Colleen McKee to Read at Duff's in the C.W.E. on Monday, November 22

Colleen McKee will be one of the featured readers at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, on Monday, November 22, when Chance Operations turns the reigns of control over to CJ Smith of JKPublishing.

The reading will also feature Sean Arnold, Michael Castro, Philip Gounis, Ellen Herget, and Nicky Rainey. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., and the cover is $3.

Colleen McKee teaches for both the English Department and for the Institute for Women’s and Gender Studies at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. Colleen's poetry has appeared in publications such as Poetry Daily, Bellevue Literary Review, Flyway, and Bad Shoe, as well as in several book-length collections of poetry. Colleen is co-editor of a book of personal narratives entitled Are We Feeling Better Yet?: Women’s Encounters with Health Care in America.

Natural Causes

I had to live long enough to perfect my own funeral.
I’d saved my pennies for an open bar
at the chapel, only rail liquors,
no cheap shit. You only die once.
I’d saved my sequins
for the just-so
little black dress.

I’d spent every Sunday
of the last year of my life
rolling out rugelach dough,
that, and sewing on sequins.
It turns out rugelach
thaws very nicely.

I’d spent every Saturday night
accumulating suitors
so I would have plenty of mourners, men
to cry and shuffle their feet,
clutch the pale stems of flowers
in clammy palms,
clench and unclench their handsome jaws,
clean-shaven for once; they wish
they had treated me better.
Tattooed and virgin-skinned,
beer-bellied and svelte in their suits,
blonde and red-headed and bald,
they look sideways at each other
over my plain pine box.
They drink and hope my family
doesn’t still hate them.
My friends whisper: She really could
pick em. Some guests
get in fist fights, of course,
a few ties loosened and rugelach-stained...
But after a few tears, a little blood,
some loose petals, people sigh.

They say things like,
I’m sorry. They say,
I wouldn’t go... They say,
I have work
in the morning.
So they go.

One final man sticks around
to turn off the lights.

We are alone in the dark, fragrant
with living white jonquils,

each bunch in its world
of sugary water.

He pats my hand, the naked ring finger.
Each vase will be spilled

with the sun.

-- Colleen McKee

Ellen Herget To Read at Duff's in the C.W.E. on Monday, November 22

Ellen Herget will be one of the featured readers at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, on Monday, November 22, when Chance Operations turns the reigns of control over to CJ Smith of JKPublishing.

The reading will also feature Sean Arnold, Michael Castro, Colleen McKee, Nicky Rainey, and Philip Gounis. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., and the cover is $3.

Ellen Herget co-edits Bad Shoe with Erin Wiles, and also has a chapbook published with JKPublishing entitled Thus Far. Bad Shoe was a 2010 recipient of a Kick Ass Award, given to "individuals, businesses, organizations and projects that contribute to the health and vitality of the St. Louis region." She has a cat; she plays music; she is fond of pop tarts. She is in love with the Bad Shoe project and especially proud of the current issue.

I dreamt it was the 1950's

and we were arguing in a pig's-blood-red
Chevy convertible, the old style
with fins and matching upholstery.
You were in your yellow checked shirt
and bruised blue bandana.
We both smoked, parked in a generic light-speckled overlook
that I've seen in a thousand generic light-speckled movies.
I don't remember a word of what was said.
In the morning it was 2010
(o futuristic year)
and you were gone, just like the dream,
bolting out the driver's-side door
and bailing for the woods.

Our distantly placed
fellow astronaut friends
ask after you.
I have nothing to tell.

I think on your quick fingers
attached to blunt-instrument
limbs; you were clumsy
in the way of a bear,
knocking down saplings in your haste
to delicately dismantle a beehive,
to dexterously flick the scales off salmon.

Little girls play House but we
played Boys, molded would-be
tears into laughter; dissolved
frustration with whiskey and smoke.

I think on a figure eternally
perched between now and next,
hummingbird hovering -- hovering;
twenty years I'll never know about.
Few questions cast before wasps
moved in for the food supply.
And you darted away with a dark
thrum of wings, oh emerald bird
off to Elsewhere, where you are
tasting the wind and
hovering --
-- hovering.

