Thank you, Ann - most gracious. And as for the tantrum that followed you in, if it's my party he can cry if he wants to.

This Is Just To Say

I have taken
the conference
and center which
you were probably
saving
for others

Forgive me
they are delightful
so fresh
and so cool

The Po Man

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the empty chairs and unplugged microphones
Of the conference crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the podium shagged with ice,
The chapbooks rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few fluttering pages,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, unpublished himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Deeply hilarious, Rose.

Brilliant, Rose! Best smile I've had all day!

Fabulous, Rose! Strikes the best possible notes.

Great parody, Rose! It is nice to get a few laughs out of such a sad occasion.

Susan

Ann, if you really do have inside information but dare not reveal your source, you might give it to us as real journalists do, with some such heading as:

"A meeting with Deep Dactyl in an underground parking garage in Philadelphia at 3:00 a.m. has revealed that..."

Keep Calm and Carew On

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the ledger's rows
and columns. They'll receive an audit.
(And a new Director, got it?)

Ask me no more whither do stray
The motley mummers in this play,
None of whom may freely speak--
Though others' pens are prone to leak.

Ask me no more whither doth haste
The locksmith. Stand and watch him waste
All the Center's planned events.
Hush, you keyed-up malcontents.

Ask me no more where those stars 'light.
They'll scramble for another site
Next year, but they'll be back. You'll see.
By then, they'll all forget K.B.

Ask me no more if east or west
Can change a thing if they protest.
Assume that justice will prevail.
It does in every fairytale.

Good one, Julie. I didn't know the original poem, but managed to find it.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/180869

West Chester
(after Blake's London)

I found a conference ill beset,
near where the Brandywine does flow,
then read upon the internet
posts of “wtf?!”, and, “NOoo!”.

For every “why” from every man,
and every student volunteer,
for every query ‘bout the ban
refined, forced platitudes they hear.

Now the barren Xanadu
the sickly sonneteer appalls,
and the rondeau rhymers ruin
rasps in doom down conference halls.

But most on internets one hears
how now’s disdain may morrow curse
with plague on newborn forums’ years,
and set a’roll the Formal hearse.