IT -

"the mad poet faktr..."

Some good points you have raised. I think there is a voyeur-participator complex to this proposition that is, on the one hand, perfectly suitable for self in the general mix of all other selves, but which on the other hand edges with a range from some pure pathology in the brain itself to those fog-prone stuffs we call thoughts, from which we narciss, play games, exercise the more coniving or brutish aspects that resides variously and varying within our Ergo von Ergo.

A lot could be made of the Smarty-cat (Ergo von Ergo - see whata mean!?) poem. Ted raised some sustantial good points in the matter; one could, as I did in my initial 'critique', scewer with feathers to stir-up the (grimly) comic to this or any other poem at all. "Pure humor" wears a Hyde beneath whatever skin it exposes. Given the nature of poetry, these conditions can go exponential in a variety of ways, some particular to all, some perculiar to an interested few. But this is what makes poetry's seance work. Thank God, the gods, the gawds, and all the Sheesh-O'Mighty-Damns mixed in muddle's mettle eh?

Am out of computer time. Best to you and yours.

Carpe Verve.

Doug