-- Ellen Herget

Nicky Rainey to Read at Duff's in the C.W.E. on Monday, November 22

Nicky Rainey will be one of the featured readers at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, on Monday, November 22, when Chance Operations turns the reigns of control over to CJ Smith of JKPublishing.

The reading will also feature Sean Arnold, Michael Castro, Ellen Herget, and Philip Gounis, and Colleen McKee. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., and the cover is $3.

Nicky Rainey makes zines, writes grants, stories and letters to her pen-pals. A loud talker since childhood, she represented St. Louis in the National Poetry Slam 2009 (and Madison, Wisconsin, in the Rustbelt Regional slam in 2007). Nicky earned a hearty "BA!" from Truman State in English, and also studied social justice and how to make elaborate omelets. Nicky has a new zine made out of envelopes called Let’s Talk about People. Write her for a copy at n.k.rainey@gmail.com.

Watching TV & Playing World of Warcraft with Angelito88

On Day 57 of the BP spill, I watched MSNBC & traipsed
through dungeons with Angelito88, Christopher's cousin or maybe
               nephew,
studies petroleo engineering at University & needs breaks so we
               chase gryphons.

At 22 and 27, this game is our generation's golf, refined.
We're humans and dwarves, not fucking Orcs. We drink coffee,
type about family & politics across sea and shimmering flats --

I say:
               the dolphins are blowing oil out of their blowholes
               the dolphins are acting drunk

Angelito88's newspapers put the spill on page five next to the story about the drug cartels creating alliances with Hezbollah, can you imagine how those intermarriages will go over with the grandmothers. In his state, people have oil-wells in the backyard, owned by the government.
Angel's glad BP didn't bust a valve on an entire city.

We clear the iron forge & he changes the subject:

               you know, when they play Warcaft in China,
               there's flesh on the skeletons
               and the dead are in tidy graves

Inside my house, I see a waning crimson gryphon on one screen and blowout preventer valves on another. Two blocks away --on North and South-- sits an old Jewish cemetery where the graves look tidy, but are truly filled with swarms of little angels, myriad dungeons, our ancestors & friends wearing crowns of oil and water.

-- Nicky Rainey

Philip Gounis To Read at Duff's in the C.W.E. on Monday, November 22

Philip Gounis will be one of the featured readers at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, on Monday, November 22, when Chance Operations turns the reigns of control over to CJ Smith of JKPublishing.

The reading will also feature Sean Arnold, Michael Castro, Ellen Herget, Colleen McKee, and Nicky Rainey. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., and the cover is $3.

Philip Gounis has worked as a writing tutor, editor and publisher, and for the last three decades his work has appeared in a variety of literary publications and entertainment magazines. In the radio broadcast medium he has served as both host and producer. Some Of These Have Appeared, a chapbook of poetry was published spring 2007.

Litany of the Ridiculous

life after birth is not ridiculous
it is both infinite & absurd as it unwinds
like Hank Williams lamenting in his tower of song,
Ridiculous is continually picking at the scabs of past deeds
               done in vain
plowing through the snowbank of ignorance & bias with only
lightweight sandals on; THAT is ridiculous
Ridiculous is not respecting your elders that have died
               bathed in blood,
sweat & fear for those who would follow in their path
Ridiculous is riding with the vigilante mob even
               after you realize that
they are up to no good
Ridiculous is coming face to face with a mutated frog & mistaking it
for the Prince of Darkness
it is ridiculous to come face to face, cheek to jowl with
the Prince of Darkness
& not change your course of action
Ridiculous is participating in a marathon sleep over
& then waking up in a pool of blood on a king size mattress
Ridiculous is fire bombing babies in their thatched huts
Ridiculous is giving people shit because you are
               intimidated by them
Ridiculous is not getting the money up front
Ridiculous is washing the colored with the whites
Ridiculous is falling madly in love with the Man in the Moon
even though you know that he can never be yours
Ridiculous is judging somebody by how much money they spend
Ridiculous is believing that your own urine can
               obliterate the freckles
that you have had since birth
Ridiculous is not having enough time for music
Ridiculous is not letting go of the lever even after you realize that
               you have voted wrong
Ridiculous is bundling up on the sunny Miami beach
Ridiculous is believing that “clothes make the man”
Ridiculous is clinging to the belief that form matters
Ridiculous is taking only one path at the crossroads
Ridiculous is lusting over flesh & blood
Ridiculous is looking for logic in faith,because it’s not there
Ridiculous is looking for a needle in a opium den
Ridiculous is continuing long, heated, protracted debates with
               the man in the mirror
Ridiculous is trying to threaten cowards that are already
               running scared
Ridiculous is letting your subscription to your own personal credo
               run out
Ridiculous is using ridicule as a defense mechanism
It is ridiculous to believe that in the field of ethics,
               “one size fits all”
It is ridiculous not to hold on to your ticket stub
It is ridiculous not to travel with an iron clad alibi
And it is ridiculous not to know when to stop !

