someone to face the life of pants and stare at me

I seem to be getting into a habit this year of skipping MegaPoMo one day and posting twice the next. My apologies to those of you who were hoping for a steady, daily supply of MegaHAL poetry. Anyway, since all known participants in MegaPoMo 2007* are posting this stuff to LiveJournal, I thought I'd ask HAL what he thinks about this place.

Livejournal is a locked room up there
that made the old tug
at dusk they gather
enough power to prescribe what
this new-built city from both work and play
everything's a-ok
friendly brown glass balls from which his teddy observed the world.

You know, that almost makes some kind of sense.

Silhouetted against the words,
and little streams are freighted with a friendly chicken
with a livejournal account, you can see that you will go with me.
free me from the spirit,
for casey, mighty casey, was advancing to the hudson pours,
under the light.

There's a chicken with a LiveJournal account? Or perhaps I should ask, given how many people's dogs and cats and bunny rabbits have LJs: you know of only one friendly chicken with a LiveJournal account?

Capricorn: just the facts, man. Investigate and nail down specifics
today to get from me

no other words, not all business deals and get
involved in the dance is altogether flame!

with a livejournal account, you can have the dream,

the hand of honest feedback. It's not permanent.

I'm no Capricorn, but I suspect it's time for me to quit asking now. If someone with a permanent account wants to send feedback, it's up to them.



* These participants being... well... me, myself, and I.

sing now the frogs who will not atone

So I've done rather less than I'd hoped to do the last couple of days, but at least I walked about 3 miles yesterday and probably over 2 miles today. (Unseasonably warm today, with many interesting clouds and showers of brightly-colored leaves.) I've also been doing laundry, returning library books, cleaning up some spilled something-or-other in the oven because the person who spilled it hadn't bothered and I really didn't want to set off the smoke alarm again, and... other stuff that I can no longer remember even though I was just thinking about it five minutes ago. Oh, I do remember frightening a couple of girls yesterday. It was unintentional, honest! Yes, I was walking behind them everywhere they went in the neighborhood, but that's only because they were walking along the shortest path home from the store. Not sure they believed me when I tried to reassure them that I wasn't following them, though.

Oh well. Here's some more MegaHAL before bedtime.

¾ Cup olive oil
near my bosom.

pretty pretty robin
near the heat after you've added the turkey. It will be mine
burned like the wine of your sides
and frightened miss muffet sat on the still house
and now the children know
i look on the wind
to the ribs of animals
and ask the isps to shut
within the moon, perhaps a skein of stars
to the short jump and go

backward against the shadowy mass of stars winking out.

Y'know, that sounds remarkably apocalyptic for something that mentions Little Miss Muffet. I rather doubt that even the largest ISPs have the power to shut a skein of stars within the moon at this stage of history, so perhaps HAL is looking forward to some time in the distant future.

Little miss muffet sat on a train, listening to me, yellowed
with that old time rock'n'roll
call me a smile
thank you very sorry to come and go.
loosen your hands, and, if you want,
drawn from the old farm kitchen
lilac, skimmed the apple rose that
regulates fear, a new planet, the people
may cry out in its own connections
tab, click settings. The settings should match those
endangered species numbered individually
and vivid with all regret;
o death in the little liquor store. I argued
it saves my life.

I'm somewhat surprised to discover that the line "thank you very sorry to come and go" is a MegaHAL original. It may not be as funny as lines like the one involving Cheney and an army of zombies, but it sounds more like something that a human poet might actually put in a poem.