The AIDS attack of the 80's, a media attack on the 60's, converted hedonism by kompromat into messianic Lennon fervor: the celebrity superstate being criminal and ill, avenging the Draft Board by putting the momentum of Ringo and Oliver Stone behind Reagan for the rave massacres.

Like the explosion inthe lebanon port the supernova was symbolic.      Even when you know the likely outcome of your effort, looking realistically at vision loss, total deafness, Parkinson’s and poverty, there is something to be said for playing the market like a reckless juvie.  I wrote a poem recently, which I would reckon meant three years ago, for an issue by the deaf of Massachusetts Review.  I was acknowledged, forgotten and never informed.  I inquired a lifetime later.  The response was groggy.

     I, of course, know what they are going to do.  Smithsonian doesn’t reach a consensus, they congregate a taboo.  They will say the details have disappeared; it didn’t amount to much.

     You probably would ask what did you expect seeking help from a rock star?  A macabre scam that unfurled from too good to believe into endless nightmares of horror?  No.  Maybe.