h o m e........
p a s t   i s s u e s....
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l i n k s





It all began the morning Toad greeted him with What up?
Leave it to Toad to turn breakfast into performance.
But, then he forgot to Tivo Dancing with the Stars. Again.
You can picture the scene: a remote, a fireplace. A lavalamp,

a hurl. See glass and gloop shatter. See Toad and wall weep.
Rage is the mother of beauty, thinks Frog. But, tell that to Toad
who got punched for spilling beer in the fly pudding. See Toad
watch Oprah. See Toad pray for guidance. Hi God, it's me, Toad!

The ecstatic conquest of the awful leads to salvation. Just ask Jesus.
See the Christ’s whipchord. See the Christ drive the tax-man from
the temple. Go ask Jesus about thaw and burn. Better yet, ask Frog

about the socket of desire. Woo-wee it’s dark in there. See Frog want.
Rage is the stepson of ruin; the fuckbuddy of sorrow. See Toad deal.
See the peace that passeth. Tell Toad it's not about survival but resurrection.


                  *  God Sonnet Frog  *

                                                    [begin octave]

• The Earl of Surrey composed the first sonnets

• In the English language. Sonnet comes from suono,

• The Italian word for sound. The sonnet reflected

• God’s order. Frog once heard the name of the Hebrew [this is a quatrain]


• God could not be spoken. It makes Frog wonder:

• If that god made a poem of his name, could he read

• It aloud? Cantante Domino, Toad always says. That Toad . . . [Latin]

• Hey, Frog exclaims, God and Toad rhyme.


[begin volta (Italian for “the turn”)]

He is a fool which cannot make one sonnet, says Donne.

And he is mad which makes two. Frog contemplates [John, metaphysical]

• This as he waddles over to the pond. Peers in.

• His other self stares back from the dark depths [this is a tercet]

• Of the water’s surface. Take me to you, it says to Frog.

• Blow, burn and make me new. Make me, it says, Make me.


No one spreads your butter like Toad.
His heart is jelly, his tongue is jam.
He’ll nibble the crust right off of your bread.
Give him your fruitcake, and he’ll give you his ham.
No one spreads your butter like Toad.

No one pumps your engine like Toad.
He’ll coax you slow or rev you fast.
He’ll be the pickup, you be the bed—
His hand the throttle, your body the gas.
There’s no one pumps your engine like Toad.

No one knows your toolbox like Toad.
He can loosen a nut or tighten a cog.
He’ll fasten your trim, he’ll even bring wood,
But for bigger equipment, you have to call Frog.
For the biggest equipment, you better get Frog.

[                                 ]

No one could explain
why the words went missing.

One day, during a normal conversation
over coffee, our brains reached down

To retrieve ______ from the
files, but it was gone.

We all felt there was a word for the
“emotion” we wanted to express,

And yet, no one could locate it.
We searched the thick fields

Of our vocabularies, but nothing turned
up. It was buried, lost, or both.

The next day, we couldn’t find _____,
the day after ____.

There were some who never knew
the words so didn’t feel the absence.

But for the rest of us, simple exchanges became
more and more difficult,

Worse was how we talked to ourselves
about ourselves. The precision

Of self-examination gave way to
ambiguity. Everything became frustrating

in part, because we wanted the words
that had left us. We were like

a carpenter who reaches for a tool that has
always hung from the same peg

but was suddenly missing or a fisherman
searching his tacklebox for

just the right lure only to discover a blank
space where the silver hook should be.

Induction revealed nothing. Our mental sleuthing
uncovered only absence.

The next week, seven more disappeared--
and it wasn’t just ____, as you

may have heard, but _____ and ______
as well. It felt like part of

our bodies had been stolen. We miss
the words the way an amputee

grieves the toe he rarely noticed, the finger
he used only when holding a cup

or pencil. Even now, I wonder about this
poem. We have learned to work

Around the missing words, but how long
will that last? Will ____ in the future

come across these lines and find parcels of
blank spaces, vacant lots between

the dilapidated houses after a hurricane?
We ____, but so far, nothing.

And so we wait. We’ve invented new words,
but, they are probably not the same,

Which means that our world has changed. We
are _____ people. And so we wait

Either for someone to find the words
or for the words to find us:

Compass and sign, beacon and _____.
It all hinges on this--we are what we speak.

Go ahead. Sit there in silence. We know it was _____.

Copyright © 2009 Literary Pool, Inc.