When Wynn was unable to attend one of my gatherings...

...he sent me this email in his place.

(This blog leads me to imagine a posthumous volume of "the artist's"
unpublished work.)

I haven't yet felt the fact of it (I'm not ready to), but I know I'm
going to miss him.

Angelique

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: wynn <wynn@zenx.net>
Date: Aug 23, 2004 11:00 PM
Subject: Re: Important: notes on Aug 21st party

I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the recent party... but, a moment's
reflection on party experiences set me on a poetic journey, and of the
finest sort: the kind that relays a universal experience, to which
everyone can relate. Often, my poetry is merely trite, and selfishly
personal. I have titled this evening's superior composition:

I AM A GREAT POET

It's not my fault;
how could it be?
I want to stay,
but have to pee.

[Well, that is not precisely true.]
[I'm saying pee, but thinking poo.]

What's that you say?
You've got a john?
Heh, no way!
Don't put me on.

Thank you, no,
someone might need it.
I'd hate for them to find I'd peed it.

It's far too kind
that you insist
I use your john
until I've pissed.

[You cannot know I'm pissed right now]
[that I'm about to crap a cow.]

Yes! Of course I'm having fun!
I'll just be off, to Number One.
I'll come right back! I love your party!
[But can't admit I'm feeling farty.]

[Maybe if your tunes were louder!]
[Maybe had I not had chowder!]
[Maybe if your bathroom door]
[weren't half an inch above the floor!]

[Perhaps if I weren't certain of the almost-certain danger]
[of your shower's secret power as a tiled echo-chamber!]

I swear I've had a blast tonight,
so please don't have a fit,
or ever think I just went home
and didn't give a shit.