FOOLS RUSH IN
Happy April Fool’s Day!
What is a fool, anyway?
The complex figure of the fool jumps between realms & realities, depending on whether she’s the one doing the fooling or the one being fooled. She might be clever and cunning, beating her foes at their own game. Or, she might find herself feeling tricked and deceived, having fallen for a cruel joke made at her expense.
She may be a refined Shakespearean narrator, bridging the gap between the spectator and the world of the play. Or she may be a total amateur – a newbie, a novice, embarking upon an ambitious journey through unfamiliar lands. In this case, she may have some beginner’s luck on her side, along with deep trust in her intuition as she improvises her way to success.
Historically, fools entertained monarchs with wit & humor. But even beyond the antics and the jokes, fools occupied a privileged position within the royal court: they had license to poke fun and deliver criticism in ways that others were not permitted, theatrically mirroring the characteristics & qualities (however unfavorable) of high-ranking individuals and forcing moments of self-reflection.
We asked our poets to consider all these possible roles of the fool and share their most ‘foolish’ poetry in celebration of April Fool’s Day. The poems you will read below may be silly, funny, or ironic; they may explore the larger archetype of the fool; they may center around ideas of trickery and deception; or, they may dissect how the word ‘fool’ is used in our everyday language & idioms.
Featuring the following poets:
Cari Lynne King
Olivia Gilreath
Amethyst Drake
Cheyanne Leonardo
Laura Clift
R. Clift
Dane Osborne
Frances Denise
Nate Sherwood
Angelia Ross
Eric Faires
Dan Saint Dan
Kelly Messerly
Brandon Thorpe
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
Photo by Frances Denise
FOOLS RUSH IN
TURNABOUT
If fools rush in
I’ll be a dumbass for you
Dive headfirst
into warm waters
even when I can’t
see beneath the surface
I go all-in
everywhere I go
My heart rushes ahead
leaving my brain
vehemently trying
to rein it back in
Loving with every piece
every fiber
every ounce of my being
While forsaking
my haggard self
All to be kept
as another jester in your court
instead of next to you on the throne
I ask you –
Who’s the fool now?
–Cari Lynne King
⚘
THE JESTER’S JIVE
In a world where fools wear crowns so bright,
They prance and they dance, oh what a sight!
With jester hats perched atop their heads,
They juggle our worries and laugh instead.
“Don't be a fool!" we often declare,
Yet, here comes the trickster with mischief to spare.
With a wink and a grin, they pull off a feat,
Turning wisdom to folly, oh, isn't it sweet?
The wise say, “A fool and his money soon part,"
But the fools in the game are playing smart from the start.
“Fool me once, shame on you," they slyly proclaim,
“But fool me twice? Well, that's part of the game!"
So here's to the jesters, the clowns, and the knaves,
For life's much more fun when we dance like the waves.
With cunning and laughter, they show us the way,
In the grand circus of life, let the fools have their day!
–Olivia Gilreath
⚘
THE AVERAGE APRIL FOOL
She lives on the outskirts
Of Limbo.
Just outside their expectations
And always when they least expect it.
Avidly innocent.
Stubbornly naive.
The kind of girl who wants to be
A purple duck
And an astrophysicist.
She inhabits both worlds;
The absurd and the impossible.
Someday she might just make it,
Stake it all on red
And come up smelling like a rose.
But for now,
She’ll get all dressed up in motley
And head on off to school
Content, it seems, to not be
The average April Fool.
