Neighborhood Bully

In 1983 Bob Dylan released his 22nd album called Infidels. I remember exactly where I was when I first heard it. Mark Femrite, a friend and Dylan fan, invited me over for the first playing of his new vinyl. Dylan's previous albums were a trilogy of evangelical/gospel albums through which he had declared his Christian faith and explored, in his own original manner, the meaning of that faith.

The meaning of this album title then took on an intriguing aspect in light of this context. The word infidel has several definitions. (1) An unbeliever with respect to a particular religion, especially Christianity or Islam. (2) One who has no religious beliefs. (3) One who doubts or rejects a particular doctrine, system, or principle.

Dylan's ambiguity is legendary, so that it would be near impossible to declare emphatically in favor of one definition over another, or whether he is referring to himself or his enemies, especially in light of song number three on side one, Neighborhood Bully.

The songs on this album cover a range of geopolitical themes. Neighborhood Bully is an polemic regarding Israel. The song is a defense of its controversial stance in the world, especially as regards how the media has painted it.

As is often the case, Dylan distills his theme to its essence, and then explores the implications or meanings of that essence. The song is delivered in volleys of rock force. Its lyrics present a vivid and concise world view that may be worth further contemplation.

Neighborhood Bully

Well, the neighborhood bully, he's just one man,
His enemies say he's on their land.
They got him outnumbered about a million to one,
He got no place to escape to, no place to run.
He's the neighborhood bully.

The neighborhood bully just lives to survive,
He's criticized daily for being alive.
He's not supposed to fight back, supposed to have thick skin,
Supposed to lay down and die when his door is kicked in.
He's the neighborhood bully.

The neighborhood bully been driven out of every land,
He's wandered the earth an exiled man.
Seen his family scattered, his people hounded and torn,
He's always on trial for just being born.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, he knocked out a lynch mob, he was criticized,
Old women condemned him, said he should apologize.
Then he destroyed a bomb factory, nobody was glad.
The bombs were meant for him.
He was supposed to feel bad.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, the chances are against it and the odds are slim
That he'll live by the rules that the world makes for him,
'Cause there's a noose at his neck and a gun at his back
And a license to kill him is given out to every maniac.
He's the neighborhood bully.

He got no allies to really speak of.
What he gets he must pay for, he don't get it out of love.
He buys obsolete weapons and he won't be denied
But no one sends flesh and blood to fight by his side.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, he's surrounded by pacifists who all want peace,
They pray for it nightly that the bloodshed must cease.
Now, they wouldn't hurt a fly.
To hurt one they would weep.
They lay and they wait for this bully to fall asleep.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Every empire that's enslaved him is gone,
Egypt and Rome, even the great Babylon.
He's made a garden of paradise in the desert sand,
In bed with nobody, under no one's command.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Now his holiest books have been trampled upon,
No contract he signed was worth what it was written on.
He took the crumbs of the world and he turned it into wealth,
Took sickness and disease and he turned it into health.
He's the neighborhood bully.

What's anybody indebted to him for?
Nothin', they say.
He just likes to cause war.
Pride and prejudice and superstition indeed,
They wait for this bully like a dog waits to feed.
He's the neighborhood bully.

What has he done to wear so many scars?
Does he change the course of rivers?
Does he pollute the moon and stars?
Neighborhood bully, standing on the hill,
Running out of time, time standing still,
Neighborhood bully.

Copyright ©1983 Special Rider Music

14 Year Old Submits New Game To Milton Bradley

When I was fourteen I created a game and submitted it to Milton Bradley. They received it on Oct 27, 1966 at 11:41 AM. In addition to the three page letter I'd written about the game (unedited below), I included several pages of score sheets and a copy of the game board I had used.

To The Game Dept.
Milton Bradley

Dear Sirs,

This may sound silly, or this may sound originally brilliant. I invented a "new" game that I have been playing since last September. My friend liked it, too. One night my mother heard me playing and said I should write to the Milton Bradley Company.

I call it PFL football. Or the Professional Football League. I make a 15 game schedule, and score sheets for each game. To me it is very realistic with fumbles, interceptions, TDs, 8 yard losses, 20 yard passes and incompletes. I do all this with a home made football field 2' x 1 1/2', a deck of cards (with some removed) and a penny (as the football.)

I have roster sheets, League Standings sheets and score sheets. To make this a game it would be good to make your own pack of cards. 2 piles etc. (See samples)

Here I spent a page and a half detailing the rules of the game. In closing I wrote...

