The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 96

DAY 96: Tomorrow the walls come down,

God ordered us to walk 6 times around

the city walls and on the 7th - pling - the walls

done gonna come a-tumbling down -- if

you got faith, if you believe

just a little more.

There's still sickbays full and

positives galore, no vaccine or cure

all that masking and distancing isn't

working, in the US the fascists

cause riots in the streets, cities on

fire, no masks can hide the cops

with their badges taped, we know

you, you will not reform

the KKK on our watch

society of segregation, no, 

our rights, human rights

civil rights, free speech,

the right to assemble

peaceful protest will prevail.

But the virus marches on too, in

town, in jail, in paddy wagons

police tanks, many will be touched

ruined, killed by COVID-19 and

TRUMP-20, the terrible double whammy

one-two punch, especially after

tomorrow, no holds barred, battle royal

last one standing gets a chicken

tomorrow we're free at last

free from death for the crime

of being black, free to rampage

for being a cop, free to kill

hands in your pockets, smirk

I don't want to go out, I don't

want to die, I don't want to

be invisible, mostly, I don't want 

to go on a ventilator because

the last words of the United 

States of America will be:

like George Floyd (murdered by

Derek Chauvin), Eric Garner (

murdered by Daniel Pantaleo), Elijah

McClain (murdered by Woodyard,

Rosenblatt and Roedema)

and so many more:

I. CAN'T. BREATHE.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 95

DAY 95: ¶ Everything will be okay --

You stand alone in a gorgeous

park centered on a deep green

lawn and your loves are coming

they run towards you (past and

present) to kiss and embrace, as do

your family members (dead and

alive) plus all your friends and

acquaintances from your whole

life including elementary school

all hugging you with warmth

revealing secrets
about everything.

¶ Everything was okay --

We lived in such a wonderful

world of restaurants and bars,

multi-screen theaters and churros,
economic security, college loans,

comfy cars, enormous supermarkets,

so much fun and goodness before

the dark plague hit

ruining everything.

¶ Everything is okay --

In the bathroom with the door locked

many things can happen

if you crouch on the tile floor

to feel its cold you can scrunch

in the corner to feel your own cold

the empty hole inside your belly

that all those snacks cannot fill up

because you just watched everyone

you know (with a couple exceptions)

vanish into thin air, so all you can do

now is vomit, bleed and cry,

expelling bodily fluids for nothing

in return.

Nothing is okay.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 94

DAY 94: Dazed, dazed, we're dazed

we go on with chores and interactions

we eat times 3 and sleep in fits

we remember to brush our teeth

or not but we're in constant shock

shocked, stunned, gut-punched, dazed --
it's not improving.

100,000 Americans dead in 2 months

so many more victims falsely divided by nation

united by horror -- the Black Death --

how can we work, how can we

study, how can we imagine a future --

even when we do it

we don't know how.

to live in a plague, to move here

to there, day to day, person to

person, with love, with kindness

with hope -- what hope? 100s

of 1000s dead -- a tragedy too large

for us to embrace and without an

embrace it will never

go away.

it's right that we're this way

the only reaction acceptable

the dazed generation

out in the street, with friends

pretending they're not

all pretending it will end
making jokes, smoking,

knowing that this is our life

now and always.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 93

DAY 93: 1990-2020 growth,

change, progress, hope.

-- I can't have AIDS, I feel great.

-- I don't need a mask, that's a hoax.

-- Is it transmitted by kissing or shaking hands, nobody knows.

-- I can't get COVID, I'm young and strong.

-- It'll be over soon and we can toss the damn condoms.

-- It'll be over, maybe already is, let's go out and get an aperitif.

-- No, I won't ever, I can't wear a helmet, it messes up my hair.

-- Seatbelt? No way! It wrinkles my shirt. In a wreck it'll cut you in two.

-- Airbag, why? Just another rip-off. Life is an adventure, live dangerously.

-- No. This mask makes my shades fog up, I can't see well. I want my freedom: I CAN'T BREATHE.

-- It's uncomfortable. I feel very uncomfortable.

-- I know several people who've died.

-- I know a lot of people who've died.

-- Here in the Castro, entire buildings were emptied of occupants.

-- Dying alone in a hospital bed, seeing only someone's eyes.

-- Let's build a movement.

-- Please give generously.

-- My friend died, my brother died.

-- I don't feel so good.

-- Let's build a movement.

-- Gay cancer, it's only gay cancer.

-- Only the flu with a fancy name.

2020-2050 growth,

change, progress, hope.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 92

DAY 92: How to Die -- let me count the ways

there's heart disease and cancer,

broken hearts, cancer on the presidency,

suicide and car wrecks (sometimes the same thing)

mass shootings and cop killings -- stay away from

crowded places -- there's domestic accidents

terrorist attacks, choking on steaks, poisonous

snakebites, meteorites and lightning strikes,

being pushed off your balcony by your ex-

and there's COVID-19, the novel corona-

virus, a worldwide pandemic that started

in 2019, that is so big-ass and bad-ass

that it's beaten all others in the ratings

-- The Rapture is here at last, now

we can all go out with a Big Bang

not like my cousin who just got news

that her breast cancer treatment (boring)

will take about 5 years (too long)  -- but that's 
here in Italy, in the USA (being made greater 
by the minute) healthcare is fun, everyone has a gun

so at any time, things get rough

don't get tough, pop one in your mouth

like medicine to avoid the agony of defeat

float into the clouds, angels play harps in skimpy

outfits with no underwear, goblets of 100-proof nectar --

bliss awaits, if you know how

to die --

Non-COVID-ly.

I don't want to die.
I don't want a gun.
I don't want COVID-19.
I don't want to be number one in the ratings.
I don't want heaven.
I don't want to complain.
Please let me remain.
Please help.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 91

DAY 91: La chiacchierata, that's a chat

about nothing in particular, less is more,

S.I. Hayakawa, my lousy university president

then lousy state senator, but a decent scholar

had a useful linguistic theory -- pre-symbolic language,

meaninglessness, words that don't stand

for anything, could just as well be grunts and

cooing, could be a language no one under-

stands, therefore we -- especially well-educated

white men over 50 -- stupidly maintain its

uselessness -- la chiacchierata doesn't serve

any communicative purpose, so we will not

participate -- Oh, but Hayakawa shows that

it does! The meaning behind meaningless

words is the most important of all --

community-building, relationship-building

-- I grunt and coo, I talk about what a shame

and where you been and did you see the game

-- I mean I like you maybe -- I want us

to be friends maybe -- even with neighbors

I don't like, even people I'd never choose ...

I must engage, in a chiacchierata, talking

from one balcony to another, from behind

masks or downstairs by the cars -- Italians

need this like air, they know that when

100,000 souls die and rise we'll need our

neighbors, even those with whom

we only ever talked with

about nothing at all

just to find the courage

to bear witness.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 90

DAY 90: Aw, screw it, let's just pretend

pretend our lives will never change

our climate will never change

let's get a spritz and gab about

our high school teachers with all

the beautiful people wannabes

we don't even like very much

(hoping always everywhere for sex

with almost anyone -- instinct rules)

every time, let's go into the street

meet and greet, get plastered, get

laid, live to fight another day -- or not --

at this point, who cares?

I'm fed up and don't need an excuse

-- some girl, some skinny girl

is talking about change, life-style

change (masks indefinitely, distance

forever -- what a crock!) and something

else I can't be bothered with -- climate

change -- I mean I'm pissed off about

price change, I just paid $10 for an Irish

coffee that last year was only $7, so there --

this bullshit about climate change --

let somebody else deal with it -- fossil fuels,

big f-ing deal! -- let governors and captains

of industry take care of it -- I'm sure they will --

I just want to talk to that blonde and

offer her a $10 drink, chat and hope

to get lucky.

Live or die, luck, good or bad,

that's all.

Bitter Pills, ready to swallow

The book that I announced months ago has arrived in my hands. Corona-quarantine caused a short delay, but it is now out and available and hungry for your eyes.

How to get a copy?
1. Amazon.com or Amazon.it has the book (see E. Martin Pedersen, Bitter Pills) for $15 or 13.81 euros. Shipping is extra unless you're lucky, then it's free. I'd love to get some sales here and even a review or two to boost the work. Gotta keep the editors, Dr. Agrawal and Dr. Kumar, satisfied.

2. CyberWit.net is the publisher, located in Allahabad, India. Go to their site and order from them. No idea what shipping might be. Ask them, they're very nice. And a very respected publisher of poetry from around the world.