–Amethyst Drake
⚘
I AM THE DITHYRAMBLER
*Note: The following poem was originally written and performed by the dithyrambler as a prologue to the 2025 “Love Echoes” Valentine’s Day show at the Rebecca Johnson Theatre in Rugby, TN.
i am the dithyrambler!
welcome to our show!
i’ve prepared a short preamble
with all you ought to know
about the curious jester
who greets you first tonight,
and as your handsome, humble host –
i revel in delight!
have you heard: love echoes?
i speak because i care!
my poetic occupation is
to make the world aware!
so i rattle off my riddles
and ramble through the verse
as if the words were scrambled,
spelling out a curse! –
and my task were to place them
by the letter, dot and cross
into a better order
so the meaning won’t be lost!
i shoot the poet’s arrow –
love echoes through the sky –
i fire flaming rhythm,
hit the evil in the eye!
i free us from the prison
built by language that has failed.
i search instead for symbols
to tailor up the tale.
i mend the missing metaphors,
lend movement back to myth.
i sing for all the chorus
hymns that hit the fifth
syllable of being –
the one defined by change:
the face that feels familiar
wears the mask of something strange!
for i am no fool! –
though on the stage i play
a mirror to society –
i say, don’t look away!
don’t look away from cruelty!
don’t look away from truth!
don’t look away from lunacy
nor foolishness, forsooth –
i am here to urge you –
stare it in the face!
offer your perspective
for the joker beats the ace
in games of higher order –
the rules appear absurd
where the objective is to laugh,
to let the breath be heard!
embrace the present paradox
and comedy, exhume
from its prior resting place
within the tragic tomb.
i am the dithyrambler!
love echoes from the sun!
iambic bursts of starry light
turn two back into one!
and with a happy heartbeat
i amble through the wood,
seek the ancient satyrs
as only a fool could!
white rose in hand, i ask them
if they might share the wine –
i drink from dionysian
wells of wit and rhyme
and write my little ditties,
record the conscious quest
for vestiges of being
to be performed, in jest
before an eager audience!
i joke! – but be it true…
i do implore, do not forget –
the next in line is you
to look up and remember
love echoes o’er the land
and you alone can capture
the sound of god’s command
ringing reason in your ear,
and in the heart resounds
the even beat of earth’s reply:
now freedom has been found!
i am the dithyrambler!
and here, with all my friends –
love echoes loud in harmony
from now until the end!
–Cheyanne Leonardo, from ‘I AM THE DITHYRAMBLER’
⚘
“I don’t know when,” she said. “But at some
point, showing my feelings– how much I really
care– became a foolish thing to do.”
“What was it like before?” her friend asked.
“When I was young? I was reckless with love. I
wove flower crowns and best friend necklaces
and confessed my little heart’s love like a
challenge.
I want that back. The bravery to look someone
in the eye and say No– I do care. I care so much
I could love you for lifetimes.
And if that makes me a fool– let them laugh.”
–Laura Clift
⚘
Eros told me I was glowing
the night we met— and I
confessed— “I think I fell
in love” I said
He grinned and asked me about you— I told him
how your voice was wrapped around me and for the
first time in five years I actually wanted to be
touched
I didn’t push it all away. I let myself feel. I let
myself chase after you in the foolish ways people
in love do. I handed you a piece of my soul and
you took it.
–R. Clift
⚘
IF LIFE IS JUST A DREAM, LET IT BE THIS ONE
after Gabrielle M. Young
if life is just a dream, let it be this one:
the one where we wake
enchanted
enraptured
by the seething sunday rain,
braiding and binding the boughs of our bodies,
holding the hierophant
one arm’s length away.
i could ask you again about that time last summer
i was walking down your front steps and looked up.
i saw the treetops
aglow with glinting granules,
sublunary stars.
as if our elfin earth had been exalted.
electrified.
i called for you to “come quick!” i said,
“you’ve got to see this!”
you appeared by my side and found me hyptotized.
“look,” i pointed. “magic.”
“it’s the fireflies,” you said.
“they do this every night.”
and at first i didn’t believe you
because how could i have gone my whole life
without seeing something so obvious,
so mundane?
how did i have no way to explain
something so simple?
still –
i’d rather believe in the dream.
celebrate the cipher of this reality.
for i am no fool
stumbling with a white rose
toward my own untimely demise.
(but then again, aren’t we all?)
and so we open our eyes.
–Cheyanne Leonardo, from angel falls
⚘
INVISIBLE AND FOREVER
There is no peace amid the savagery of night
Processed by the public mind
Which introduced us all to electric love.
There is no time
There is no space
Without the ego.
What is the ego?
Why you'll lose your mind trying to find out and you'll discover
There is no mind just an infinity of finite images which induce sensation.
The rest is called meaning and that fills in the gaps.
You'll find meaning between speaking to the fool or the magician.
The fool pretends to be foolish
But understands reality better than all those
Who laugh at him.
The magician?
He believes he can bend reality with his mind
But then becomes a slave of his mind (which does not
Really exist?)
Beyond that is the invisible space....no-being
That speaks its own language (that we don't speak)
The invisible is Infinite and that's another word
Which describes forever.
–Dane Osborne
⚘
ADDRESS
Latitude a647g1012.697521
Longitude h34u8964.1448877
Where the 4th tip of the tetrahedron
Meets the 19th face of the icosahedron
And the point at which
My favorite shade of turquoise turns 25 degrees more towards blue
Yes, beyond this atmosphere
No, you don't need a space suit
The place is
Immaterial
Filled with white light
There,
You'll find the lamp
Set on a rosewood post
Burning with a blue flame
That's where you'll find me
When this old world blows to pieces
That's where I'll be
Singing us to sleep
–Frances Denise
⚘
ABSURDITY
the only answer is to excavate the comedy
from the tomb of tragedy –
to howl at the moon of a world
that drives its own heroes to seek
an escape from the very place
they came to save –
and build something beautiful,
made real by belief alone.
creation out of chaos is a laugh leaving
the lips – this
guttural utterance
made buoyant by incredulity –
by the gap between what ought to be
possible – purely permissible –
and whatever awful thing is
playing out instead. for all
will face the fate
of the dead.
whether taken by
a midnight wind, with head full of
sweet dreams. or drenched in blood –
forty-two cuts – glass broken, open
bleeds
the deepest wound of hatred
and heaven offers tears –
her veins run into rivers –
as sorrow shapes the years –
every word becomes a ballad
for which the metre heard
has heartbeat in its essence,
like mirth in the absurd:
expand, contract
explode, step back
punctuate the breath
short, long – and stop
bottom to top
from birth return to death.
so have a laugh
with one, two math
and forge a little key
for soul to use –
unlock the ruse –
and see absurdity –
–Cheyanne Leonardo, from The Book of Abstractions
⚘
SELF-PORTRAIT AS FISH LEGS
I am a leaky faucet
gallop, crash, ram—ing
the cool, indifferent porcelain of my basin.
Like Little Mermaid with a fish head
flipping and flopping on an arid shore.
Chafed, half-skin gills gasping between dampened slaps,
warbling a gurgling wail like a fork
rocking violently in a toaster,
So too does my Slapping Water
Shake the World
–Nate Sherwood
⚘
FUNHOUSE MYSTERY
There are big mirrors inside the Blue Funhouse.
Who you see in the mirrors will see you too.
Step inside and genetic humans
Will give you guidance transmitted by the zodiac
Through shiny red television machines.
Each room is a different dream
But the music stays the same.
(The dreams are from inside your head)
–Dane Osborne
⚘
INTO A DREAM
Trees are budding
After a long rest,
And birds are gathering
Materials for their nest.
Butterflies float along
On a cool breeze,
And pollen tickles noses
Until they sneeze.
Fish jump so high
They nearly touch the sky,
And the bubbling of a stream
Lulls one into a dream
Until chiggers invade the britches –
Oh, how it itches, itches, itches.
–Angelia Ross, from Shadows of the Heart
⚘
CENTS FOR NONSENSE
I smile
When I think of when my sister said
“If we aren't delusional,
Then what are we even doing here?"
The rational ones who pass judgement
Forget that even they
Have risked something
Anything
To feel alive
To feel in love
In a foolishly intense way
That feels like survival
Even they speak lies secretly
In the privacy of their own rooms.
Even on the days our deception
Grows tiresome
Nobody fully empties their pockets
Nobody surrenders
Every dollar or penny
To honesty.
Or anarchy.
