Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Monday, June 17, 2024

Dear Reader

 

There you are, dear reader, demanding that I account for both myself and my famous affair with Basil Pennington III, father of the English Haiku-Sonnet. 

Nosy little parker, aren't you? Hmph. My air of mystery is positively in tatters.

You'll have read, I'm sure, my first published volume, Cargo of the Heart (1905), a collection of some two-thousand love poems, all of them concerning my furious devotion to Bazzy (as I called him privately). Tiresomely, most people only know the opening poem, Honeymoon In Hell, which was written shortly after I had sustained a closed head injury. 

My Arrow-collared Adonis stands in fading dusk-light
your chin tipped down, lighter flaring up,
capturing my heart as your pince-nez does your nose
while on Love's nectar'd wine we sup!

Yes, well. My early efforts were heartfelt if a trifle lacking in restraint. But you want to hear about Bazzy (as I called him privately)! You may not know that Basils senior and junior were fierce tyrants, captains of industry, and both afflicted with a ferocious case of skin blemishes in their youth. Imagine their chagrin at the arrival of this perfect, square-jawed, wavy-haired, strapping example of manhood amongst them. Imagine further his utter disinterest in the family undergarment empire. 

Undergarment wizards, bitter devils dancing lugubriously on Profit's stage,
Blind behemoths blundering benightedly
Dismissive of Delight, scornful of sage
poring over ledger books, squalling, squealing and squinting short-sightedly!

I guess I told them ! For months in 1911 we closed ourselves off in a lovely seaside cottage, seeing no one but each other, except for the odd Ouija manifestation or mushroom hallucination, as one will. 

Love! Bliss! Oh Rapture!
the wet raindrop on the stalk
that grows proud and tall!

Of course, my volume of erotic haiku entitled Cherry Blossom Lobotomy was seized by the port authorities in Boston and ultimately banned as both pornographic and jejune. "Everyone's a critic," I lamented to Bazzy (as I called him privately). We were both convinced that Basils senior and junior had had a hand in that nasty bit of business, but we could never prove it, and besides, I was occupied with my hybrid petunias and Bazzy (as I called him privately) was shortly off in France fighting in some silly war. If you like, pick up a copy of my collection of war poetry entitled Ka-Boom! The New York Times reviewer wrote that the collection convinced him that there are worse things than death, but I never understood what he meant. When Bazzy (as I called him privately) was killed, I couldn't imagine anything worse than his having been run over by a Paris taxi while on leave from the Army Bureau of Statistics located behind the lines in wine country. I delve into this terrible period with the epic poem Drunk In Public, which won the Delirium Tremens Award for excellence in incomprehensible gibberish. I've always been very proud of that, though the arcane terminology eludes me somewhat. May I present you with a copy? I can have one of the staff sign it for you if you like. No? Don't be shy, dear--I insist!

Anyway, that's the Reader's Digest condensed version of my sweeping affair with Basil (or "Bazzy" as I called him privately) Pennington III. If you'd like to pry, er, read further, see if you can find a copy of Cornerstone Poems--the "Found" Poems of Constance MacFarquhar-Pennington, A Complete Compendium With Bibliography, Personal Correspondence & Rare Photographs (Crumbley J. Pepperpot and Phyllis Anne Von Vandekamp eds. Redundancy Publishers New York Montreal London Belgrade and Hong Kong 1932.  I saw a copy on the website Remaindered Oblivion not two weeks ago!  Ta now, dear. Hmm. Thank Heaven and Heloise that the little twaddlehead is gone.  For pity sake, I never even actually met Basil Pennington III, or "Bazzy" as I imagined I would have called him privately, had I had the chance. No matter. Time for wine and work! I've got a new book underway and cannot be disturbed. 
________

My rather lengthy poem (?) for Word Garden Word List--Gracefully Insane.


 

9 comments:

  1. Still spluttering at the hilarious punning and snide asides, as I call them privately. Fortunately I had set down my coffee mug before reading so no trip to the Emergency Room was necessitated. My favorites are Ms. MacFarquhar-Pennington's titles( KaBoom! and Cherry Blossom Lobotomy in particular) and the splendid throw-away lines like "...except for the odd Ouija manifestation or mushroom hallucination, as one will..." A guffaw-laden tour de force of the sublime and the ridiculous in a honeymoon from Hell, Shay, as only you could write it.

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  2. intriguing writing and a real maelstrom of words and images. Amazing.

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  3. OMG OMG. OMG. How utterly delightfully funny/charming/perfect is your epic "EPIC!" Lady Whistledown could take lessons from YOU.

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  4. This is such an entertaining tale. Big smile all the way through. My fave line: " which won the Delirium Tremens Award for excellence in incomprehensible gibberish". Loved it.

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  5. I laughed out loud at "Cherry Blossom Lobotomy" and I'm still grinning. The whole poem is hilarious, sarcastic, and witty. The way you weave a story, pushing past the limits of the ridiculous and the true, in fine detail, is phenomenal, Shay. I read this, enraptured, from one line to the next, like a starry-eyed kid at story time, Phenomenal Storytelling Poet (see what I did there ;-)).

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  6. Side-splitting funny, Shay, every word and phrase placed with a sardonic eye for flummery and the much-to-be-desired skewering of embellished memoirs by who's who's and wannabe's. What a character you've spun for us, and through her, the imagined "Bazzy," bless his heart!

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  7. What a rich and humorous prose poem - a great use of your words - Jae

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  8. First of all your wrote a haiku...never thought I'd see that, and it is fabulous! I so love this. It make me laugh, has me wanting more. You are an amazing story teller. I'm jealous :)

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  9. I've always loved the phrase "Nosy Parker," although I think we can say likely a first to ever appear in the same text as psychedelic mushrooms! Ah, poor Bazzy, we hardly knew ye. With his stolidity, I fear for the Citroën 2CV taxi - it never had a chance. On to wine and work indeed!

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