Since I'm a teen at 14, I know what kids over 12 like to do. Most of them love football. If you have nothing to do you watch T.V. or play a game. Many times, there is nobody to play the game with and T.V. may stink. That's why I made up this game, and since I liked it, I've been playing it. I never even expected to write to MB.

If you would like further information on how to play or anything else, please contact me at

1316 Roger Avenue

Somerville, NJ 08876

Truly Yours,

Ed Newman

On December 2, 1966, Milton Bradley Vice President Millens W. Taft, Jr. responded.

Mr. Leon Edward Newman

1316 Roger Avenue

Somerville, New Jersey 08876

re: Proffessional (sic) Football League

Dear Mr. Newman:

Thank you for submitting your idea to us.

Your idea has been presented to our Research Committee which has carefully studied it, having in mind the requirements necessary to make it adaptable to our line and also its originality.

The Committee's report has been completed, and we regret to advise that, although your item has merit, the sales potential is too limited in our estimation. We are therefore returning your material herewith by registered mail.

Your submitting this idea to us for consideration is nevertheless greatly appreciated, and we trust that, although it did not meet with our requirements, you will contact us again as you create and develop additional items.

Thank you again for submitting this idea to us, and we regret our inability to cooperate with you further in this particular instance.

Very truly yours,

MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY

Millens W. Taft, Jr.

Vice President

LESSONS

It just doesn't seem like I can close without trying to draw a lesson from all this.

In 1961, I won the Grotto Circus Contest in Cleveland. (see Dec 3, 2007 blog entry) I'm not sure if it was this that contributed to my perpetual optimism, but it must have helped. My mother's cheerful encouragement always helped, too, as you see in this story above, which resulted in... a rejection letter. But that was O.K. It was cool to get that rejection letter. I did not expect a response from the Vice President of Milton Bradley. It made an impression.

A few years later, I brought some day-glo posters to The Third Eye in New York City. They liked the posters, but didn't purchase them. The parking ticket was memorable.

The following year the president of Doubleday passed some of my sketchbooks around to five publishers for feedback as to whether I had talent. One evaluation letter said I could possibly become the next Peter Max. All five rejected my art, though.

Years later when I was trying to become a writer I followed all the rules and sent queries and articles to many magazines before I got a letter back with a hand written note saying I was getting better. He said my submission was in the correct format, which was good. At least someone was reading those submissions. It was a very nice rejection letter. I collected quite a few after that.

In the 1990's my Hollywood screenplays were read, also. And though I was paid for a winning story in 1991, it was never published, the only year they failed to publish the winners of that particular contest.

They say you have to fail before you can succeed. If you're reading this, then I have done both. I failed but kept going. Finally, after all these decades, someone has looked at something I created, and maybe even smiled. Hope it was you. If at first you don't succeed, try a bar-b-cue. If that don't work... try something else. Or just try again. Or... whatever. Just make sure you're having fun along the way.

CLICK PHOTOS TO ENLARGE

Returning to the Scene of the Crime

For some reason my mind keeps returning to the Mumbai massacre, much like an undisciplined fingernail continuously probes the edges of a scab.

As the media sifts the remains of the Mumbai disaster, news stories highlight a wide range of camera angles on this event. Some focus on who was behind this and what was their motive. Some focus on what happened and how it happened. Some seek to identify heroes such as the nanny who rescued a two year old toddler at Chabad House where terrorists possibly tortured and killed six Israelis.

And many ask probing questions. Why did the 1000 Indian commandos take 60 hours to kill 10 terrorists? How many clues were there in advance that were disregarded by Indian authorities? Who were the attackers? Were they from Pakistan or from within India itself? How could so few cause so much damage? What were their aims, besides death and mayhem? Did some get away? Who trained them? What will happen next? How will it end?

Israel buried six of her own in the Mount of Olives Cemetery this week. And this small part of the equation brought to mind for me additional questions. Why did the terrorists, who had ten men and supposedly aimed to take five thousand lives at the two hotels, go out of their way to find the Chabad House and kill six Jews? It doesn't make sense.

