Poems by Ian Ganassi

Status Report

I’ve been better but I’ve been worse.
I can’t take all the blame for myself.
Put but money in thy purse,
And your conscience on the shelf.

Lettuce just be able to afford a tuna fish sandwich.
And still the march of science has to progress.
The sales rep lived in Greenwich, Connecticut.
He wasn’t alright and there wasn’t much left.

I’ve been better but I’ve been worse.
It’s hotter in here than it is out there.
Put but money in thy purse,
It’s almost time to turn on the canned air.

Lettuce just be able to afford a tuna fish sandwich.
On second thought, let’s get meatballs.
The sales rep lived in Greenwich, Connecticut.
Let’s hope the maniacs don’t shoot us all first.

I’ve been better but I’ve been worse.
The cabin was small and made of logs.
Put but money in thy purse.
Outside the door he tethered a three-headed dog.

Lettuce just be able to afford a tuna fish sandwich.
The rebus was tiring in its flaccidity.
The sales rep lived in Greenwich, Connecticut.
You’ll just have to put up with the battery acid.

I’ve been better but I’ve been worse.
Go upstate for a while and sit on a log.
Put but money in thy purse,
Listen to the crickets, mosquitos, and frogs.

Lettuce just be able to afford a tuna fish sandwich.
I agree with what has already been said.       
The sales rep lived in Greenwich, Connecticut.
Something got fixed and something got dead.

 

The Large Hadron Collider

The Large Hadron Collider is the largest thing of its kind.

They’re due to start it up again soon,
If they haven’t already.

Will it suck the world into a big black hole?

Be very afraid.

It’s time to call Superman
Or someone like him.

I have a terrible headache;
Is it barometric pressure
Or the Large Hadron Collider?

There ought to be a particle named a “moron.”
They already have a “gluon;”
Which I guess is sort of like a Klingon.

I’d like to be shot into orbit
From the Large Hadron Collider,
But alas, they haven’t opened the amusement park yet.

Let’s face the music: This ain’t no sing-along.

Be sure to wear a helmet in the Large Hadron Collider.

Or perhaps you’d like a big pile of manuals—
The Large Hadron Collider begat a lot of technical writing.

Down in the hayfield
They found the Higgs Boson.
Sounds like some sort of fishing tackle.

Is He a fisherman God?

If knowledge is the key, what happened to the door?

Just open the door to the Large Hadron Collider.
Or enter the door it opens.

The particles colliding in it
Are like hopped-up bumper cars.

Some physicist is reading this and grinding his teeth.

I should have been roasted in the Large Hadron Collider.

I wonder if it sounds like an MRI from inside.

But I don’t think anyone is supposed to be in there,
At least not while it’s hurling particles around,
Or when you’re not properly suited up.

And whatever you do
Don’t make fun of the Large Hadron collider;
The physicists will make you an offer you can’t refuse.

And I should know.

 

Holiday Abroad

Now you say you will be there,

Beyond the purple door.

Thanks loads.

“What’s the ‘take-away?’”

An empty Good Humor truck?

“Drenched in artificial almond flavor?”

I stand corrected. In the penal colony.

Conscience is a dog that does not stop us from passing,
But that we cannot prevent from barking.

Smoke bombs are in order.

When was the “Now Generation” again?

The galvanic resurrection of ephemera:

The terrifying M. Valdemar—
I wouldn’t recognize him
Even in the underworld.

But I hear he can juggle live mice.

I’d like to see you prove it.

The obligatory snickering.

So sue me. And get out of here.

Happy trails! Just follow the purple Volvo

Off the edge of the world.