Ihor Pidhainy

Trippng the Light Fantastic (Exploring Origin Stories)

 July 1, 2024, XOM

This is unbegotten,

It would be gegoten,

Or perhaps yoten,

But verboten is the word,

Not the cured cord of wood –

Try to keep up, JAD,

No need in presenting as CAD,

You are/have no DAD,

Elas, it is not to be had.

He steps out on to the stage – damn

With a big-bosomed madame Adam,

Inspiritation fills his aquatic lungs,

He lunges forward and smirks at the crowd

I’m renowned and clowned,

Wondering longingly as a cow’s cuds,

Crowned as the Universal King of all Dudes,

According to his set of partisans and kooks,

But why must we speak of Ezra’s unsold books?

Take charge, Art thou not part of the set?

What do you belong to – De-lineated Iberian village?

You wish you were a rock, base of the bet?

But now merely a stone ground to pebble tillage?

I am a Voice calling out in the Wilderness

Of the Village, wrong John, charged with idleness.

No cruising until dawn. Hobo gone along as a stage pet?

Don’t worry, I’m just kidding, they are alright,

And we keep marching to the beat of our might!

Don’t Halt the hjalte

Not sure whose voice I heard. Last night. The drainpipe was clogged. I thought it was just diction. Never thought. Punctuation is important. Is God. Does He care. Fully consider this.

Responding to too much JD “Answers” doubled (or was that two parts tonic, one part gin?)

Febuary 18, 2021. XOM

Don’t halt the hjalte

He may do some good

Mad gummer

Beat the drummer

All this for a few mouthfuls of snow

White gold drawn across your dawn

Parking lot don’t exist in Jersey

At the block you are on is not ice

Thick – so thick – that he thot

His tembly liddled fingers

Craved crawfish and crappies

(sip your tea, eat your poppies

Rolls in the snow with pappies

Exposed to a wind all hoppies and happies)

Harpy.

Hippie.

For the pain of god, get off my sinus

Es ist nicht butter under brot

Her your fighting over?

The Burning Sun over the Ota River

The loving response to the first half of the collection Plot Twist by J.D. the image is borrowed (it is an homage for the dead, you might say) and the rest imagined from the cauldron that we are enmeshed within. 

XOM July 1, 2021

Give way, my child, for they are calling me.

Do you not hear?

At least you cannot feel them,

Fealty is a tough gig

And for a young one, exploitative.

Use your expletives.

Tell the Whole, wide world to go

F itself

E itself

C itself in the mirror

U itself under a bridge

D itself until death do us part.

This is what the burning sun feels like

Fuck Ota.

Fuck Niagara

Fuck St. Lawrence

The burning backs, blades, bellies

Turn a darker shade of pale

The old will die

I might be among them

But this is our calling

Not our fault per se

But we share

In our ancestors’ evolution

The drive of our species

To dominate

To think into exclusivity

Child, remember me

When I’m gone.

They came because they had purpose.

Next it will be your turn to burn.