Another set of questions is being raised by this strange story. Since 2001 there have several major terrorist incidents in India. Among others, the Chattinghpura massacre, the Malagaon explosions, and the Samjhota Express incident were all under investigation by a team of officials. The men who had been researching these events indicated that a lieutenant colonel of the Indian army, Lt. Col. Purohit, was allegedly responsible for the attack. Purohit evidently had links with Hindu militant groups and purportedly provided training to extremists. These three officials, who were on the verge of finalizing their findings and releasing this information, were all killed in the Mumbai event. Coincidence? (Counterpunch story here)

The more you read, the more you realize how little you understand. It's far more interesting than any James Bond movie. Especially the latest one with its herky-jerky camera work and excessive commitment to "action." The real world unfolds at a little slower pace, though still much too fast for us to interpret all the meanings of its events.

In the end there will always be too many questions, and too few answers. We see once more what Robert Burns said rightly, "Man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn."

Basic Article Structure

The following is an article I wrote for a homeschooling publication, but which has application to anyone interested in teaching writing or in becoming a better writer themselves.

HOW TO WRITE THE "BASIC" ARTICLE

I take issue with those who say a picture is worth a thousand words. It is simply not always the case. Without a caption, a picture can often leave viewers scratching their heads saying, “Huh?”

David Ogilvy, founder of the Ogilvy and Mather ad agency and guru of modern advertising, notes that photo captions are usually the first thing a person will read on the page. So if you're ever in advertising, be sure your photos don't stand alone. Add some sales copy beneath that picture, to clarify or reinforce the message you’re trying to communicate.

Granted, properly chosen photos and illustrations almost always enhance an article, story or poem. But they are not necessary to communication. Some of my favorite portions of magazines are those non-illustrated sections like editorials, columns, and letters to the editor. The key is good ideas, well-presented.

Essentially, what I wanted to present here is an overview of your basic article structure.There are many kinds of articles. If you read at all you'll soon recognize their distinguishing characteristics. Here, off the top of my head, are just a few of your most common article types: list articles, how-to articles, features, question and answer articles, and (today’s subject) your basic article.

Having a pattern or structure helps both the reader and the writer. Instead of a hodgepodge of miscellaneous notions, the reader is guided along and does not have to work at understanding what is being said. Perhaps you've had the experience of reading something and not “getting it” and thinking it was you. Frequently it is not you at all, but the writer who is at fault. The writer has not done his or her job, which is to communicate clearly.

It’s similar to bad handwriting. Yes, one can eventually decipher it, but it would be more courteous if the letter were written legibly.

Having a structure also helps the writer. It provides a form for organizing one’s ideas. I like think of it like pouring a concrete patio. First you build the forms using a network of boards; then you pour in the concrete. Once you have your structure, pouring out your ideas can be relatively easy.

The “basic” article consists, basically, of the intro (or hook), the billboard, the body and the ending, which is usually a summary or conclusion. When teaching writing, always challenge your children or students to think in terms of readers. This is especially important with writing introductions. In a world filled with television, video games and a thousand other distractions, one must learn to grab the reader quickly. Whether it's a story, an essay, a letter to the editor or a business proposal, a good opening whets the appetite, creates anticipation and gets the reader engaged. No matter what their writing assignment, be sure to remind your kids to make the beginning zing. They'll probably surprise you! I know my kids always did.

The next section of your basic article is the billboard. The billboard is a brief paragraph, usually no more than a few sentences, that tells the reader where your article is headed. In this particular article it is paragraph four. The meat of your article, that is, the main part of what you are writing, is called the body. Of course you can call it anything you want. Sometimes it is a little plump and should be trimmed a bit, but you don’t want to be all skin and bones. In the body of your basic article you generally make three main points to support your premise, or to flesh out your topic. Whether it is five hundred words or five thousand, it is easier if you break your main article into sections. When writing longer articles I almost always add subheads to help the reader identify the main sections.

The summary, or conclusion, is usually best if brief. You know how tiresome long goodbyes can be. Long endings can be the same. Once you've made your point, take a bow. Tie up the loose ends and do the sayonara.

In short, your basic article has four parts. An intro that hooks the reader, a billboard that announces where you're going, the body which amplifies what you are trying to say, and your conclusion.

I know you can do it. And so can your kids.

TIP: If you do not already have a copy of the compact and profoundly simple Elements of Style, by Strunk and White, then be sure to buy one. It will help every aspiring writer and writing teacher, and help improve the quality of communication in the age to come.

Peace In Our Time?

I remember many years ago reading a detailed article by futurist Alvin Toffler about the future of war. (Wired magazine, I believe, in the early to mid nineties.) In the article he made a case for the decentralization of war into world hotspots. Instead of a global war involving all countries lining up in two groups like the Axis and Allies, there would be the kind of world we have come to see today, with military action in Afghanistan, Somalia, Bosnia, Iraq, etc.

