[Vera Ignatowitsch]

Corona
March 2020

From Khabarovsk to Arizona,
from Wellington to Barcelona,
the nuttiest caper
is toilet paper
we’re panic buying against Corona.

[Matt Q]

PLOT SUMMARY

The government accidentally releases a new, despotic and self-appointed
triffid poison. The narrative begins with Masen in prison, bandaged,
constantly under threat: Smartphone alerts. Venomous, carnivorous

misinformation lined with public health scavengers. A strictly enforced
contact-tracing programme. With military personnel chained to his eyes
he finds large numbers have tested positive. Disobeying quarantine,

the escaped triffids drive an armoured car and urge people to wash.
Assigned numbers of international visitors decide to form their own settlement
on the Isle of Wight. After discovering her hoarding medical supplies,

militaristic representatives establish a colony in a young sighted girl.
Anyone can be called by officials, who have harsh penalties
for triffid cultivation. Nearly everyone is ghostly. Masen suspects

public transport, large with staff and patients, is a mask. Stations are hung
with those who break guidelines. After the unbandaging,
the triffids leave the streets. The novel ends in Sussex, with the blind

burying a boy around the fenced exterior. In chaos, triffids pour in.


----------------------
cut up from: This article in the Guardian and The Day of Triffids plot summary on Wikipedia.

[Martin Elster]

Pandemic

A jillion germs now smirk and grin,
grinning (like one aware he’s vicious)
at those who thought the pangolin—

scales and blood and flesh—delicious.
A jillion germs knock at our doors
around the world, both mine and yours.

I’d like to think this all fictitious.
Everybody is suspicious
of anyone who coughs or sneezes,

a protocol I think judicious.
The virus does as it damned pleases.
“Keep your distance! Don’t get near me!”

I shout inside my mind. You hear me?
I fear you and, I’m sure, you fear me.
And so they grin and so we hide

and throw away the travel guide.
Look how they smirk, those jillion germs,
knowing the battle’s on their terms.


Here is a great article on a different attitude toward the pandemic.

https://sapphostorque.com/2020/03/

[Damian Balassone]

I reckon the late great Warren Zevon said it best:


SPLENDID ISOLATION

I want to live alone in the desert
I want to be like Georgia O'Keefe
I want to live on the Upper East Side
And never go down in the street

Splendid Isolation
I don't need no one
Splendid Isolation

Michael Jackson in Disneyland
Don't have to share it with nobody else
Lock the gates, Goofy, take my hand
And lead me through the World of Self

Splendid Isolation
I don't need no one
Splendid Isolation

Don't want to wake up with no one beside me
Don't want to take up with nobody new
Don't want nobody coming by without calling first
Don't want nothing to do with you

I'm putting tinfoil up on the windows
Lying down in the dark to dream
I don't want to see their faces
I don't want to hear them scream

Splendid Isolation
I don't need no one
Splendid Isolation

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awhGI0_o90s

[Allen Tice]

Julie, “He’s on a roll” is worth at least $8 HK. Hilarious.

[Julie Steiner]

Although no drug can fight this thing,
the germ will fall to Irish Spring.

Authorities worldwide attest
the virus peels apart in Zest:

C'est vraiment difficile à croire,
mais ça nous sauve: Savon d'Ivoire.

Give up despair! Renounce denial!
Roll up your sleeves! Turn up the Dial!


Inspired by https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/13/h...ing-germs.html
(Note: The New York Times is making all of its coronavirus-related articles available for free.)


~ ~ ~ ~ ~


For Trump to be a bigger jerk
now takes proprietary work.


Inspired by https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/...avirus-vaccine

[Jim Moonan]

x
Julie — You've written a soap opera!

Btw, of the many silver linings this dark cloud of social distance has bestowed on us, here's one I'm particularly grateful for:
The Metropolitan Opera will be streaming operas daily from their website beginning tonight at 7:30 p.m. (Carmen tonight, I think)


Here are a few coffeed corona virus-themed ramblings from this morning...

Dawn Can Only Come In Shades Of Gray.

Something strange has come our way
and spread itself in spoken spray.
Silence now will rule the day
and from its blooms a wide decay
Dawn falls in shades of gray.

Stay silent. Let the light burn away
the spittle fallen from the fray
that humans made and now must pay
for — not with a kiss, but sequestra-
shun. Oh! How I want to kiss it all today.
I miss it all terribly today.



Test and Treatment

There are tests and treatments for everything,
for blood and money and love
(though let it be known right here and now
there ain’t no cure for love—L.Cohen)

Imagine this:
kiss me all over
(a thousand kisses deep)
I’ll do the same to you.
It's one way to treat
the senses we have lost
on our way to distancing ourselves
to our own deserted shore
where no one touches surfaces
and the tender-hearts abhor.


Sorcery

What kind of sorcery is this?
No hug? No tongue-twined kiss?
Ok, I’m game. Let’s do this.
I’ve buried myself in books,
slathered myself in ice cream; I will try
to dream in sleep and sleep in dreams
for twenty-one days—or more if required—
It’s been such a long life and I am tired.
x
x
x

[Graham King]

Originally Posted by Matt Q

PLOT SUMMARY
...
...
----------------------
cut up from: This article in the Guardian and The Day of Triffids plot summary on Wikipedia.

Splendid, Matt! And thank you - a pleasure to read. A tone salutarily apt - after Wyndham's - for these days. (Or should that be 'aptly salutary'?)

[Graham King]

Peter Gabriel's Red Rain;
Wells's Martian Red Weed, spreading.
Fraught humanity in pain,
Worrying where this is heading.
Strangely-dreaming soldier digging
(In between his cards and swigging)
Bids the journo share a cup.
Don't Give Up. Please, Don't Give Up.

[Martin Elster]

I wrote this about a month ago (end of March), and it won a little prize in a weekly poetry contest.

Pandemic

A jillion germs now smirk and grin,
grinning (like one aware he’s vicious)
at those who thought the pangolin—

scales and blood and flesh—delicious.
A jillion germs knock at our doors
around the world, both mine and yours.

I’d like to think this all fictitious.
Everybody is suspicious
of anyone who coughs or sneezes,

a protocol I think judicious.
The virus does as it damned pleases.
“Keep your distance! Don’t get near me!”

I shout inside my mind. You hear me?
I fear you and, I’m sure, you fear me.
And so they grin and so we hide

and throw away the travel guide.
Look how they smirk, those jillion germs,
knowing the battle’s on their terms.