Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Oh, There Are Hearts

Commentary: Beware the tongue! when Kissin' the King.

The Boy with the Broken Heart and the Boy with the Overflowing Heart sit, tables apart, at the Howard Johnson Breakfast Buffet. You can tell who's who by noting which of the two presides over a plate heaping with home fries and ketchup and which of the two presides over a plate of melon cubes and yoghurt. You can tell who's who by noting which of the two has groomed himself a fancy facial hair display and which of the two has allowed his facial hairs to grow unkempt like a weedy lea. There are girls, oh, there are girls. There are hopes, oh, there are hopes. There is bacon, oh, there is bacon. And there are Hearts, oh, there are Hearts. One of these Hearts is Broken and one of these Hearts is Overflowing. The two Boys write poems. They write sheathes of poems. In one of the sheathes, the Heart Overflows. In the other sheath, the Heart Breaks. Perhaps you can guess which of the two Boys wrote which of the two sheathes. Things tend to correspond -- to correlate -- to arrange themselves for devotion -- in these ways.

The Boy with the Broken Heart wins the Pulitzer Prize. Well, not yet, but many years from now, his Collected Sheathes will triumph. He will be easy to spot in a crowd. He will sit in an armchair surrounded by Boys and Girls who wear goatees on their chins and flowers in their hair, respectively. "Whipped cream," he will say, and "My time in Venice," and "Grotesque dreams." Those sitting about him will say, "Ohhh." The Boy with the Broken Heart will be awarded an Endowed Chair at a Prestigious State University. It will be called the Broken Heart Endowed Chair in the Literary Art of Poetry Sheathing, and all will be well in the House of Babel, as they say, in the song. But what of the Boy with the Overflowing Heart? He grows bitter. In his opinion, those who advance in the world of poetry sheathing say the word "F**k" too often and curse the current president. There are no chairs for him, poor soul, cept the ones at HoJo's. As my friend, F. Nouns, would say: "There is a morale to this story." There is another kind of Heart out there. There are many such alternatives. Cultivate one of them. Then sing yr @&*$ing song.


Buck said...

Sheathes of poems? Indeed.

"In the broad ships of tha Achaians, I was the lone Trojan, and I got used, boy howdy." --Hipponax 438 BCE

mark wallace said...

Think the boy with the overflowing heart could use a job fixing my overflowing toilet?

fitz_ said...

there is, i've been told, time to eat homefries; there is time to overflow ketchup.
There is time for model airplane racing, there is time for rye toast. there is time for ballgames.
there is time to attend neighborhood watch meetings; there is time to caress the american flag. there is time for black tea; there is time for jury duty, to put hand on bible and mouth the words. there is time for over-easy.

there is time for a side of bacon, and blueberry pie.
there is no time for goatees.

sausages said...

Does this mean, then, that the heart of the fool lives in the International House of Pancakes?

And, dude--the Boy with the Broken Heart eats a heapin' plate full o' sausages-- whaddayou tawkin'??


Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

Hipponax Plumbing Service will service thine terlet, I'm told. Yr serviceman will be the dude with the goatee who otherwise sups at IHOP. Yup yup. Yuk yuk.

The controversy brews, otherwise. Oh, it brews.


Mira said...

This blog is silly. Long live silly. Tootles. Mira

RITA said...

Hey, hey, Mira:

Your attic or mine??

Mira said...

Now now or Mama'll spank. mira

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

No spanking in no attics. Y'all be cool. ----BA

Mauve said...

Good words.


Thanks, Mauve. -------BA