No one has perfect prescience when it comes to things future. In 1963 Decca Records, for example, failed to sign up the Beatles because their internal futurist believed "the guitar is on the way out." In this instance, it appears that Mr. Toffler not only made a good case for his views, history seems to be confirming them. The Mumbai terror assault is only the latest episode in the string.

When events like Mumbai occur, there is no way to predict what will happen next. First, we do not even have all the facts. Who were these people who did this? What was their ultimate objective? Were there really only ten terrorists in this special op? India and Pakistan have been on the threshold of war for years. And the Israel component in this equation is a similar unknown quantity.

Yesterday I addressed the issue of torture. Noting that many reports on the web seemed from one source, I wasn't sure how far to go with regard to pushing this notion. Today, the Jerusalem Post had a story suggesting that the hostages may not have been tortured after all. They were simply so shot full of holes that doctors were appalled by the destruction of human life. Even this matter is as yet an uncertainty.

Some are concerned about Indo-Pakistan relations because the future between these armed powers is potentially nuclear. Both have nuclear weapons; Pakistan 60-80 missiles and India an arsenal of bombs. Re-arrange the word NUCLEAR and it spells UNCLEAR.

The following is an example of the unreliability of prognostication. This is from a blogsite called Understanding Each Other, Diversity & Dissent The writer is a Pakistani named Agha, identified here as pacocalvary.

Having said that I must add one incident that my father narrated when he visited West Germany in 1988. He asked the hosts, " Can the Germanies unite?" "Not in our lifetime," came the reply.... and it happened in 1991. So prophecy in history is not easy. Sometimes all that we assess proves wrong. So let's hope for the best. ~pavocalvary

If you are seriously interested in following the analysis of these troubling events, there are plenty of voices out there in blogs across the cyber-universe striving to help bring clarity. Here's an interesting one: In From the Cold. And here's another: Tikun Olam

And if your only serious interest is pie recipes, Google will help you find those as well.

Why Mumbai Massacre Matters To Us

The amazing power of the internet is being demonstrated once again. A terrible assault occurs in a major city half a world away. It is posted on our Twitter feeds before it is on the news.

Then, as the story breaks in the U.S. newspapers, the magnitude of the crime appears muted, even distorted. The Internet, however, tells it like it is, as it happens.

When I first learned that the terrorists took hostages and then tortured them, I wondered why this was not yet covered in U.S. media. The torture has become a major feature of the story in Israel where six Jewish citizens where tortured so horribly the doctors became disturbed. Last night I watched a news broadcast from Israel via internet after these six dead were returned to their Homeland.

But as of yesterday there were no mentions of the torture in our local paper. And now today still nothing. In fact, nothing about Mumbai at all.

Blogs and news organizations around the world are talking about this event. Some are saying it is a landmark because it has the potential of starting an Indo-Pakistan war. Others cite the specific horrors done to Jews as a setback to Israeli-Muslim relations, especially if Muslim leaders do not step up and denounce these crimes.

But U.S. stories, when I Googled Mumbai torture have the following at this moment in time. An L.A. Times story with the sentence, “An infuriated Malvia said she would torture the attackers if she ever got her hands on them.” But there is no mention that the hostages were tortured, that the U.S., British and Israeli hostages purposely captured in this well planned horrorshow were tortured. It only talks of a “killing spree.” The out of context quote almost makes the U.S. citizen seem like the bad person in the story.

According to Don Feder, editor of Boycott The New York Times, it is a deliberate stance the U.S. news regime is taking because "The Times adamantly refuses to recognize a connection between Islam and worldwide terrorism."

The Washington Post downplays the torture in this way. In a story titled Terror Groups in India, the Post cites a report that calls torture in India “normal”, noting that more than 2750 people were killed across India in “terrorism-related violence” in 2006.

The article details a host of terrorist organizations that have been active in the world’s second largest country. Are they saying then that Mumbai is just another incident?

The world press is not treating it this way.

The story being repeated on many sites seems to have as its origen this Nov. 30 account account by Krishnakumar P and Vicky Nanjappa which appeared in the Rediff India Abroad.

Doctors shocked at hostages's torture

They said that just one look at the bodies of the dead hostages as well as terrorists showed it was a battle of attrition that was fought over three days at the Oberoi and the Taj hotels in Mumbai. Doctors working in a hospital where all the bodies, including that of the terrorists, were taken said they had not seen anything like this in their lives.