I giggle
When I think of
When my 10-year-old son
Walked into the kitchen saying
“Mommy, I saw my reflection in two mirrors
Facing each other!
And it's really changed my perception of reality!"
Another time, he said
“I once dreamed that I was dreaming"
And it made me wonder
How deep am I?
And by that I mean
How deep am I into this dream within a dream
Within a dream?
And how many times over?
For no particular reason
I'd like to know the number.
I find it amusing
How we are masters of dreaming
And of deceiving
Ourselves
Often to the point of forgetting where we stand
Until
We catch a glimpse
A clue!
Like in the smile of such tricksters
As the Cheshire Cat
Who appeared and disappeared to Alice
Without a trace of malice.
Sure, there are infinite
Intertwining corridors
For you to explore
But
You need not travel very far
You need not turn on the tel-a-vision
You only need to read a face
Or peek into a dictionary
You only need to zoom in into the microworlds
And zoom out beyond the planetary
You only need to squint your eyes
And shift your focus
From the foreground
To the background
Until one of them is blurry
To discover
And rediscover
That we are quite
Extraordinary
In how we write
Our tragedies
And our love stories
–Frances Denise
⚘
TEA PARTY
Twirling teacups
spinning out of control
Best not follow the rabbit
down his black hole
The ludicrous hatter
with all his neuroses
The impassioned queen
showcases broken hearts as trophies
A smoke-shrouded caterpillar
imparts the wisdom of change
But imaginative little Alice
finds none of it strange
–Cari Lynne King
⚘
INNOCENCE
Am I naive?
Or did I just choose to be blind
For my own sanity?
Or... safety?
One way, perhaps
Of returning to myself
What was taken from me
I am not immune to lies
Nor cruelty
But I look elsewhere, sky
A curated comfort
Like sheltering children
From true horror
Or unnecessary heartbreak
Creating a home with clouded windows
Breathing kindness,
A new canvas they can sketch on
Because maybe
It's possible, maybe
It's worth it –
Preserving, protecting
Restoring
Innocence
–Frances Denise
⚘
FOR A SOUL LOST IN TIME
Can you remember the white summers
In the time of innocence?
The feeling of warm water under the sultry
Night made me remember the liberation
Of my birth.
Your skin was soft as silk
And as you shone
Under the glaring sun
I had sworn
That no one
Could
Ever
Touch you with their plagues and their lies.
Your skin is now burnt and charred
And the water....evaporated.
You know all about
The monster in us all and
The blind eyes of mercy.
The bright and flickering lights grew dim
And died out.
But please remember
Just for me
That peace can be found
In a dream.
–Dane Osborne
⚘
ME, PAP, AND OUR JOKE
Sunlight filters through the trees
As their leaves dance in a breeze.
Placing our seemingly unopened
Hershey bar wrappers on
A big sand rock,
Pap and I laugh at our joke,
Then down the old logging road we go;
Talking about log cabins, bobcats,
Wiggle tails and stagnated mud puddles,
Around which I have to guide him.
On and on we go until we reach the creek.
Pap sits down on a log
And I eagerly peer into
The clear, whispering water
In hopes of finding crawdads.
But those hopes are soon dashed,
For not a one do I see.
Pap thinks they found out we were coming
And scurried down the stream.
Can’t say I blame them.
With that mission down the drain,
I turn my attention to the
Mysterious meadow across the way
And wish with all my might
That Pap will say we can explore it.
But for the thousandth time
His answer is no.
Disappointment fills me.
Then I sigh and think,
Oh well, maybe next time.
With evening nigh at hand,
Up the old logging road we go;
Talking about birds, squirrels, trees,
And stagnated mud puddles,
Around which I have to guide Pap.
Then on and on we go
Until we come to the big sand rock.
I tell Pap our Hershey bar wrappers
Are still there,
And we laugh once more at our joke.
–Angelia Ross, from Shadows of the Heart
⚘
MY ANNUAL CAN OF SPAM
Special Processed American Meat
A treat.
Sizzle Pork And Mmmm
Chopped, cubed, in taco, ymmm
SPiced hAM
Hot damn!
