January 2021
Michael Gessner
emailaddress / website
Author's Note:  Satires was the title for an unreleased chapbook containing the poems reproduced here, but like so many titles, it was a label, when I wanted something more telling, and selected Mummeries; homophones of mumbling and memory, or one’s mumblings of memories, (and thus ‘mummies of memory’?) or so I would hope, echoes of Momus.

There are two epigraphs selected as a preface to this little collection, and I’ve included them here to get one ‘into the spirit’ so to speak:

When faced with originality in any art form, our first responses
are often discomfort and bewilderment. We may sense this,
and we know our best literature is never far from the spoof,
the hoax, the put-on, and this is the risk—and the gamble—
       from “The Synecological Poem”

Only now did I understand Goethe’s laughter, the laughter
of the Immortals . . . now, all higher humor begins with this;
that one no longer takes oneself seriously.
       —Herman Hesse

A Review

Clearly, I hadn’t read the submission guidelines carefully, & sent 
four poems instead of three, so I am sorry about that, & understand 
why they were returned so quickly—overnight in fact—& that must 
be some kind of record. I did enjoy your poems, though—from the link 
in your email right under the “Donate” tab—pretty good for an editor.  
Kind of flashy.  They actually made me chuckle.  Remember that word?  
Chuckle?  Remember Chuckles candy?  I do.  Firm squares of jelly that 
stuck to your teeth.  Black was licorice, yellow, lemon, green, spearmint, 
and so on.  I think there were five squares to a package.  I liked the 
wrapping of the package too.  It was like parchment or something.  It crinkled.  
Remember Chuckles the clown?  I call one of the postmen who works 
in the post office here, Mr. Chuckles.  It’s a contemptuous reference tho’.  
He’s suffering from reaction-formation hysteria.  It’s his world response.  
The things he chuckles about aren’t even funny.  He wears lots of flash.  
Flash is a euphemism for cheap, shiny pins & badges on his vest, like “Vote Now,” 
“Make America Great Again,” “Support the Troops,” or “The More You Give, 
The More You Get”.  I haven’t seen him lately.  I think they laid him off.  
One of those cutbacks.  Maybe he found a job somewhere else, maybe at Wal-Mart.  
He’ll make a good greeter, better than that hospital case that works there now.  
In fact, I might mention that your submission window is still open.  You never know,
he might have something to send too.
Originally published in The American Journal of Poetry

Girl With Bags

of breakfast sandwiches from her father’s franchise,
warm, still wrapped in foil, placed them on a desk
in the back of the class, opened her arms and said,
“They’re for anyone who wants them.”  
 
This was on a Saturday morning, the beginning
of the spring session. I ignored her, and continued 
on with our discussion of “This Be The Verse”.
After all, I had to make a point: gratuities
were inappropriate, and any suggestion 
of an exchange of favors was unacceptable,
even if that was beyond her intent.
 
I went on with our survey of the poetry of contempt.  
It was a toss-up between Catullus and Bukowski.
 
By the hour’s end, the sandwiches had grown cold
and dry in their metallic wraps. The students
filed out of the room without a word.
Originally published in The American Journal of Poetry
©2021 Michael Gessner
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell her or him. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL