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...

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 81

DAY 81: 250,000 families crying

they're everywhere, I'm one, however

however, we need sports, health

I guess is first, food water air

warmth shelter and then sports

the ridiculous restrictions

are hurting the national games

baseball, soccer (European football)

and curling -- we need our heroes

-- we need something to root for -- 

think of the damage to the psyches

of the young, think of the damage

to the economy you're doing

with your 'dangerous to reopen' crap

can't you see how strong athletes are?

if one is ill take him out, DL

but why isolate the whole team?

what are you mad scientists

thinking, haven't you heard that

the virus is over (almost) --

impact on profit revenue margin for

ownership group and shareholders?

lost salary/or not lost salary

for players and coaches? -- we

pay you play -- corona be damned

get your butts on the field! Sons

of bitches! I order you! we need to

wave flags, cheer, wear strange outfits

(so what if tens of thousands gather, 

our choice, free country), even in a

pandemic, death everywhere, we have

our priorities.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 80

DAY 80: I need to start sniffing

Adderall just to keep up --

the new strategy seems to be

cook the books, Cook the Books --

economic numbers down -- reopen

even if a lot of people die

because we'll just stop counting

they didn't die, numbers don't lie

we have great numbers, the best

you say outbreaks in factories

no, that never happened, ask the

authorities, ask me, never happened

I have the books with the numbers

they're all good, good books

people in churches die -- no

I think not unless they are

bad

reopen whatever the cost

because you can hide the cost

say it's low, low cost

budget, economy class, bankrupt

their problem, mine is fine

my organization has great

numbers, just look here

you think those are fake

you're fake

and the federal investigators

are all my buddies, very fine

people

so we're doing great, never greater

great again, America first

master race, master race.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 79

DAY 79: Hi. I'm Corona Virus

aka COVID-19, and I'm a DJ

singer (hip-hop, rap, freestyle,

dub) and actor. I want to let y'all

in on a little secret -- I was born

and raised in West Oakland town,

California, Mandela Parkway,

and I been around.

I come from the hood but now

I live in Bel-Air so good, with

the big shots, gangsters and real

dealers -- so I wants to tell y'all

this: this plague it kick yo' ass

I got it bad and I couldn't

breathe and you know a black

man 'I can't breathe' mean what

and I pretty tough mutha but

this plague, man, kick my ass an'

kick yo' ass too -- whether you

black or white, rich or po'

Cali gold or Missoura where my

kin from, whether you smart

or dumb, progressive or conser-

vative -- man, this is the Great

Equalizer, we been fighting for

equality for 400 years, now it

come over a weekend, Fri. none

Mon. some, we all everybody

get us our 6 by 3 in the end, you

think it's hitting black people or

old people -- wait a few minutes

it'll get around to y'all whoever

you is.

Peace Out.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 78

DAY 78: Numb to the Numbers

number and number we read/hear

60 70 80, 1 million 2 3 4, who cares?

if we're brave and not caught

up in a web of words, games, jokes

and desires all in a doomed

attempt at pathetic escapism

then we listen/read the numbers

and the tragic stories of death

and pain behind them and even

then, even then, we cannot hold

in our small brains all those

numbers -- like the poor who

follow the rich, she's a millionaire

he's a billionaire, they're trillionaires

-- what does that mean when you're

making minimum wage and

shopping at FoodMaxx to save

50 cents per can of tunafish --

it's all nonsense, too out there.

now some people today are

taking advantage of the new

(premature I say) loosening

of restrictions to go out and

smell the flowers out there

but me, I'm not a guinea pig

for government researchers only

interested in numbers, I'm

staying in because: I am not

a number; I am a free man.

Free, but increasingly numb.

The Quarantine Chronicles, Day 77

DAY 77: Down at the cemetery

they're almost breaking down the gate

got dressed up and washed and

bought flowers to go with prayers

like Father, Mother, I miss you so

not like of all the good people pressing

to get in pushing others aside

with their lopsided masks

there are some contagious who

don't know that they came

to the cemetery today to send

others (t)here tomorrow, I hope

it's not a hot spot, a red zone, but what

irony, no respect for the new hours

nor for a line of who's first

social distancing is out, gotta

get to the tombs, gotta say hello/good-

bye to those who can't hear

say 'I love you' to those who don't

care, walk the tiny streets and

alleys of the mini-city of monu-

ments to the dead, by the living

pushing shoving yelling protesting

to get in.

I watched this on television

because I'm in no hurry to get

in, I don't need flowers, or

nice clothes, greeting or laments

-- I only need the sun, the air

and that I get

elsewhere.