This must be a week devoted to writing poems for our about me. I’ve just discovered an odd bit called Brian Kim Stefans (Nebraskan Misfit) at a blog called carton’s book of merz, with the notable line “as shed gecko permutes us.”

I heard earlier in the month that I am included in Kent Johnson’s massive book Epigrammatitis: 118 Living American Poets. It’s 266 pages and “fully illustrated.” I’d buy it except that 1) I almost never buy books anymore, being broke, 2) I suspect that his epigram about me is somehow telling me I’m a weenie even if it seems ok on the surface, or 3) several epigrams directed to my friends are simply telling them they are weenies. Of course, there is also the possibility of 4) severeal epigrams directed at people I don’t like are telling them they are weenies, but there aren’t a lot of people I don’t like, and I’m not sure I’d want to wish a Kent Johnson epigram on any of them.

And earlier today I had three poet friends over for Korean food: Ryan Dayley, Lynn Xu and Juliette Lee (who brought the food) and they got it into their heads to write me an elegy, which appears below. I’m not sure I deserve such, uh, affection? I’m just glad I “excited the cherries” though I wonder if I could be arrested for that. 

An epigram, an elegy and being called a “Nebraskan misfit” in one week must be some kind of record. I feel almost as fulfilled and recognized as a Flarf poet!

An Elegy for Brian Kim Stefans

A cherry grenade, high tops, yellow pads, marzipan.
Between a coover and a morrissey, lies compromise
And then they loved him.  And they embraced him, over the high fences.
As a snowcone in a hurricane then high tide!
Holy rollers, mine bicycle placates my tubular maneuver
And then the fog came.  And then the flowers.  The flaming stroke. 
Softer rocket how. Made up sweeteners, a sleepy eye.
Galant Russian exports, thrust fist German into lunfardo vocality
And then the healers for cooler love, invoked a more radical God.
An out of key panda cub gave it up first. She said.
Plug it in and it gets public
And then they loved him.  And in the vast plains, the braver flames.
Golden monkey, sing it again.
For coin, couldn’t see the cup’s bottom
And in the sex of the players.  And over the bleachers.  Excited the cherries.