-- Philip Gounis

Michael Castro To Read at Duff's in the C.W.E. on Monday, November 22

Michael Castro will be one of the featured readers at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, on Monday, November 22, when Chance Operations turns the reigns of control over to CJ Smith of JKPublishing.

The reading will also feature Sean Arnold, Philip Gounis, Ellen Herget, Colleen McKee, and Nicky Rainey. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., and the cover is $3. Bush Lied

Michael Castro has been called “a legend in St. Louis poetry.” Long active as a poet and arts activist, he co-founded the pioneering multi-cultural literary organization and magazine River Styx, in operation since 1975; and for fifteen years he hosted the radio program, Poetry Beat. Castro has given poetry readings on three continents, and has collaborated in performance work with a wide range of musical assemblages over the last three decades, recording four albums. He has published six poetry collections, including his most recent, The Bush Years: A Poetic Exegesis of the Former Administration; two books of modern Hungarian poetry he co-translated with Gabor G. Gyukics; and Interpreting the Indian, a study of Native American influences on modern poets. He is the recipient of two lifetime achievement awards, having been named Warrior Poet by Word in Motion and Guardian Angel of St. Louis Poetry by River Styx. He currently teaches at Lindenwood University.

Bush Lied

Bush lied
to get the country
to support his war -—
projected fear, “Saddam
tried to get uranium from . . .
Africa!” -— uttering this word,
after a pause, like a curse --
then a pause as if to allow the silent gasp
you expected
the spooky music to start -— Blair said
Saddam’s bombers could be
bringing on the nukes
in 45 minutes
& Bush chimed in, the Iraqis had drones
could reach the states -—
fear drove the war,
intentionally generated fear
& foolish arrogance,
the delusion of the invaders
that the occupying army
would be met with flowers & hearts
& the keys to the oil fields

-- Michael Castro

Sean Arnold to Read at Duff's in the C.W.E. on Monday, November 22

Sean Arnold will be one of the featured readers at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, on Monday, November 22, when Chance Operations turns the reigns of control over to CJ Smith of JKPublishing.

The reading will also feature Michael Castro, Philip Gounis, Ellen Herget, Colleen McKee, and Nicky Rainey. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., and the cover is $3.

Sean Arnold is currently a poet, anarchist, MC, visual artist, roustabout, and bread delivery truck driver living in St. Lucipher, MO. His writing chronicles the pretensions and directions of everything and nothing at the same time but, most importantly, often straddles the line between idleness and revolt of thought. His goals in life are thus far both grand and minute. Arnold was first transfixed with poetics as an angsty preteen. Now 22 years old, he has with his first book of poems, Soliloquy from an Open Summer Window, taken these inclinations to their most logical conclusion yet. However, this first book is just a stepping stone in one vast open letter to those left indignant and smarting from current political pastures, but also optimistic and secretly in love, convinced another world is possible.

Signs on Cherokee

kick back and look at the signs on cherokee street
colorful handpainted banners
chipped hieroglyphs
mantras filthy with capitalist sleaze
infinite mismatched combination of numbers
beautiful illogical as
cracked slow summer
car doors falling off onto the street itself
dudes ride by on old bikes with orange peel in their faces
rinds in clumpy hair.
pale blue word birds hung so carefully
thin straight letter script
“drug free zone” on yellow plastic.
(oh really, this must be the only one in america)
the OPEN neon
fresh pasta!
white reflections cross white reflections
SALE/ LEASE/ money in 10!
CASH/ BACK/ FAST
drab blue o’er hang street gray w/ segment bursts of yellow lines
bars in the windows
(don’t take my shit please!)
unseen banners
times verbal dinosaurs
beaten senseless by brunt erasers
slow mountain bikes climb cement non-inclines with wide treads
parking ticket nazis,
stencils=bright propaganda,
all graffiti is propaganda anymore,
cartoon character political rhetoric is unavoidable
all hallucinogenic real colors
slight blue sky.

