From the Walls of Mr. James Odett

Willow crested...

Willow crested
Willow bough,
Who will caress
The willow now?

O let us take...

O let us take to Montreal,
I hear it’s wonderful in July.
Let’s wander through their streets and we’ll
Feast on nothing but their wines.

To a Duval:

To a Duval,
I saw tomorrow in your eye, Jeanne Duval.
And I mean no disrespect by that nickname.
But the way you walked,
Your swing stalked on long legs,
You put me at a disadvantage.
Perhaps your lips are less forgiving.

Divergent Evolution

Today, in the cafeteria at work, I made an Appleman. Three small apples stood staring at the people in the room. Watching while they pushed chunks of whatever passed their gulping vocal chords, I sculpted my Appleman. The room was calm when the Appleman spoke, but whatever it said I didn’t understand because it spoke applese.

Dear Education Minister Dave Hancock

Dear Education Minister Dave Hancock,

We, at the Council for Dissemination and Misappropriation, applaud your
efforts to eliminate mandatory education. The Council has long
campaigned against such force-feeding of outlandish concepts such as
evolution and Newtonian physics. In early 2002 we fought (albeit
unsuccessfully) for the exclusion of the theory of electromagnetism in
public highschools. We, at the Council, do not believe that electrons
are “naturally” attracted to their complementary protons, and as such
are against this worshipping of “Naturalism”, and its close cousin,
“The Scientific Process”. We, at the Council, frequently step outside
our 14th floor office window and DO NOT succumb to gravity. It is,
afterall, only a theory, one that the Council does not wish to follow,
and nor should such preaching be compulsory in schools. We commend
your decision to ammend Bill 44 to accomodate all world views, so as
we can choose which parts we wish our children not to understand or
decide for themselves. The Council for Dissemination and
Misappropriation hereby announce that Dave Hancock, along with our
newest inductee, Gary Goodyear, will be honorary members in the CDM’s
prestigious Teapot of Irrational Thought. The CDM will assume you
will support our latest campaign for the exclusion of the theory of
thermodynamics in the upcoming months.

Thank you for your unbridled determination,
James V. Odett

Dear Victoria General Hospital Foundation

Dear Victoria General Hospital Foundation,

This email is to confirm your order of 15 front row tickets for the
May 23rd demonstation of His Ulna’s “quantum sound treatment”. The
tickets can be held at the Centennial Concert Hall until picked up.
Please arrive at least a half hour before the event begins to ensure
adequate seating (tickets are going fast!). Please give
confirmation#23652A to the salesperson at the event. Or, as an
alternative, the tickets could be mailed to your 2340 Pembina address.
The total cost is $375 and can be paid at the event. Please let the
Council for Dissemination and Misappropriation know if you would like
to reserve any more tickets.

Thanks for you enthusiastic support,
James V. Odett

Dear Victoria General Hospital Foundation

Dear Victoria General Hospital Foundation, In light of your sponsorship of the noted and celebrated hustler Deepak Chopra, I am to assume this prostituting support will extend to other organizations or thinly-veiled charletons. I represent His Ulna, James V. Odett from the Council for Dissemination and Misappropriation, and hereby ask for your unthinking support in the promotion and advertisement of a new therapy His Ulna calls “quantum sound treatment”. This newly discovered therapy has been shown evidentlessly to combat muscle distrophy, artheosclerosis, acne, immune deficiency, and cancer (to name a few!). I send my congratulations that the Victoria General Hospital Foundation will be associated as a sponsor for all upcoming advertisements and events. There will be a demonstration of this new therapy on May 23rd at 8:00PM at the Centennial Concert Hall. Tickets will be priced 25$ per person. Donations can be made to Apt#508 75 Donald St, R3C 3X4, Winnipeg, Manitoba. Thanks for your unbridled support, James V. Odett

Coachella

From Winnipeg in a car loaned
To Coachella, California going
To see the deep-voiced Leonard Cohen.

the switch don't control the lights

In 1980 at the University of Sussex,
Surrounded by structuralists and epigeneticists,
Lewis Wolpert, distinguished embryologist,
Stood up and yelled out at all his antagonists
That development was controlled by genes,
But at the time nobody seemed
To agree, but now 30 years since,
Nobel Prizes have been awarded to the discovery of PAX6.

(And they said the switch don’t control the lights)

And evo-devo made flies that grew
Legs out their eyes and lizards with two
Heads that acted independently,
Hyenas that don’t have vaginas, rotifers grow spines,
Conjoined twins show how evolution is defined.
The two-legged goat could hop down stairs,
Could our ancestors have also been so impaired?
Well its probably unlikely, but it just goes to show
How development in genes is powerful.

(And they said the switch don’t control the lights)

Genetic assimilation seems almost Lamarkian,
But phenotypes will eventually hark back
To genotypes, like the blue tit that learned to drink milk
By prying open the bottles left on people’s front steps.
Eventually cream pilfering would become innate,
Genetic changes help the fittest stay great.
And so Wolpert’s been vindicated by the scientific community,
But he sounded like a quack while he flashed the university
Saying, “The switch don’t control the lights?”

I'll leave lightly...

I’ll leave lightly,
Lengthened, opened, varied, empty.
Yearn on (and) under,
Frightened or rounded, every verse, every rhyme.

O Majnoun!

O Majnoun! that sings that dead leaves fly higher.
O Majnoun! that speaks also between words.
O Majnoun! that does not sleep and pulls out the brain’s eyes like the moon does the tides, back and forth, and crashing on barren land.
O Majnoun! that dances (that portion of the floor that grabs the ballerina’s foot, that ache on bones and muscle).
O Majnoun! that consoles the silence of winter.
O Majnoun! that (once again) rises in the spring.

Pinochio

Pinochio, as well you know,
A lie he could not tell.
Or else his nose, the story goes,
would grow as long as Hell.

But what’s not known will fill this poem
About that playful puppet.
His escapades, the writer gave
Were lies themselves, goddammit!

It wasn’t his nose that would grow long.
It was, of course, his wooden schlong,
That when he did not tell the truth,
Would grow and grow right through the roof.

Well the puppet fell for a local girl,
Whose face was framed by golden curl.
He likened her to the rarest pearl
Shaped in some unearthly world.

He tried to woo her,
She had no clue or
Didn’t want the puppet’s hand.
But then one night,
To his delight,
She offered up a one night stand.

‘No strings attached?’ she softly asked.
Of course the puppet did agree.
She let down her hair and underwear,
‘The carpets match the drapes, I see.’
And she replied, ‘Now, lie to me!’

He told her lies and falsities
Which filled her with an ecstasy,
But he could not stop
His verbal onslaught.
Each lie was more extravagant
Than the last and quite flagrant.

He lifted her up toward the roof
Until she broke, collapsed in two.
Her right side fell on his right side.
And Pinochio lay back, said ‘Oh my! What a ride!’