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Poetry #526
(published February 17, 2011)
A Wiki-Leaked Document On The Status Of The Giant Squid
by Mel C. Thompson
No one knows how he learned to read and write English.
Rumor has it a former Soviet scuba diver taught him.
This was translated into a form of complex sign language

involving the use of each of the suction cups and tentacles.
The methodology is far too intricate to explain in this stanza.
Through intermediaries, the Giant Squid secretly convinced

the Governor of a small state to send in a squadron of troopers
to hoist it into a specially-made aquarium-truck and move it
to a radically-modified floor of a highrise building. The whole

level was sealed off and converted to an aqua-office where it
could use its vast intelligence and astounding coordination
to send out communiques to power centers around the globe.

Using a set of water-proof computers with advanced keyboards
several yards long, the Giant Squid sent out directives, opinions,
warnings and letters of good will to important and powerful

persons at every level of the literary, academic, military, business
and governmental worlds. It has a code name, and the building
it works out of is closely guarded by Federal police. The public

has never been allowed to know how much of our national policy
is determined and administrated by this sea creature. It is a well-kept
secret. It is assumed that the god-fearing public would not approve of

the idea of human supremacy being so blatantly and finally disproved.
It operates openly among poets, since no one would believe poets
if they reported a Giant Squid at the heart of the machine that runs

the country and the economy. He is hiding, within the poetry world,
in broad daylight. The poets, being surreal, never question the idea
of a Giant Squid editor. "The beast doesn't prefer to have guests.

So? What of it?" There are slits of thick glass block in the fortified
fish-tank-floor he lives on. He stares out at the cars and pedestrians,
wondering if technology will one day enable him to join them.


Mel C. Thompson writes from San Francisco.

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The Next Poetry piece (from Issue #527):

Ann Arbor, 2:00 AM
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The Last few Poetry pieces (from Issues #525 thru #521):

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by Leah Mueller

The Old Man's Last Stand
by R.J. Bullock

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by Frank Sloan

Soft Parade
by Jonathan Hayes

Show Your Face
by Tammy Ho Lai-Ming


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