. But malfunction forced its prop upon a ledge. It bounced off a rock like a dodo egg in the flat nosed dark

Only connect, connect, connect,

only connect, connect.

The train ran over the railroad track, but TidBetter did not see the engine crack and he had read Dark Wind. Leo opened his mouth. Happy stuffed hers with the primal vox poemato.





Mr. Dag conversed his flask. Lipsy imagined a bath in Nubian arms. Partridge piled dirt between his feet. Another played a tune upon his boot, “I get a kick out of you.” The wind chats fidgeted. The zodiac devolved.

More dark came.

Leo finished his wildlife tale. He outwheedled prickly pears.

Spiny or spineless I can’t make u up my my y ynd.

Remember that ledge. We’re talking dodo egg. Not Einstein. Dodo no read. Dodo look like egg. Be stone. What rock or egg ye know. They did not see the rock invite. Little Lady Taiwan come. Grind powder for her nose.

Slow surface slid to air.

Inertia, that once failed zen, transferred.

Of things that fall one moves.

Le Roi!

The light lay stunned, but the stone egg sailed.

Long live the king,

Down, down dodo fell to Leo’s song. Would have smashed him in the head had he not bent over for coffee.

That stone knew more of land than Voyager.

It sang a song of glory.

The stone on mountain’s chance of flight! What astronaut saw earth grow big? States of consciousness descried! Not gently into night, it came with fire, sailed Leo’s shoulder, hit the saucepan handle.

High upon a mountaintop a stone may dream of flight. This we respect before it hits our heads. But the sauce pan neither dreamed nor tried to move.

When the quantum clangs that steady state will change.

And so the saucepan flew.

A black hole flipped quark on Lipsey’s front, which stream Newtonicly transferred to mouth.

Tobacco juice shot straight in TidB’s eyes.

The saucepan landed on his brow.

The rock then landed in the bed of coals.

Sparks came down. Dark screams roused mules. Picture books gave words.

Sparks are falling.

Mules are bawling.

TidB is waving blind.

Grad students fell in all directions. Fire coals took buggies. Phoenix scalped the Patagonian hump. Who will pay the bill? There is no Jack Bommb in the book.

Shall we send a platitude down? Attach it to a rock? Better the trouble we already caused before it’s worse. How ’bout, “in response to your inquiry that knowledge is now given?” How about, “Pilgrim Bones?” How about, “Baghdad Come!”

Injections or a pill would serve.