In Case You Missed It


In case you missed it, never fear:

I wrote a thing you’ll find right here.

But doubly miss it, have no doubt

By missing it, you’re missing out.

In case you missed it, be aware:

That thing I wrote is all still there.

Again you missed the thing I wrote?

You cannot miss you missed the boat.

In case you missed it, I’m the worst.

My things I share with shameless thirst.

It’s time I must insist I face

You missed it’s never NOT the case.

In case you missed it, never mind.

To tell you more I’m disinclined.

The things I write do not exist.

In any case they won’t be missed.

Eine Kleine Esa-Pekka


I must confess that lately I have fallen-in

To swooning over Esa-Pekka Salonen.

Conductor and composer and artiste.

Makes other maestros wish they were deceased.

Now Alsop’s such a genius with a score

Her Rite’ll leave you sobbing on the floor;

And corazones melt for Gus the Dude,

Whose Ludwig’s always lush and well-shampooed;

And oh so hard does Rattle shake and roll,

His Planets will profoundly tilt your pole;

And Alan G. can truly hit the spot

With tender touches on your Turandot;

And how the mighty Mikey Tilson Toms

Gets bloomers drippin’ when he’s droppin’ Brahms!

No question, all those cats can sure conduct.

But next to Esa-Pekka, they are fucked.

Of course, I cannot say I’ve heard

His records or his shows.

Not the concerts he’s conducted,

Nor the works he did compose.

I’ve never heard his music,

But I love him just the same.

For my heart leaps up in rapture at

The music of his name.


He’s such a bad-ass muthafecka!

His name’s a train upon a track!

A chopping block! A thundercrack!


It may be rude, but what the hecka!

His name’s a froggy mating call!

A piston pump! A bouncy ball!

A squeaking cork! A scratching cat!

A frying pan of bacon fat!

A roaring hearth! A racing horse!

A secret agent’s frantic Morse!

A marching corps! A muscle car!

It ain’t no standard repertoire!

It’s sibilants and voiceless stops!

It’s snaps and crackles! Later, Pops!


He’s serious as a heart attecka!

His name’s a skipping phonograph!

A clanking chain! A smoker’s laugh!


He’s bumping like a discotheque-a!

His name’s a sonic masterpiece!

It blows the Für right off Elise!

Arranged for something xylophoney,

It might resemble Reich-a-roni!

With organ backing (LORDY BLESS!),

It might just pass for Ollie Mess!

If belted on a Broadway stage,

It might be Cats as sprung from Cage!

Repeated for an hour or three,

It might be Glass as sung by Glee!


It’s all I hablo, parle, and spreche-a!

To country hick or city slecka!

To Mrs. Right or marriage-wrecka!

In Mission Hills or holy Mecca!

In trailer park or posh Tribeca!

I don’t mean any disrespek-a,

But break me off a double-decka

Eine kleine

       Hunka hunka






His name may well be super-commonplace

In Finland and in furthest outer space,

But I’ll forever hear it as, I hope,

An onomatopoeic magnum ope.

Said Hotty Take to Thinky Piece


Said Hotty Take to Thinky Piece:

I look Monet but feel Matisse

Said Thinky Piece to Hotty Take:

All pies contain a secret cake

Said Closey Tab to Forcey Quit:

An axe with wings’ll up and split

Said Forcey Quit to Closey Tab:

The Kit Kat fears the Chocolate Lab

Said Hashy Tag to Clicky Bait:

Does Rock ’n Bowl beat paper plate

Said Clicky Bait to Hashy Tag:

The major lift, the minor drag

Said Linky Share to Screeny Shot:

The sage recalls what thyme forgot

Said Screeny Shot to Linky Share:

The finest hat still envies hair

Said Crowdy Source to Livey Stream:

This riding crop’s for whipping cream

Said Livey Stream to Crowdy Source:

You can’t re-gift a mouthless horse

Said Timey Line to Newsy Feed:

My candles burn with wickèd speed

Said Newsy Feed to Timey Line:

O swinish prince, this pearl is thine

Said Lifey Hack to Proey Tip:

Our mother tongue gave Freud the slip

Said Proey Tip to Lifey Hack:

The paddle speaks by talking smack

Said Longy Tail to Tippy Point:

My rule of thumb is out of joint

Said Tippy Point to Longy Tail:

The hammer’s coffin needs no nail

Said Starty Up to Leany In:

The hand that feeds was once a fin

Said Leany In to Starty Up:

Was Indy’s grail a Solo cup

Said Growy Brand to Gamey Change:

My Cumberbatch is acting Strange

Said Gamey Change to Growy Brand:

An ostrich helmet’s made of sand

Said Deepy Dive to Springy Board:

If walls could talk we’d all be floored

Said Springy Board to Deepy Dive:

Well print is dead but ink’s alive

Said Pitchy Deck to Dealy Flow:

I feel Magritte but look Miró

Said Dealy Flow to Pitchy Deck:

All shirts contain a secret neck