if the

if the day is much too hot
tell it off with all you've got

if the sun bites on your neck
tell it to go down to heck

if the sweat seeps from your pores
scare it off by slamming doors

when the cold sweeps it away
compain about that for a day

pull the

pull the stockings off your eyes
tell me what is real
is it the picture postcard look
or the aura of light
that busts the borders of the living
is it the picture drawn of shadow
or the one scratched out
clawed out
by the birds in your brain

if i had a thing to see
if you did not know it was
if i called it my picture
if you could never know it so
i would have my own vision
you would have your own as well
unseen by me, unseen by them

there is no deep well
there is no amazing omniverse
there is just this picture
howling with all its centuries

a creak

a creak here and a crack there
that's how you know that you have a body
an ache here and a pain there
that's how you know you're alive

an itch here and an ouch there
that's how you know you are covered with skin
that throbbing pain in your temple or back brain
that's how you know you are smart

a bleed here and a burn there
that's how you know you are gifted with fingers
a sneeze here and a snot there
that's how you know you can smell

that temporary blindness and its cousin confusion
that's how you know you can see with your own eyes
the strain that it takes to get up out of bed
tells you that you have a life

this pome

this pome is a catatonic
this pome never wears its pants
this pome is bipolar and sleepy
this pome is afraid to dance

this pome is as poor as water
this pome has a painful kick
this pome has some major issues
this pome simply likes to lick

this pome doesn't like its subject
this pome takes its own sweet time
this pome is so antisocial
this pome doesn't want to cooperate

this pome is paternalistic
this pome doesn't wear a shirt
this pome claims to have all the answers
this pome hides behind its hurt

this pome doesn't have a meaning
this pome just has too much stuff
this pome cannot read a letter
this pome has had enough.

the pomes

the pomes took a trip
departed our home town
so now we have to live
without the poetry around

they took their pithy thoughts
they took their rhyming lines
they packed their feet and their trochees
they took all of their iambs

some say they were fed up
with this whole town and nation
some say they will be back in time
just took a short vacation

you might just hear a truck
you might just hear a bird
but on the streets of my home town
no poetry is heard

what are

what are we doing to the air
and when are we going to start to care

what are we doing to the ground
and will it forever be around

what are we doing to our kin
and how could we ever this begin

shouldn't we think it very strange
and when are we ever going to change

fred astaire

fred astaire
could dance on the air
his secret of flight:
he carried a light

joyce mcghee
could sweat out sweet tea
her method of making:
her twitching and quaking

jason squeeze
grew flowers from sneeze
there was a condition:
he was a magician

carol kane
turned daylight to rain
she had merely to sigh
and then look at the sky

jeremy anemone

jeremy anemone
that's his name, not what he is
marked off his territory
like a dog, by making whizz

jeremy anemone
wore a suitcase for a coat
if he had more things than he could fit
he would eat them like a goat

jeremy anemone
you might see him in the street
has a swagger step like a duck might sport
that's the webbing in his feet

jeremy anemone
he might even say hello
when he talks, you see his whiskers dance
and his beard, like a buffalo

jeremy anemone
and it's no hyperbole
takes in his walk, and his talk and his tea
his entire family tree

i'm full

i'm full of words
from top to toe
but will they tell me
what i know

upon my face
i have two eyes
but will they see
my next surprise

i have my ears
the left, the right
but can they hear
the sound of night

and in my chest
there beats a heart
but will it drum
me all apart

my pome

my pome is strong as god
your pome, a small dirt clod

my pome's writ in permanent ink
your pome in some rinky dink

my pome helps out with the cause
your pome's mostly made of pause

my pome has a lofty goal
your pome subsists on the dole

my pome writes its destiny
your pome is too small to see

my pome has a doctorate
your pome came out way too late

my pome work on many layers
your pome better say its prayers

life vs pome

life is purple pome is brown
life is zig zag pome is round

life is bumps upon the head
pome, exactly what i said

life is softer to the touch
pome risks saying far too much

life is tender, birds can sing
pome is danger, bells that ring

life is puddle in the street
pome had way too much to eat

life wears shirt that does not match
pome is writ in chicken scratch

life expensive, pay big bucks
pome directly goes to crux

life is just so many things to do
life is me and pome is you

up with

up with the very air
down with the grass stains
left with the blank of mind
right has all the brains

top with the elements
the bottom has complete control
diagonal the random thought
and center with the whole

here with a good idea
there with one not so fine
port with the clearest water
starboard with wine

degrees of the nightingale
side to side the sigh of day
roundways with I got you
and squareways got away

wallace has

wallace has a shaving kit
julie has some lotion
maggie has a patent
that will keep the earth in motion

randall has a pack of cards
silas has some booze
nora has a nose to smell
the tiniest of clues

celia has a set of brakes
maurice has some cash
lisa has a crazy ray
to turn us all to ash

byron has

byron has a tootsie roll
susan has a ladder
myron has a socket wrench
and jill goes pitter patter

conrad has a pair of skates
but likely he will lose them
margaret has some 2 X 4's
and knows just how to use them

