Hello, internet. It’s me, awkwardphobic. Dada koans! You can do this yourself if you put a crapload of word slips in a candy box and yank out ten. Rearrange– or don’t. Paste the finished poem onto colorful paper. No longer using gluestick. It’s liquid Elmer’s from now on because I prefer that wrinkled look. Started in January and now I have a million of these things. What the hell.
Dada koans remind me of being a youngster on the beach and grabbing colorful shells out of the saltwater. My mother used to say, “Isn’t it nice to leave them where they are so other people can enjoy them too?” She was good. Well, after those shells were out of the water for ten minutes they didn’t look so hot!
And so it is with dada koans. At the moment of completing a fresh koan, all its words makes a bizarre sense. But a couple of days later…
DK #6 concerns a woman who made a brave choice for love.
Here is the above cranberry-colored koan in glorious B&W:
Dear Amy: I am in love
in a plastic molding factory
men– have told me
that you won’t be able to
parsley, garlic, onion,
beets, kale, eggplant,
Fennel is perhaps not the go-to seasoning for fish. Even a plastic fish. A reliable herb reference book, Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham*, informs me that fennel’s planet is Mercury. So not even Pisces, dang it. Eh, with dada koans it’s the luck of the draw.
Unrelated and Related Addendum: Happy July Fourth! If you are planning a Dionysian ceremony for your backdoor barbecue– you will need an authentic thyrsus. To make one– stick pine cones on the ends of the biggest fennel stalk you can find* (ibid.)
Related Addendum: Yes, I believe some chopped up Chicago Sun-Times may have been incorporated in DK #6. But there’s other people named Amy too.