-- Sean Arnold

JKPublishing Authors at Duff's on Monday, November 22

Phil Gounis, Michael Castro, and Sean Arnold.
Photo by Erin Wiles.
C.J. Smith of JKPublishing will be the guest curator of the next Chance Operations reading at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, St. Louis, on Monday, November 22.

The reading will feature Sean Arnold, Michael Castro, Phil Gounis, Ellen Herget, Colleen McKee and Nicky Rainey. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., and the cover is $3.

Sean Arnold is currently a poet, anarchist, MC, visual artist, roustabout, and bread delivery truck driver living in St. Lucipher, MO. His writing chronicles the pretensions and directions of everything and nothing at the same time but, most importantly, often straddles the line between idleness and revolt of thought. His goals in life are thus far both grand and minute. Arnold was first transfixed with poetics as an angsty preteen. Now 22 years old, he has with his first book of poems, Soliloquy from an Open Summer Window, taken these inclinations to their most logical conclusion yet. However, this first book is just a stepping stone in one vast open letter to those left indignant and smarting from current political pastures, but also optimistic and secretly in love, convinced another world is possible.

Michael Castro has been called “a legend in St. Louis poetry.” Long active as a poet and arts activist, he co-founded the pioneering multi-cultural literary organization and magazine River Styx, in operation since 1975; and for fifteen years he hosted the radio program, Poetry Beat. Castro has given poetry readings on three continents, and has collaborated in performance work with a wide range of musical assemblages over the last three decades, recording four albums. He has published six poetry collections; two books of modern Hungarian poetry he co-translated with Gabor G. Gyukics; and Interpreting the Indian, a study of Native American influences on modern poets. He is the recipient of two lifetime achievement awards, having been named Warrior Poet by Word in Motion and Guardian Angel of St. Louis Poetry by River Styx. He currently teaches at Lindenwood University.

Philip Gounis has worked as a writing tutor, editor and publisher, and for the last three decades his work has appeared in a variety of literary publications and entertainment magazines. In the radio broadcast medium he has served as both host and producer. Some Of These Have Appeared, a chapbook of poetry was published spring 2007.

Ellen Herget co-edits Bad Shoe with Erin Wiles, and also has a chapbook published with JKPublishing entitled Thus Far. She has a cat; she plays music; she is fond of poptarts. She is in love with the Bad Shoe project and especially
proud of the current issue.

Colleen McKee teaches for both the English Department and for the Institute for Women’s and Gender Studies at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. Colleen's poetry has appeared in publications such as Poetry Daily, Bellevue Literary Review, Flyway, and Bad Shoe, as well as in several book-length collections of poetry. Colleen is co-editor of a book of personal narratives entitled Are We Feeling Better Yet?: Women’s Encounters with Health Care in America.

Nicky Rainey makes zines, writes grants, stories and letters to her pen-pals. A loud talker since childhood, she represented St. Louis in the National Poetry Slam 2009 (and Madison, Wisconsin, in the Rustbelt Regional slam in 2007). Nicky earned a hearty "BA!" from Truman State in English, and also studied social justice and how to make elaborate omelets. Nicky has a new zine made out of envelopes called Let’s Talk about People. Write her for a copy at n.k.rainey@gmail.com.

JKPublishing to Guest Curate November 22 Reading at Duff's

The Monday, November 22, Chance Operations reading at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, St. Louis, will be guest curated by C.J. Smith of JKPublishing and will feature Sean Arnold, Michael Castro, Ellen Herget, and others. Doors open at 7:30 p.m., and the cover is $3.

Bruce Cohen

Bruce Cohen stepped up to the Chance Operations open-mic at Duff's on October 25.

The next Chance Operations reading will be Monday, November 22, at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, in the Central West End. Cover will be $3.00; doors open at 7:30 p.m.

