January 13th 2024 Happy Lxv-th birthday Matthew Scott Harris
January 13th 2024 - Happy Lxv-th birthday Matthew Scott Harris
date of conception:? ~ Late March – mid April 1958.
date of parturition: January xiii, mcmlix.
date of expiration:? January i, eminem,
where earth, wind, and fire doth usher
hootie and the blowfish
on a green day
and a three dog night
three doors down from foo fighters.
A gangly, horribly measly, and scraggly bundle
of lovely bones even as a lad
(way to skinny to appease wicked witch)
chee boo came out kicking and screaming
and he never stopped since
that's how I will get carried out.
Yours truly an aging married baby boomer
(orangutan missing link)
long haired pencil necked geek
(constantly clearing phlegm from his throat)
trademark disheveled characteristics
whipsawed ever faster around sun
quickly ratcheting and spiraling tornado like
nearly 30 kilometers per second,
or 67,000 miles per hour clip;
while sprawled atop earth,
he journeyed, jumpstarted, kickstarted,
launched countless planetary orbitz
quintessentially retracing trajectory
when Gaia linkedin courtesy gravity
maintaining invisible bond with Helios.
He (best nutty buddy
and alter ego of mine),
which birth sported an ordinary
uneventful, nevertheless miraculous
combination platter visited
ejaculation, menstruation, secretion
nsync with erratic spastic seminal kicks
divine fertilization usually took place
in a fallopian youtube
playing mine unrehearsed debut appearance
after an ovary to the uterus
wrought conception, which
begat biological reproductive process
fostered embryonic development
'o Boyce and Harriet straggly heir,
one male progeny mostly
gangly lovely bones mox nix
cellular division yes genesis
I rem:member being born
as an a door able beatle browed talking head
super tramping cheap tricks
immediately kickstarted and triggered
goo goo doll foo fighter enfant terrible
terrifically soulfully bellowing;
also envision Dolby surround sound
without assistance courtesy
Gran Prix (for poetic purpose
pronounceable sex pistols pricks).
Upon due date when water broke
vaguely analogous to how rice krispies
snapped, popped, and crackled;
firstly his crown emerged out cervix
ain't got pushed by no
heavy duty contractions out birth canal
no siree but propelled seven plus pounds
courtesy infantile flatulence
asthma noggin heralded
scrawny declaration, now celebrating lx
plus four ellipses around nearest star,
subsequently skinny arms and legs
(I'll spare ye the bloody graphics
with the afterbirth regarding
placenta and fetal membranes
discharged from the uterus
after the birth of offspring),
whence obstetrician able, eager,
ready, and willing to secure newborn
in swaddling raiment
affirming proud parents
their healthy baby boy
underscored with italics
readied to receive pronounced hosannas
regarding garden variety
generic wrinkled likened
to an old manikin newborn.
Within some now nondescript building
then named The Christ Hospital
location Mount Auburn
Cincinnati, Ohio
(the Buckeye state)
record number C57587
gingerly handled courtesy
Doctor James Mackay McCord
(ushering none other than me
into the webbed wide world)
bestowed upon bosom
of Harriet Harris (maternal parent),
after thy young mother
experienced brief labor
as his bonny head and bony derrière easily
slipped out uterine crypt,
whereby with Vernix
caseosa, the waxy or cheese substance,
he appeared er made
rather wicked, matted, and dipped
in tallow, thence unexpectedly whipped
minuscule fist ready to bump.
Once placenta and fetal membranes
(unnecessary as wing ding)
discharged out uterus
after birth of offspring,
and thar weren't no more
major contractions in the offing
ma mommy lovingly did cling
to her bundle of joy and bring
maternal breast I ravenously
did suckle fortunately toothless
against her tender bosom trickling
(if mammary serves me correctly),
I presently recall no iota of inkling
what events transpired, nope
no recollection
about me being circumcised.
Traditionally a mohel is a rabbi,
cantor or another religious leader
who performs brit milah,
or bris, a circumcision ceremony,
on an 8-day-old.
Moost likely I felt Jew bull lent
glad yours truly chose decent
mother and father, which opinion
subjected to radical change,
when as grown adult child
living nonsocial under
their roof housing forced to hire agent
provocateur to practice sparring,
when standoff event on horizon,
which eventually begat ultimatums,
where mutual quiet riot revulsion
swallowed me into a black hole
their red hot poker rage spent
belittling, cursing, damning...
quiet as Unitarian Church mouse content
internalizing later smoldering
anger I needed to vent
in retrospect diminutive little boy
tied to mama's apron strings
afflicted with mental
health issues inherent
of course hindsight gleaned
social, psychological, neurological...
healthy development got rent
asunder partly explaining
why I became indigent
cuz absolute zero ambition
to hustle and convince
prospective employers to hire me
an astute candidate with
deaf fin knit muted confidence.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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