Born of Great Depression, 1937
Eighty-five years on, tastebud heaven
Nourished soldiers in WWII
Pop top lid, can of blue
Satisfying click as the lid comes off
SPAM slides out, on the plate goes “PLOP”
Slice it thick, skillet getting hot
Set it in the pan, while the grease goes “POP”
Put it on bread, maybe a biscuit
Wheat Thins, Rye Crisps, salty reliable trusty Triscuit.
Lu-zee-anna Hot Sauce, Tobasco, Texas Pete
Splash it all over, bring on the heat.
Browned and crispy, makes such a fine treat
However you eat it, it’s by far the best meat.
The folks at Hormel know to pump up the jam
Start that Christmas party, get you some SPAM.
–Eric Faires, from Hometown Poems
⚘
HAIKU FOR DENNY’S
Ham and egg breakfast
Small investment for the hen
The pig is all in
–Dan Saint Dan, from Hometown Poems
⚘
GRANNY’S GRAVY
Granny is in the kitchen
With me under foot.
On the eye of the gas stove
She puts a cast iron skillet.
In goes a tablespoon
And a half of lard.
She lets that melt,
Then adds a heaping tablespoon of
White Lily self-rising flour
And a dusting of salt.
As the mixture cooks,
Someone knocks on the front door.
Granny sends me to investigate.
It’s our neighbor Eva.
She’s in familiar form.
A cigarette in one hand,
A cup of coffee in the other,
And barefooted as a jackrabbit.
Granny turns off the stove
And sets the skillet on a cold eye.
Then her and Eva sit on the couch,
Catching up on the neighborhood goings-on.
After a while I go back into the kitchen,
Drink some water,
And stare at Granny’s gravy beginnings.
Suddenly an idea pops
Into my head.
Surprise Granny.
I turn on the stove
And put on the skillet,
Stirring Granny’s mixture
Until it’s not burnt,
But dark brown.
I pour in the milk, stir, and cook
Until it looks like Granny’s.
I turn off the stove,
And set the skillet aside.
There’s a feeling of fear and excitement.
Eva leaves – finally,
And Granny heads for the kitchen.
“Uh, Granny, I finished the gravy.”
“And you probably made a mess of it.”
Her tone is sharp,
And anger lights up her pale blue eyes.
Oh, boy, I am in trouble.
She looks at the gravy – tastes it,
“Hum, pretty good.”
I sigh with relief.
–Angelia Ross, from Shadows of the Heart
⚘
I wouldn’t have it any other way,
but a heart full of empathy
aches and sinks,
weighed down by the endless tide of
compassion and concern for
all she sees—
as when my chest tightened
and tears flowed
at the sight of a deer, lifeless,
on the side of the road.
And then, as I neared,
I wept harder still,
as the terrible truth hit:
my tears were for
a lonely, abandoned
couch cushion,
thrown or blown
from the back of a truck,
and I realized
I am a just a
nearsighted idiot.
But, also,
that poor, lonely
couch cushion.
–Kelly Messerly
⚘
WHEN VENGEANCE MEETS HUMIDITY
Bat-Man takes no shit
While the summer heat kills all
The mystery dead.
–Dane Osborne
⚘
WILD FUR BABIES
Oh, what peepers I do see,
Gold and wise,
In disguise to wake me up.
But I’ve already
Beaten you to it,
Because I’ve got fur babies
Screaming in my ears.
Get up Human Mommy.
Human Mommy feed us.
Oh, what peepers I do see,
Gold and wise,
You are not picky about your food,
But my bottomless fur babies are
And they scream in my ears
Until they get what they want,
So I must go for now.
Oh dear, someone’s very unhappy with me.
Wait, Mr. Gold Eyes!
Mr. Gold Eyes might I
Hang out with you for a while?
Just long enough for my
Fur babies to calm down?
Aaaa! They are wrecking the place!
Stop it you little spoiled brats!
Well, there went my horse lamp.
That’s interesting.
I didn’t know horsey lamps could fly.