"Words Lie" by Seth Grossman

Seth Grossman stepped up to the Chance Operations open-mic on October 25 and read the following poem from his cell phone.

The next Chance Operations reading will be Monday, November 22, at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, in the Central West End. Cover will be $3.00; doors open at 7:30 p.m.

Words Lie

Words lie
But one’s heart won't, or can't
It just gushes in love, hate, fear, or silence

Driven by the sun like the flow of water through roots to leaves
And the wobbling earth 10,000 years in a clip,
And the light of stars every 12 hours we see.

When words come from the brain with no heart,
They could, like the truth of the heart, reign 10,000 years
Would you forsake a moment's gain for such false light eons ever?
I speak, though as I wrote tears welled in my eyes
I ask only for your heart to beat with mine.
Or just beat out loud.

Words well from the cells of belief
They are now from mine free flown from fractures
In the shell of my visage. When one can't take it any longer
Beams of light, regardless of one’s courage or strength just shine
Through the fissures of vanity. This is the good -- this is god --
My faith is that my truth needs no censure

I love, I hate, I lust, I lie, I am
All these words just dust in a maelstrom compared to
What you feel from across the room in silence.

-- Seth Grossman

"My Daddy Bought Me Porn When I Was Nine" by Lindsey Klees

Lindsey Klees stepped up to the Chance Operations open-mic on October 25.

The next Chance Operations reading will be Monday, November 22, at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, in the Central West End. Cover will be $3.00; doors open at 7:30 p.m.

My Daddy Bought Me Porn When I Was Nine

He caught me wearing Mommy's pumps and bras
and spreading her "Rita's Rose" lipstick across my mouth.
She always got it on her teeth, but not me; it was perfect.
He walked into the room as I was in the middle of performing
"Happy Birthday" in the style of Marilyn Monroe.
I smiled at him and waved my delicate hand.
He dropped his Miller High Life and stared.
I could hear the yellow liquid fizz.
That day we went to the barber shop and he got me a crew-cut.
I used to go with Mommy to the salon.
She let the women put curlers in my hair and sit under the heated globe.
"He's so patient" they'd say and she would smile.
No one spoke to me at the barber shop.
My hair was uneven in the back, but they said it would build character.
The next day three magazines were sitting on my bed.
I gazed at the lovely bodies of women for hours.
Daddy cracked the door open and I looked up, fearful.
He tipped his hat, smiled and left me alone.
I undressed myself and stood in front of the mirror.
I held up a magazine in front of me and wondered,
When will I get my breasts?

-- Lindsey Klees

Rae Cailliach & Marie Lecrivain's "Manifesto of a Sexy Librarian"

Rae Cailliach stepped up to the Chance Operations open-mic on October 25 and read a couple of poems by Marie Lecrivain.

The next Chance Operations reading will be Monday, November 22, at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, in the Central West End. Cover will be $3.00; doors open at 7:30 p.m.

Thanks to Marie Lecrivain for letting us post her poem. You can click here to order a copy of her book, Antebellum Messiah.


Manifesto of a Sexy Librarian

“Sexy Librarian.”
a name I’ve heard since who knows or cares when.
It’s what you say to yourself when you first gaze on me,
bespectacled, a solemn look upon my face,
at war with the inviting hips and plentiful breasts
you fight the urge to explore.
You’re not sure what to make of me,
this dichotomy of a woman
with the body of a whore and the mind of a terrorist.
I will be trouble, with a capital "T,"
and you don’t care, because I am different,
not a bimbo, chanteuse, or ingenue,
or even a lonely spinster waiting for her Harlequin Romance.
Just someone different, a novelty.
So, you probe the layers. Peer with your magnifier
into the myriad facets of who I am,
those you choose to see, anyway,
Sometimes pleased,
sometimes unpleasantly surprised
by my soft glitter or sharp edges,
that say, “welcome,” or “fuck off,”
when my feelings are tested, validated or failed
by your actions or words to my person.
You can’t seem to get past that first impression,
which is,
you think it’s okay,
to screw me at your leisure
and talk to me like I’m one of the guys.
I know your heart is not in this journey we are taking,
only your dick and
your idle curiosity at what you consider me to be:
A gorgeous freak!
But, I 'm not
a freak.
I'm the girl next door.
I 'm the hopeful romantic.
I 'm the would-be wife and mother of some future family,
and I will not be trifled or played!
Like a librarian, I know of many things in life,
many experiences, many people and what they think,
especially, all about you,
who was too busy telling me
about yourself,
and not even listening when I told you,
loudly and clearly,
I am a WOMAN!
I have FEELINGS!
RESPECT them!
When things get difficult,
I say these things,
and you run away from me,
fearful and not understanding you broke a rule,
one I established in the beginning,
and you leave me in the quiet.
What can I do now?
I cannot change WHO I am.
I will not shift my appearance to something
more uniform to your plebian eyes,
and I will not speak lies to comfort you
when we fall into the dark spaces of each other.
I don’t have all the answers,
like the librarian you want me to be.
My heart and soul are not an institution.
But, you will NEVER get another chance,
because you are trapped in the narcissism
your isolation provides.
I feel sorry for you,
and really,
it’s a shame.
You see,
I am the woman all you men want.
even if I'm just a “Sexy Librarian.”

