Writing a note in the comment box over at Josh Corey's blog got me putting 2 & 2 together.

My mother used to tell us bedtime stories (back in the 1950s) about a Tom Thumb character she called "Frisbee". Then, in the late 50s, my father, a lawyer, patented the first "Frisbee". Now I'm wondering if the two things are connected somehow.

My Dad brought home the protoype no-name frisbee one day - my brothers & I threw it around in the yard.

Perhaps this is all connected somehow with the pervasive occulted subtextual obsession - in my longish poems - with time travel, flying saucers, etc...

the Russians are coming!


& hey, this reminds me once again of one of my 1st published poems. (I know I've posted it before here.)


you can do anything you want.

the baby here is trying to decide

about growing up human. he's rubbing

his double chin, he's a serious kid.

in a house on Arthur Street

a cap pistol is sitting on a desk

in the bedroom upstairs with the yellow

walls. according to the kid here

it's supposedly waiting

for the little green men.

the sky gets closer

as it gets more blue,

and you can recall

the 4th of July

all the heat

and all those little flags

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