–Angelia Ross, from Shadows of the Heart
⚘
GETTING HIGH WITH SPIDER MAN
It could be a long and boring day
There’ll be old religious people,
who judge me either way,
but it might be worse,
if I'm visibly faded.
Then you’ll have to worry
the whole time that you’re there
can they smell it on your clothes
can any of them tell?
But before you have to decide,
that one other family member
calls you outside, and everyone
else there knows what you’re
doing the whole time.
10 minutes later you guys
walk back in smiling.
You think your aunt Helen
looks like she’s mad
but overhear her saying
“If that’s all they’re doing, I’m glad”
You remember relatives in the 90s who
did the same thing,
except they were crouching behind
caskets and birthday cakes
doing bumps of cocaine
So don’t feel guilty, it’s really fine,
just hold off if you’ve gotta drive.
–Brandon Thorpe
⚘
PLAY
this october, round the block
we’ve seen monarchs on our walks
like rumors fly – though without wings;
the fool arrives and starts to sing
a song of hope, a jester’s joke.
pass the pipe, i need a toke
to take my tired mind away
from callous clowns who claim to pray
then revel in another’s ache.
(they call it fun, i call it fake!)
we see through your ruthless ruse:
you made two sides, then made us choose!
this kind of play won’t win the game.
a kinder king would not take aim
at girls who follow after dreams
far beyond your sad regime
and all your manic, mad demands –
we queens will heed our own commands.
–Cheyanne Leonardo, from The Book of Abstractions
⚘
An outspoken Queen will never be perceived as wise as a foolish king.
–R. Clift
⚘
IMAGINATIVE FOOLS
You know what?
I don't know.
I just don't know.
I see shadows that are cast on today
And those that the clouds took away
I see sunshine on that forgotten corner
Of my very small world
And I could make up stories
And let people direct them to me
I can make all of this mean
All sorts of different things
Good things, bad things,
Exhilarating, dreamy, practical things
But the truth is
I do not know a single thing
For absolutely certain
We could be very wise
Or we could just be a bunch
Of imaginative fools
Passing the time
–Frances Denise
⚘
PEOPLE OF THE MALARIA REPUBLIC
Light of forgotten childhood dream
Resurfacing after the storm.
Can we shatter our contraptions
And the malevolent voodoo man
With the golden fingers who
Turns their keys?
People Of The Malaria Republic,
Why are you mocking me?
Our power over the little man in
Our heads who whispers into our psyches
Will eventually grow.
I already said it before,
Please stop mocking me.
We are paying the piper for the right
To follow him, his demented tune takes
Our mind off our ever so graceless confusion.
The light fades from my sight and
The voodoo man wants his money.
–Dane Osborne
⚘
ABANDON
There is a state of agitation so pure,
it folds under its own weight
and smothers you with a sensation of
casual acceptance.
A feeling poorly categorized,
but described most accurately as a
“fuck it”
moment.
Imagine being faced suddenly with violence.
The initial instinct is to avoid it,
but then you’re shoved, or spit on,
and as quickly as the electrical signals
can travel their pathways,
you are moved completely and totally
outside of fear,
left with only
eager desire to get your licks in
before the crowd
tears the two of you apart.
You’re resigned to be arrested,
to lose the fight and be hurt,
possibly killed, but it doesn’t matter.
It was all just a little too much,
and you said
Fuck it.
And for people,
I worry, it works this way with other things.
Two people too in love.
Friends, family, romantic partner,
you’ve feared a life without them
until they hurt you bad enough,
and it hurts so much worse than
that sucker punch
because you love them so much.
And two people can get like this,
and move beyond the safe confines of fear
and willfully usher in their own nightmares,
each hoping the other flinches first,
but no one does
and with stone faces
they break their own hearts.
–Brandon Thorpe
⚘
HER FOOLISH HEART
Loving ears burn like hot coals
to hear news that will shatter the heart.
Trapped hopelessly within
a moral tar pit.
I have been gnawed and spat forth
from a quagmire of selfish perdition.