"Bombay has a long history of terror. I have seen bodies of riot victims, gang war and previous terror attacks like bomb blasts. But this was entirely different. It was shocking and disturbing," a doctor said.

Asked what was different about the victims of the incident, another doctor said: "It was very strange. I have seen so many dead bodies in my life, and was yet traumatised. A bomb blast victim's body might have been torn apart and could be a very disturbing sight. But the bodies of the victims in this attack bore such signs about the kind of violence of urban warfare that I am still unable to put my thoughts to words," he said.

In other accounts it is noted repeatedly that "the worst tortured were the Jewish victims."

Unless the media tells about these things, Americans will not understand if there is a strong Jewish reaction against what happened.

Maybe the torture accounts will eentually emerge in our media. Maybe the U.S. coverage is restrained in an effort to obtain second sources to verify these accusations. But there seems to be plenty of evidence. Doctors at the hospital saw and were made ill by it. The bodies were returned to Israel where other witnesses saw what was done to Rabbi Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg, among others. You can see the pools of blood online in photos of the Chabad House Massacre where some of these terrible events took place. Very bad things did happen.

There are three reasons the events in Mumbai matter to us.

1. Indo-Pakistan relations have been jeopardized. Both countries have nuclear weapons. There may be political ramifications in U.S.-Pakistani relations.

2. Israeli-Islam relations set back. If the torture is confirmed, this could potentially become a catalyst for more incendiary events.
3. It forces us to question whether our U.S. news sources are reliable.

The power of the Internet to put all these stories, photos, and videos just a mouse click away is remarkable, though somewhat frightening as well. Pray for the peace of Jersusalem.

Duel of the Poets

Several years ago I was contacted by a man from Croatia who wished permission to translate this story into his native tongue. He had a poetry website there and felt this story would make a great centerpiece. Here is my contribution for this week's Short Story Monday.

DUEL OF THE POETS

"Each year new consuls and proconsuls are made; but not every year is a king or a poet born." Lucius Annaeus Florus c. 125

There is a little known principle - a secret law of the universe, as it were - that where two identical things simultaneously come into existence, one of them must cease to be, for there can be no two things exactly alike. This principle, like many spiritual laws, has been lost to our rational, mechanistic minds, though ancient philosophers and alchemists were aware of it and respected its power.

Borges made reference to this principle in his Personal Anthology, page 88, and it is a central feature of the story I am about to relate which was partially recorded in the History of Ammianus Marcellunus of the fourth century A.D.

The event took place during the reign of Marcus Tranquillius, an emporer known chiefly for his love of flowers, which has led some scholars to infer that he was more Greek than Roman. The fairest flower of the empire was a Court Poet of many years named Insepticus, whose name was being acclaimed throughout the Civilized World. As is not uncommon among poets Insepticus had, as a result of achievements, come to believe himself of greater significance than the empire itself. At a certain point in time he made a public pronouncement that he was unquestionably the supreme poet of his generation, if not for all time, and that undoubtedly the angels themselves were jealous of his glory.

Hardly a week had passed before there appeared at the palace gate a young poet from abroad who claimed that the gods, in a dream, had presented him with the gift of a poem which he was to deliver in the presence of Marcus Tranquillius. He asserted that he himself had been the Court Poet for a minor sheik in the the kingdom of Kalenda Parnhu in the East. When word of the young poet's arrival reached the emporer, the small hairs on his neck stood on end and his spine tingled, which gave him the impression that an affair of no small significance was on the verge of occurring.

An envoy was sent to retrieve the young poet. After three days of ceremonial cleansing and ritual instruction as regards behavior in the presence of a Roman Emperor, the young man was ushered into the Royal Court.

The sight of Insepticus, seated at the right hand of Marcus Tranquillius, impressed the young poet far more than the regal splendor of the court itself. Where else in the world could a mere poet attain to such honor?

After an evening of soporific speeches by unknown statesmen, Marcus Tranquillius at last stood to announce that the following morning there would be a Duel of the Poets with the entire assembly invited to attend to bear witness. Believing himself a spokesman for the gods, as is the custom of emporers, Tranquillius assigned added gravity to the occasion by declaring, "The Deity Himself has ordained it," which, in fact, He had.

Throughout the evening Insepticus remained cool and composed, offering no indication that he was in any way intimidated by the young poet. Some later said that he did not sleep from the moment of the young poet's arrival, but these were only rumors and have no bearing on what actually occurred, as will soon become apparent.