3. You can get the book from me, martinpedersen1255@gmail.com, at a slightly reduced rate. Send me your address. Shipping in Italy will not be charged, but I may have to add something for shipments abroad. PayPal is easy, but we can work out payment somehow.  I'd be happy to hear from friends and strangers, just to chat too. Plus, I'll sign your copy if you'd like.

What is this book anyway? It is a small book, so you don't get your money's worth page-wise. Poetry-wise I hope so. It is a book of small poems, contemporary Japanese forms, haiku and mostly senryu. That means that you take a pill and then wait for its effect. Don't take too many all at once. Digest them slowly, make them last like candy. The mini-poems in this collection (52) were all published in international journals, so somebody thought they were okay. Let's see what you think.

I wrote these haiku for people to read and enjoy, even with their varying degrees of bitterness. I hope you will. In fact, I'd be thrilled.

Stay healthy, stay strong, stay safe,
Martin

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 89

DAY 89: In Milan I had to go out in the

street, I encountered human beings

there, I did not want to meet them, we

looked at one another suspiciously

over our masks, cold eyes only

met, connected and then disconnected

quickly as we passed going elsewhere.

Eyes over masks, no facial expression

to give a clue, it could be this way

for the rest of our lives, eyes

over masks, a smile so hidden, maybe

a hint in the little lines, it's hard

to hear 'I love you' whispered under a mask,

hard to see clearly when it brushes

your eyelash, eyes only then

until there's a cure, until

a vaccine liberates our primal urge

for connection, interaction, reciprocation

if it ever does, until the next virus,

maybe this is post-Aquarius, an Age

of Subtlety, of picking up on the

barely expressed, look into my

eyes/soul, can you tell what I think

as I speak in a foreign language,

or else we judge others by how

they dress, I hope not, make

eye contact sustainable.

I hope we learn to dive

into the deep pool in

another's eyes to swim

there for the time of

a glance, to understand

who is who, who is attracted

to you, who is true and who

wants to cheat you, only to eat

to beat you, to use you

I hope we can know each other

passing in the street

by eyes only peeking over a mask

as expressionlessly

we greet.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 88

DAY 88: There's so much screaming

so many important people pretending

to do something, doing nothing, screaming
kids blocking the roads a beer in each hand,

fatcats blocking the roads begging for

handouts after a life of tax-evasion,

politicians arguing but they don't

remember about what, children

crying that the ice-cream's run out,

mourners bent over fresh graves in

prayer -- what if we cut out

all the noise, all the news, it's

winter time 2019, let's all, us

bears, go into hibernation, a

natural instinct we cannot ignore,

dig a hole and crawl inside

snore

lose some excess body-fat

hug our cubs

spend a season underground

sometime, I presume, we'll

come back out

into the sun

but we're not thinking about the

future

just getting lazy

and shutting down

systems to conserve power

no strain, no expectation

curl into a ball

it's easy

underground, almost like in a grave

but one that you will emerge

from in due time. To a

different world.

Peace.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 87

DAY 87: The Itch -- you go to your

doctor who tells you you'll be

fine as long as you don't scratch,

it's a matter of life or death.

Don't scratch that itch! -- it may

be unbearable but do anything

to avoid scratching, hand-cuff

yourself behind your back -- at home 

you remember that warning but it

itches so bad, it's getting worse

-- an obsession, resist, I can't

yes you can, excruciating, just

a short soft scratch, more like

a rub, or else tear off the skin

with a fork, don't do it, resist

the urge, the natural urge

your body communicating a

need, a human need -- we are

not machines -- you must

not scratch! can you hold

out? for how long? if you'll

scratch sooner or later any-

way, you know ... everyone else 

is scratching, everyone else

takes care of their business --

just because it was a doctor

to tell you, a second opinion

would be logical, know how many

times they're wrong, hell no,

I'm scratching, don't! I can't

take it anymore! you'll be sorry!

it might turn out okay, no

guarantees, life is short, have

some fun, tomorrow we

may all be gone -- go on

itch, scratch, itch, scratch.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 86

DAY 86: After 77 days, 77 days during

which I did not breach my threshold

I did not open my safety door

(except 4 times for the grocery kid)

