A rational deformation that should have been left in the drawer to ferment into something deranged as well as deformed, this is instead a poème d’occasion. As Ikkyū once said, “Ask nothing from words on a page.”
![Drawing by Malcolm Ritchie [2018]](http://www.artsjournal.com/herman/wp/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Drawing-by-Malcolm-Ritchie-2018border-360x528enh.jpg)
![Drawing by Malcolm Ritchie [2018] Click to enlarge.](http://www.artsjournal.com/herman/wp/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Drawing-by-Malcolm-Ritchie-20181200-cropped.jpg){kind=link}
A TIDING OF MAGPIES
My typically slothful thoughts
have simmered on the back burner
for so long that they’re overcooked.
I should have undercooked them
sooner with gracious and, yes,
have simmered on the back burner
for so long that they’re overcooked.
I should have undercooked them
sooner with gracious and, yes,
infectious spice of chitchat.
Yours showed up in my mailbox,
some days ago I think it was,
which makes me feel an ingrate
for not sending back congratulations
or greetings—a regular malfeasoner.
Now, all breastbeat & handwrung,
uncongratulating & ungreeting,
some days ago I think it was,
which makes me feel an ingrate
for not sending back congratulations
or greetings—a regular malfeasoner.
Now, all breastbeat & handwrung,
uncongratulating & ungreeting,
I ask what-ho from the rialto.
–JH
To Malcolm Ritchie (cannibalized from an email).