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From A is for Amoeba

Q is for quintessence, quantiles,

division of a census population

or mathematical quanta into fifths

for ease of sampling.  Quixotic,

Quentin Tarnatino’s camera,

glued to the cross-hatched iris

of Django, deadly pistoleer.

The epic quest: to rescue

his still-enslaved wife.

Die Wahrheit wird

euch frei machen . . .

Beneath the receipt of sale

for human life are legs,

broken stilts, a quill:

signatory deed of a

once-quiescent, now

quaking (quelle horreur)

polis, city, world.

R is for Repressive State Apparatuses, railcars,

and the riptide Roaring twenties, catching fire

across New York, Paris, Berlin, and London,

in a brief respite of economic prosperity

before the Wall Street Crash of 1929

(Hoover gone stark raving mad)

flatlined a burgeoning America

(Jazz Age’s strutting trombones,

sultry scat, Art Deco, disco,

foxtrot: well-lit allure of

rummy speakeasies

romanticizing ruin).

From the gold standard

to fiat currency (spin cycle

between austerity and stimulus,

equity and debt), relentless race

to the bottom rung of redrum:

Hollywood’s red-eyed dawn.

T is for Tahiti, yawning orange sunsets

atop the 118 islands of French Polynesia,

where vacationers go to be reborn.  T is

for Tarantella (hooped skirts aflame),

termites, tornados and teamwork,

because alone life is impossible.

Together, more so, unless

tethered to the timepiece

(astronomical clock created

by Norweigian Rasmus

Sørnes) of thought:

aether, tautological,

of Tristes Tropiques,

travelogue of anthropos

as told by Claude Levi-Strauss,

totalizing world view torn along

the bias cut of his

trident shaped tongue.