I did not chat with neighbors

from one balcony to another

I stayed home

like being sick

without being sick

to avoid being sick

to help others who are sick

(my little brother far away)

some days I didn't even want

to look outside (we have a wonderful

view) like a smart turtle

sliding further and further

into its shell

until

the surgery, in Milan, fly up

one eye one day one eye the next

four more days recovery fly

back home --

that is a story

worth telling

the blind given

the gift of sight

the dark turtle shell

progressively darker

until the light of a

dangerous trip

a total shift

of perspective

a story that could include

risk of infection

and medical miracles.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 85

DAY 85: Answer the call --

Can I have a few volunteers --

I need volunteers for an important

experiment called reopening, RE-OP-EN-ING,

it's not exactly a scientific

experiment, that comes later,

maybe, it's a people's experiment

I need a number of volunteers

at least ten thousand, maybe

ten million, to walk outside

into the yellow fog of the plague

your prize? -- burgers and fries.

the losers? -- the ones who die.

but the best thing is that you get

to play yourselves on a film set

a reality show, the world's biggest

of the daily life of your past self

not a thing changed, like your

bedroom after your first semester

at college, oblivious to the pandemic

the what? I need a haircut

I need a Mai Tai, I need a new tattoo

that says: "I survived the 2020 Crud "

because you're strong, righteous

and brave, brave enough to

answer the call, rush out to

the mall, spend your broccoli

doing something, anything

to make those cash register bells ring

Get out, get happy, get naked, dance, sing.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 84

DAY 84: Where is that land where

every boy and girl has a lite

beer can in their right hand? Where

study is easy with Wikipedia

cut-and-paste, don't want to

get too smart do we, out on a 

boat, 25s-30s only, all smelling

good, dancing to black music of

their parents' era, where's the en-

richment, where's the mindfulness?

-- oh, there's an online class

for that -- the easy hate, spin

the wheel, this year we hate

... you! (just like last year) and 

the easier stupidity which

is so much fun -- let's go

on a Bigfoot hunt or

read the Tarot cards

more muscles, more tattoos --

you want basic information

who is ... Antonio Guterres?

(let me check my phone, no)

10 out of 10, 1000 out of 1000

married to Melanie Griffith

or third base for the Royals

is that a test? did I pass?

I didn't study. I was out partying.

you should have warned me.

there was a test, but I don't

like tests -- I like beer,

I like beer, don't you like beer

Senator, don't you like beer

and money, I like money, don't

you like money too? -- 

where

will we get the strength, skill

and intelligence we need

when 
we are tested?

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 83

DAY 83: chorus: Words, words, words

Words, words, words

Words, words, words

Words, words, words.

Why can't we do better?

I've met some very intelligent

people, very skilled professionals, those 

who do good work, articulate in describing it

people whose decisions are based

on strong ethical principles, 
we should be ready for 
anything, able to cope 
and problem-solve.

What the hell? It's all broken

down, nobody seems to know

anything, we're swimming in

a pool full of toys, junk, empties and untruths.

-- We are human beings!

-- We can do better than this!

Flailing, cowering, hiding from

ourselves, hiding in our former

habits to negate a new abnormal world order.

-- What is change? A pandemic

alien invasion, worldwide

financial collapse, climate dis-

aster, power shutdown, flesh-

eating fungus, and worse?

 -- What did we think? It would

go on forever, no change is good

change? We don't control our

destiny, but we adapt, don't we?

Don't we? -- We are human beings!

lost children, falling and incapable

of rising up again, what happened

to our strong noble race?

Why can't we do better?

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 82

DAY 82: An incident occurred at the Gates of Heaven. A large group of people, apparently victims of some earthly scourge, arrived all at once. Saint Peter and his collaborators found themselves in great difficulty. The normal procedures were interrupted, order became impossible to maintain. The new entries had a right to be there, but they resisted attempts by staff to enforce social distancing requirements. Saint Peter was on the phone with the Boss all day. It was finally decided that those waiting to enter should stand in an single-file line or queue, 6 feet or 2 meters (metres) apart. This was very hard to organize as there was not enough space on the cloud to form this orderly line (or queue) of so many souls. Some claimed that they had arrived first and should not have to wait as long as the others. Some wanted preferential treatment because of their saintly lives on Earth. Some merely pressed forward against the Pearly Gates. There were multiple injuries and a few acts of violence against the other entrants and against the collaborators who had never seen so many there waiting to get in. Chaos broke out. Heaven's security service was called, but it was non-existent. An explosive situation. To be continued...