Molly Gets Letters

The letters we get go from A to z with twenty-four stops between
like the apple eaten in the thoughtless morning
or the zoological metaphor that gives the conspirators away
like a violin "giving itself to someone"
in a French "new wave" movie of the 1960s.
Get over it.
Dear Molly Arden:
What's your real name?
What's your position on Lebanon?
Can I petititon you later on?
Did you go to the mall to protest the war?
Dear MA,
Are you a housewife in drag?
Are you a husband in disguise?
Am I wise?
How can I save my marriage?
Dear Molly,
What do you do when the dog barks?
B stands for B, C for codpiece, D for dingus.
Dear Molly,
What does M stand for? Does A stand for it?
When you stand, what is under you?
What don't you understand?
If I type real fast "poems" comes out "popems."
Is that what you mean by the enrichment of errors?
Sincerely yours, Molly.

Dedicated to the One I Love

Let's start with you, Elizabeth or Margaret or Catherine.
Go wish, but no dish.
I am also dedicating this to such poets of my non-acquaintance
as Woody Allen, Ben Bernanke, Rosemary Clooney,
Bobby Darren, Everyman, Frankie Frisch, Gary Giddins,
Robert Indiana, Heidi Julevitz,
Galway Kinnell, David Lehman, Maureen McGovern, and the N word,
Barack Obama, Jackson Pollock, Queen, Russia, Paul Simon (the Senator),
Twyla Tharp, Uncas, Venezuela (pre Chavez), Lee Wiley,
X, Yale, and Zeus.
Now that's what I call a self-portrait.
Thanks, Jim.
My favorite rhyme of the day is "jealousy" and "lousy."
OK, but let's say she knows that if he
goes to the party with the congresswoman from Virginity
one of them is going to emerge from the bedroom
with egg on her face, and then what?
Are you surprised to hear that Hillary Clinton
is going to run for president?
So, too, is Barack Obama even though
his middle name is Hussein and he admits
to smoking grass and also doing a little blow
as a young man. It may work to his advantage.
He's a nice looking man, and I like what he said
when they asked him whether he inhaled.
"That was the point," he said.

My "Career"

I began by feeling sorry for myself and then I realized
how beautiful I was bathing in a Greek island
while old men watched like the elders watching Suzanna.
Let them look.
Today I decided that I would do what I really wanted,
but I couldn't figure out what that was. Any suggestions?
An allergy attack in a public place is an embarrassment
that happened to me but my date was too busy watching
the Knicks lose to the Celtics to notice my tears.
I didn't want my career to flourish, which is probably
the secret of my success. It's like playing hard to get.
It won't work unless it's sincere.

Good Morning, Contessa

Good morning to you, 2007. I hear they're running a poetry contest at the Best American Poetry web site (www.bestamericanpoetry.com) and I may enter. But in the mean time and all time is mean, here's a little contest for youse, contessa.
Who wrote these lines?

It lives less in the present
Than in the future always,
And less in both together
Than in the past. The present
Is too much for the senses,
Too crowding, too confusing --
Too present to imagine.

What does "It" stand for? Who wrote these lines? What is the title of the poem I am quoting? Anyone who answers "Burnt Norton" by T. S. Eliot wil be disqualified. For extra credit, disregard three of these questions and write a one-paragraph prose poem defending the proposition that "carpe diem" as a strategy will not work in "modern" times. Be sure to define "modern." Hint: it will be easier to answer if you. If you see Kay tell her. Down the slippery slope we slid. See www.slope.org for more along those lines to be read while drinking fine wines. Check out www.mipoesias.com for a trip to the moon on gossamer wings. Consider www.operationpaperback.org for a better idea for what to do with those used books of yours you can't bear to toss.