The morning sun emblazoned the sky with symbolic significance as courtiers prepared the poets for this epic confrontation. Tranquillius, it is said, woke three hours before dawn, his heart leaping from excitement. No one knows what the young poet felt through that fateful night. It is known only that he had come to satisfy a perceived obligation.

The amphitheater had nearly filled by the time Tranquillius was seated. A signal was given and a hush permeated the crowds as the two poets were ushered to the great stage.

Insepticus, who needed no introduction, was to be the first to deliver. As had been agreed, each would take turns presenting portions of oratory for as long as was deemed necessary until either one or the other conceded.

Insepticus stepped forward and a great stillness ensued. At a decisive moment he opened his mouth, delivering with prosaic eloquence a self-portrait in sixteen quatrains.

It would appear that the poem had made an impression on the young poet, for a remarkable blaze appeared in his eyes, though none could comprehend its meaning. When the young poet moved forward, the elder stepped aside, but did not retire to the rear of the stage. He was evidently eager to see what topic this unproven wayfarer had selected. To his amazement, the young poet began to repeat, verbatim, and with even greater eloquence, the same exact words he himself had only moments before delivered, in sixteen quatrains.

Insepticus took a rather long moment to compose himself. He then delivered forty-four couplets on the same theme he had previously introduced, only in greater detail. To the astonishment of all, the young poet, looking confident, repeated the forty-four couplets with great enthusiasm.

An imperciptible numbness seemed to seize upon Insepticus' brain. It was with great difficulty that he delivered his next sequence of stanzas which illuminated whole territories of his soul with remarkable exactitude.

The young poet continued his mimicry, only when it came to a certain particular in the twenty seventh stanza, the young poet diverged briefly to interject several additional particulars which Insepticus had omitted.

Upon completion of this specific sequence of stanzas by the young poet, Insepticus appeared to have regained a measure of his strength. Perhaps he feared that the duplication of his epic poem would eradicate it. The deviation which occurred in the twenty seventh stanza of the the third section would suffice to deflate this fear. His next three segments were delivered with the fluency and ease that had brought him the accolades he knew himself worthy of and for which he had been appointed Court Poet.

The young poet, however, proved equally eloquent, and a sense of dreamlike unreality began to overcome the crowd.

It was early afternoon when the young poet again deviated from the mimcry which had heretofore prevailed in his oration. Insepticus had, in the fourth stanza of his sixteenth segment, hinted at a private struggle which perpetually shamed him, but was an essential ingredient in his greatness.

The young poet broke off into a twenty eight measure chant revealing intensely intimate details of this struggle. Insepticus appeared crestfallen.

But it was a measure of his greatness that when his turn again came to speak, he picked up the thread of his rhetoric with the forcefulness and expressiveness that two decades of audiences had delighted in. For the subject was himself, and upon this theme he could elaborate with great zeal.

As the performance continued late into the afternoon, the portrait of Insepticus, as drawn by his own words, seemed flawless and wonderful, though in a few small details incomplete. However, it was precisely at these points of incompleteness that the young poet had brought the added measure of meticulous precision needed to fill out the picture. And when the young poet stepped forward for what would become the final segment of their performance, a strange look came upon him. For the tongue carries both a song and a sword. It has a magical power of which we are often most ignorant. And the young poet, who knew not the fulness of this power, felt himself filled with it, and frightened by it, though his fear did not refrain him from yielding to it.

And the portrait which was spoken, with its longings and renunciations, self-acceptance and self-reproach, dreams and denials, its manifold loves and bitter failings, this portrait of Insepticus was indeed so precise, so accurate that it did in fact succeed in being a duplication of the man himself. And when the young poet ceased from speaking, in the self-same instant the elder poet, Insepticus, the Court Poet of Marcus Tranquillius, disappeared. Vanished into ether.

The effect was hypnotic. Eyewitnesses could never agree exactly how it occurred. An awkward emptiness filled the city from that day onward.

As was anticipated, the young poet was afterwards appointed to the highest seat of honor in the kingdom; however, in the short period during which he held this office Marcus Tranquillius seldom appreciated the few mediodcre poems he produced.

The young poet, whose modest output proved to be of a remarkably inferior caliber with little or no lasting merit, was in the end forced to resign, eventually returning to Kalenda Parnu in the East where his name has been forgotten to this day.

# # # #

copyright 1995 ed newman
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an original story by ed newman