Words begat terrible emotion
spilling forth like poison
from a stolen chalice.
In a fit of useful candor
two worlds quake from within.
These careless deeds so callously confessed.
What recompense can mend
her foolish heart?
–Amethyst Drake
⚘
I wanted this to be over— this terror and disgust and embarrassment— and the realization that we’ve found ourselves back where we started is sickening. I’m wearing dread like a chain around my neck and it’s weighing me down like it did when the whole world shut down. I look at people I’ve known my entire life and for the first time I am so ashamed of them and it breaks my heart because the little girl that looked up to them for decades wants to know why she wasn’t enough for them to choose her over greed or their own willful ignorance. Hope is not a feathered thing— it is swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks and I feel like a fool for ever believing in change for this country.
–R. Clift
⚘
DECADENCE
i no longer fit
in the hip
part of town.
under the bridge
i live – burned down –
requesting a coin
in exchange for the word
we all forgot
when no one heard
the trill of the trumpet
singing the name
hallowed and holy and
who was to blame?
for a bond so barren
and a wound so deep –
give them goods but keep
them cheap! for one to produce
while the other buys: “the cost
requires we sell some lies!”
contrive a disguise!
obscure what’s true!
success is the art
of how to construe
the facts in your favor
then make up the rest.
invent a great farce!
bad faith does it best!
believe your own fiction!
beguile yourself!
your compass collects
cobwebs on a shelf
where morals are mingled
with rot and decay –
d e c a d e n c e
drives the fading away,
falling short of the glory
and far from the tree
god grew from the ground
we once walked – free –
–Cheyanne Leonardo, from The Book of Abstractions
⚘
PLAYING THE FOOL
I can play the fool, yes
Somebody's got to do it
The deck won't be a deck
Without the court jester
Breaking the seriousness
With comical
Musical
Mischievous gestures
I'll play the fool
Way
Much better
Than those old, masked clowns
Hiding behind
Palaces and White Houses
Aren't we all waiting for the cards
To fall
So completely?
So we can finally laugh our way out
Of the humiliation?
Of the repeated resuscitation?
We can all play fools
Right up to the end
To when the curtain vanishes
After all,
We all went along
We watched it all happen
From outside of ourselves
Comforted by how
Humor would always smooth things out
I can play the fool
Until the last man rubs the sleep
Off his eyes
And meets the emperor
Naked and alone
He never had a castle
Or any grand robes at all
–Frances Denise
⚘
MAGIC
what’s up with the hawks
flying low to the ground,
settled on signs
in the middle of town?
there, where they
stop –
what world will be found?
i’m out to ask around –
when will the king be crowned?
the crows are cursing
the traitorous trees
watching the hawks
come conquer – with ease! –
their haven of branches
and hypotheses –
new birds emerge: no murder of thieves!
who knows what crow perceives
when hawk bespeaks the leaves –?
just what should we make
of this war in the yard –
in the oak by the street –
where the wings stand guard –
beneath the half-moon
and the curious stars –
a picture as quaint as it is bizarre! –
magic unmasks the opening
card –
–Cheyanne Leonardo, from The Book of Abstractions
⚘
BREADCRUMBS
Breadcrumbs are for following –
A curiously entertaining treasure hunt
Well, I put them there
Created this legendary trail
Winding, spiraling, sometimes straight
Clarity, confusion, puzzles, unraveling
Several surprises
A reflection of my creativity
Perhaps humor...
Yes, a healthy dose of humor –
We cannot be without that
Then sprinkle in a kick in the butt
Or two
'Coz there ain't nothing like a good jolt every once in a while.
This is, after all, the greatest show the earth has ever seen
A comeback of what it means to be human
The approaching remembrance that we are children of the stars
We somehow forgot that even the night sky is a mirror
Spectacular, just like we are
We've just been looking at our feet for too long
Like those indie shoegazers,
Long hair covering their faces
Their guitars hanging low
Blasting melancholy through the amplifiers.
Hmmmm...
Let's send them love letters!
