Ataxonomic, by Wayne Clifford

A rambunction of mnemonics practitioners shaving fine points of definition off description down to unique, shaving, shaving, but not always their chins, combing fine the latinate and grequate, but not always their hair, led by an up-to-his-elbows king ever on the cusp of abdicating, a truck jumping organizer on a don’t-stop muddy road and why, why did he lead us here?

Who? Who?

A dragon fly guy with a heart as big as the Titanic, one-lining us unawares, but soft as little kids’ curiosity,

a young son who dries fungal shunken-witch-doctor-nesses,

a mighty mouse hunter with Dove soft hands,

a front-page photogenic unprincess sticking bugs with voodoo pins,

a sunblushed guy who loves fish enough we maybe should worry about him,

a guy who tugs his left side earlock and knows every fungus but the one between my toes.

And a mom, bless’er, who says she cleans the kitchen for herself, sure, sure!

Competencies I leave out

or am ignorant of, but

almost no swellings of heads,

oh, wait, wait, a suit, shhh!,

act yer age not yer adminspeak,

if they knew how much fun we’re having,

they’d shut us down.

A startling girl from Texas unpacking. (What?)

A brave fish netter whose mother I didn’t get to meet.

One of us sick enough to have to go home.

Painters (canvas, not walls), one of them associated with a guy of such tangential humour I still haven’t figured out his area, maybe 51.

Beetle Man! and his handy, jim-cracker beetle-sucker! whose eye-twinkle just won’t quit!

Sometimes the only commonalities

the penchants to speak geek Greek and a tattered salad of Latin.


A shy snail guy of worthy wit.

A shy ’net whiz acing it.

Shy and semi-shy apprentices,

who nonetheless laugh easily

(some are fond of grilled cheese!),

and a not-shy-at-all foil for the small mammal man!

Guys both girls and boys who tromp through woods and bogs, doing what

their mothers told them not to, involving mud and slime and dust-producing strange growths, and laughing all the way to dinner tables,

The fungus clan, with Fester (private joke), the mammal clan, the shell and fish and fly clans, the leaf and mould and green growth clans, the rubber boot tribe,

the naming names nation, my people, the unsalting of the earth, the who is what by where we live folk, undeniably, indefinably us!

One response to “Ataxonomic, by Wayne Clifford

  1. I tumbled through the poem joyfully! Sounds like it is a marvelously eclectic bunch of talent and character on this bioblitz. Glad I’m not a suit, but really wishing I were more muddy right now. MJ

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