-- Marie Lecrivain

"Communion with Cash and Rubin" by Dena Molen

Dena Molen stepped up to the Chance Operations open-mic on October 25.

The next Chance Operations reading will be Monday, November 22, at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, in the Central West End. Cover will be $3.00; doors open at 7:30 p.m.

Communion with Cash and Rubin *

Sunday morning Johnny Cash rattles
in my head, his train rollin' round the
bend, spittin' sparks of accepted
imperfections, wrapped in wayward black.

I find lightness in the black. Heavy-
Lightnes. My father scratches a
precise spot on his head. It's raw. He
half-grins.

"What's that scar from on
Johnny's face?" I sing. We sing
together, and it's better than church
by myself.

Years later I sing again, with Rick and
Johnny this time. A sacrament conjured
of my own, drunk by noon then sober
by six o'clock mass, and underestimated access
to redemption.

I'm managing the host of new life
in my palms, harnassed by these
contumacious cowboys, they're telling me
I'm not dead.

Their song becomes a tabernacle. A place
where honesty prevails over consideration.
Johnny rumbles: "Sin is a shy crack. You won't
fall through. Your soul has edges." My pessimism
faithfully insists: Not true.

Scratched and worn, Gospel fades out. The
record needle was lifted, my daddy's soul was not.
Still I hear the chicka-boom, chicka-boom and I
know the atheists are searching.

The sinners have faith, and Johnny's "Sweet
Chariot" carries me home, somewhere between
idealism and Buddhism. Tell the man in black
I'm a-coming his way.

-- Dena Molen

* This poem originally appeared in Bad Shoe #3, and is reprinted with permission.

"a small part of me fell in love with your italian girlfriend" by Jim McGowin

Jim McGowin stepped up to the Chance Operations open-mic on October 25.

The next Chance Operations reading will be Monday, November 22, at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, in the Central West End. Cover will be $3.00; doors open at 7:30 p.m.

a small part of me fell in love with your italian girlfriend

it's a pending catastrophe
that part of us that exists
in those narrow passages
where no one really ever hopes
to hear their own foot steps.

we can see,
it's so obvious
where the path is well lit
but there is that other at times
inevitable way
which will always serve to entice us
pay heed to our vices
remind us how nice it is...

manifested
in the curve of a neck
the flip of a curl
a shared breath
a cool pair of glasses
tight pants
the old familiar song
pulling toward the rocks
'it's in our nature' i heard you say.

self destruction
in a simple undulation.

maybe some of us have always been doomed
to want to climb
forbidden hights of someplace
stimulating

and by wanting
we are already guilty
of doing,
succumbing,
to that which realistically
should never be achieved
besides in metaphor,
beyond that which is ritualistic
all because of a shade of lipstick.

the potter's clay is not perfect
but it strives to be.
and, so it strives,
but for the kiln.
sometimes the heat is too much.

and sometimes doom is doom
and sometimes love is love
and sometimes the deed
isn't really what we need.

and there the ingress is ignored.

the destination
diverted and rerouted
into something else,
something safer
but maybe not quite as much fun

something like
a poem.

-- Jim McGowan