MICro (stealth) PHONE

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Friday afternoon Denise and I drove to Phoenix in the most horrendous varietal winter weather I’ve ever encountered. Thank Goodness Denise, who is a superb driver AND grew up in northern Arizona, was driving. We went there to attend the Caffeine Corridor poetry event, and the only real time-chunk I had to do my daily journal page was at the event itself.

Here are the words:

My, mic time’s a bootstrap upon which to strop
Itinerant MINSTRELS will posture & cough
Compelling distracting one mundane one boffo
Roughedg’d as a sledge or as slight as chiffon
O open thy honeycomb’d throat–then begone

Though it sounds as though Mr. Snidely Dismissive might have penned the words, the real viewpoint character is the one who’s about to perform–and is worried about the audience reaction to HIS performance, and is consoling himself with the range of talent that has so far graced the stage.

The triple acrostic refers to the fact that at this poetry event there is no microphone, yet the first segment of the event is still called “Open Mic.”

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