Whispering “look up just a tad"
There's more to existence that those shoe laces
A cordial invitation
In a style irresistible to your personality
Simply
Because I love you.
One foot on the path now
Then the other
Fingers reaching for the heavy velvet curtain
One eye peeking through the opening
Hesitant at first
But more than ready
To explore what's on the other side.
Welcome to the breadcrumb trail!
I hope you will enjoy the show
Sgt. Pepper takes a bow
And sends his regards
–Frances Denise
⚘
WHITE SCIENCE
Yes I have keys
For the time travel machine.
This clever device stays hidden up in my attic
And runs decent on clean running fuel.
I get to know ancient Mongol hordes
On a future tomorrow.
–Dane Osborne
⚘
THE DANCE OF TIME
As time marches on, the seasons change
Moments drift by, both tender and strange.
The sun rises high, then sets in the west,
Each tick of the clock, a life's fleeting quest.
Memories linger like whispers in the air,
Echoes of laughter, of love, and care.
With each passing day, we grow and we learn,
In the dance of the hours, our hearts burn brightly.
So cherish the now, let the future unfold,
For time is a story, both precious and bold,
As we journey onward, hand in hand we'll stay,
Embracing the moments, come what may.
–Olivia Gilreath
⚘
DEATH WOBBLE
Within most lives there is a phase
where you push away your childish things
Feeling embarrassed, how
long did you wait?
You’re too old, you grew up
too late.
And one makes a show of
how they’ve grown, and mocks
old things,
wears different clothes, speaks a new way,
part of this phase is the irreverent
way you make fun of stuff you hate
nothing is sacred,
everyone’s stupid
everything’s lame.
You’ve figured it out,
caught on to the game
seen behind the curtain,
things can’t be the same.
Time is a violent pendulum that swings
with wild abandon, and smashes through
things in its path.
Just as it comes to rest,
it starts to swing back.
You go too far then over-correct.
You yearn for magical purpose
through the storm in your head,
you start to believe
the gibberish scribbled on the walls
of your skull
might actually mean something.
Sure, one day we’re all gonna die.
but your feet are on the ground.
The little bugs and the plants
can’t lie.
Today is sunny,
a few bright white clouds in the sky.
Everything in your heart,
everything you feel,
it sure seems to me that love might be real.
Maybe it’s just chemicals in my head
but that’s not how it feels.
the fool stands a fool not due to
their ignorance,
but is stricken dumbfounded
from too much experience.
There comes a part in this lifelong process
where you start to deconstruct simple topics.
Cars are just robot suits you wear to go fast
with a pair of sun blockers and a tank full
of gas.
And all in your mouth
there are exposed bones
coming out of your head
and if they get damaged
other humans have gone
to school to learn to
repair them.
And it sucks, it hurts,
but we have to try
if a mouth bone gets infected
you could go septic and die.
Bugs are just cordless plants
with a software update.
They were supposed to be the main character,
but resigned themselves to a supporting role,
because they’re the only ones who know
It’s all just a TV show.
–Brandon Thorpe
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
For more foolish fun,
join the Dandelion Scribes this evening at the Black Cat…
PLAYING THE FOOL
A Theatrical Poetry Performance
TODAY! Tuesday, April 1, 2025.
ONE NIGHT ONLY!
Location: The Black Cat, 250 S Main St., Oneida, TN 37841.
Showtime 6pm, with local author book sale & animal totem readings starting before the show at 4pm.
Featuring poetry and foolery by the dancing dithyrambler (played by Cheyanne Leonardo) and the Dandelion Scribes: Cari Lynne King, Angelia Ross, Dane Osborne, Brandon Thorpe, and Frances Denise. With an original one-act theatre performance starring Stephen Phillips & silly songs by local musical artists! Special guests Josh Ayers & Olivia Immitt.
Tickets are $10 each.
Light refreshments (drinks & snacks) for sale.
*Note: Please be aware our show will contain a few instances of mild adult language/humor.
Share these funny faces with your friends and help us spread the word!
With endless love & gratitude,