billy has an ounce of cheese
connie has some nails
leslie has some celery
and franklin has some pails

barney has some newspaper
and lois, management skills
joseph thinks the plans won't work
and judy pays the bills

monday is the building day
on tuesday they all ate
from that side it looks crooked
but from this side it looks straight

with this

with this line i hide my face
in this one i reveal the place
in this line i give the news
and in the next i tie my shoes

with this line i go to bed
in this one i explore my head
this line has its share of hate
but the next line is worth the wait

with this line i go for broke
while this one is little more than croak
this line sparkles like some jewels
and in this line i break the rules

with this line i eat my lunch
this line contains a brilliant hunch
this line smiles just like a friend
and this line makes the pome end

which pome

which pome is this pome
the pome that is right now
is it the one about the moon
or the one about the cow

is it the pome that makes you think
or is it rather dumb
was it written under hashish smoke
or the influence of rum

is it the pome to save the day
to change the very world
is it the pome to baffle you
or make your hair ends curled

is it a pome so passionate
you read it hurling spit
or is it insignificant
but does know when to quit

i am

i am the camera
you are looking thru my eyes
i am the left and right
i am the top and bottom

i say how long to look
and now let's look at this instead
i say let's not look now
that is why the screen is black

if i do not press the button
and do not record, it might
not have happened
if i put it in my eyes
you will see it clear as night

this is where

this is where i walk my journey
this is where i live my days
this is where i sleep and waken
this is where i coin a phrase

this is where i talk and listen
this is where i feed my face
this is where i read some novels
and then explore some outer space

this is where i see forever
this is where i hear for miles
this is where i train the atoms
so they greet us with their smiles

this is where i conquer armies
this is where i bury hate
this is where i solve all problems
this is why i'm running late

if my arms bit

if my arms bit the dust
before the rest of me started dying
i could not write that letter to you
despite my hardest trying

if my legs fell and died
before the rest of me passed on
i could not walk to visit you
or run that marathon

if my eyes went cloudy and quit
before the rest of my body died
i could not look into you face
to see if you had lied

if my entire body still kept on
but i lost all of my breath
i could not whisper your quiet name
and that would be like death

congratulations morning

congratulations morning
congratulations midnight
congratulations 6 am
congratulations 10 at night

congratulations 5:15
congratulations 2
congratulations to church bells
and thank you cock a doodle doo

i'd like to shake the hour
and shake the minute hand
if they weren't circling round the dial
i'd count my time with sand

congratulations tick
congratulations tock
thank you my LED display
and thank you every clock

about me

my bladder has a certain size
when it fills i have to pee
when i pee i feel relieved
and that's what it's like to be me

my stomach can hold my food
when it's empty i fill it up
when it's full then i feel good
when i'm thirsty i drink from a cup

sometimes i am right where i am
when i'm not i walk with my feet
and then i happen to be there again
when i stay i sit on my seat

when i close my eyes it is so dark
when i open them i can see
and that's about all that you need to know
of what life is like for me

dandelion wine

yellow flower yellow flower
yellow yellow yellow

sit on the ground, look all around
see the mini suns, pick the little flower
feel the tiny power

this time of year, in some freeway medians
and yards, and places
the yellow of dandelions
beats out the green of grass

put your nose to the yellow rose
the dandelion sun, the petals
stabbing soft yellow
see all the small black bugs in the sun

a bag of flowers, a bag of yellow heads
take them home, make a flower tea
add the sugar, steep in boiling
add some yeast
make sweet wine
drink it and feel fine
from the dandelion

in that yellow liquid
in that living yellow
you will find the odor
and its cousin, memory,
of simple spring

trailer

Dr. Zork here. Yesterday the fictional animator Akre edited together a trailer of his movie Wargoon Flishe. He cut a bunch of scenes to a public domain klezmer tune.

Here is the Pome of the Day Project

i wrote a lie in my notebook
the one i bought in Nome
i wrote a lie or two or three
and called it all a pome

i wrote i reached up to the moon
and held it in my hand
i took that silver moon to meet
the island of Greenland

i made a war by getting mad
and solved it with some peace
i fried the doughnut that you ate
in last week's rancid grease

i jumped out of a hard-boiled egg
so i could say "surprise!"
my name is Ed Exaggerate
i hope you like my lies

Written in sincerity and with fingers,
Dr. Hubert Zork

the end

This is Dr. Hubert Zork. I would much rather be writing to you about why you should give a hoot about Zoot, and other jazz musings, but instead I must write to you about the animation activities of the fictional animation character John Akre.

Yesterday, Akre found that his his long renders of his last scenes had finally finished. He then animated his very last things, the last words of his book, and put it all together. He also did some work to try to filter out a hum in his on-going vocal soundtrack.

His movie is now animated from beginning to end. Now the work begins in earnest on fleshing out the soundtrack, and cutting and re-animating some of his scenes.

And now it is time for the Pome of the Day Project.

that pome kicked my dog
told me to go to heck
since that pome came into my life
i've been a nervous wreck

it made the water sour
it turned the kettle black
i found that pome and my girlfriend
together in the sack

that pome wrecked my bike
and broke the dinner dishes
it crapped on every floor but one
ungranted all my wishes

it will not leave the house
altho i do demand it
on top of this, i read that pome
and could not understand it

Written in sincerity and with fingers,
Dr. Hubert Zork

render againder

Hello all. This is Dr. Hubert Zork with another animation update.

The fictional animator Akre is still waiting for the long renders of some of his last scenes. But he should be down to the last eight hours of that or so. Soon he will be able to put those last scenes together. He cannot wait.

But how about some more animation backstory? After the sequence of Hibling films he fell out of animation for a while. We are now talking about his teens. But he did return in his senior high school year making a new film called "Return of the Hiblings."

For this film he left behind his clay characters and made new Hiblings out of styrofoam parts and pipe cleaners. He used the city set he had created for his great unfinished clay epic, and also made giant ants out of styrofoan and pipe cleaners. The ants come from another planet and invade the Hibling city. The Hiblings finally succeed over the ants with a gigantic gym shoe set up on a long cable. This shoe falls down and smushes the giant invading ants one at a time.

After this film, he signed off of animation for quite some time.

Here is the Pome of the Day Project.

i forgot the pome
that i was going to write
i had it all planned out
when i retired last night

i think it was to have
four lines at a time
the second and the fourth
would end with words that rhyme

what it was to be about
i totally forgot
it could have been real good
but it also might have not

but then the night fell down
and my whole brain went black
and so i lost the pome
i'll never get it back

Written in sincerity and with fingers,
Dr. Hubert Zork

render-a-thon

Dr. Zork is here with another animation update in reference to the fictional animator Akre.

He still waits for some of his last scenes to render. Some have taken as long as four hours to render, just a 10 second shot, but a lot of computer chewing. So he waits for his computer to crunch out those last 20 shots before he can start to edit them together and finish the show.

Here is the Pome of the Day project.

you see i've lost my head
lot it two weeks ago
and tho i'd like to shout it out
i cannot say hello

and oh, i lost my hands
the left one and the right
i cannot pat you on the back
as i usually might

and there, you see it now
i also lost my feet
that makes it challenging to walk
so i stay on my seat

and now you've seen it all
i also lost my chest
i have my arms and legs and butt
but misplaced all the rest

Written in sincerity and with fingers,
Dr. Hubert Zork

52

This is Dr. Hubert Zork, jazzz critic of the absurd, and I am here to tell you that the fictional animator Akre is on the last page of his script of animation.

Last night he found some time to animate some of the last part of his film. The animation becomes more and more abstract, until it is just the words. He did this animation yesterday and set his computer on rendering it. But his little weak computer is still rendering his construction paper scenes of the night before.

In the last episode of my commentary, I reported that his computer was taking an hour and a half to render each short shot. But that duration was necessary for some of the less complicated shots. Now it is taking more like three and a half hours for his computer to render the ten seconds shots. The construction paper must be adding so much complexity. That is what he suspects.

Anyway, it is now that time again. It is time for the Pome of the Day Project.

this is how you clap your hands
you stretch your arms out like a bird
that is how you clap your hands

this is how you ride the bus
you do not take another's seat
that is how you ride the bus

this is how you go to sleep
you turn your head into a tree
that is how you go to sleep

this is how you read a book
you run some water over stones
that is how you read a book

this is how you see yourself
you do not say a single word
that is how you see yourself

Written in sincerity and with fingers,
Dr. Hubert Zork

51

Dr. Zork is here. I could write to you about how the jazz sound goes in one ear, down the spine, around the hips and around again, back up the spine, and around the brain a spin or two before out the other ear, but instead I will write to you about the animation antics of the fictional animator Akre.

Yesterday he went at work ripping up construction paper. He is up to the last visual scene of his movie. A couple months ago he looked at a Matisse Jazz poster and at that moment thought he would do his last scene, where Wargoon and his pals make over the House of the Dead, in such a style. So he had at his command a pile of construction paper, and some scissors.

He also likes the Pink Panther cartoons that he grew up on, and many of the backgrounds for those cartoons were made from hand-ripped construction paper. So he hand-ripped the pieces of the sets for his last scene and scanned in the paper, and arranged it all by computer.

But these last scenes are computer intensive. Last night he created 27 shots and his computer is rendering them. Each shot is taking about 2 and a half hours to render, so this will take some time.

He also showed much of his work to a friend to get slight feedback. He found himself fast-forwarding thru many parts. There is so much work to do even tho he is reaching the end of his script.

In the meantime, here is the Pome.

it rained all day on yesterday
it rained the day before
it rained to make the ground all wet
that's what the sky is for

it rained a gentle pitter pat
it did not rain in sleet
it rained so many inches
but not so many feet

the rain fell on my noggin head
it fell upon my clothes
the steady sound suggested sleep
so sometimes i would doze

but now i hear the silence
the rain clouds have moved by
and if the wind cooperates
we'll see the blue of sky

Written in sincerity and with fingers,
Dr. Hubert Zork