Monday, May 17, 2004

America's Most Popular Obscure Small-town Newspaper

I read about the Arcata Eye's police log in Jon Carroll's column in the Chronicle a few weeks ago. Now I bookmark the link and check it weekly. When I really need a laugh, I go back in the archives and read another week's. Most items in the log are very pithy and frequently are poems such as haiku or limericks.

Click Police Log on
http://www.arcataeye.com/

From the 5-10-04 edition:


She wandered lonely, also loud
And moped on Bottoms o’er subdiville
When all at once, where fields, once plowed
A dose of vulgar language, shrill
Benighted Karen and V streets
Muttering and cursing in the breeze.
Continuous as oaths that rise
And mingle with construction waste
A streak of never-ending cries
Along the margin of a bay
Too bold for even this expanse
Tossing words unworthy as she advanced.
The cops beside her drove, and they
Asked her for some state I.D.
Her red hair, blue mouth on display
In such a jocund swearing spree.
She ranted - raved - but had to stop
When news of Muni Code was brought.
For oft, when Windsong housing sites
Are vandalized or rendered crude
By trashy talk and verbal blight
From pissed-off chicks with language lewd
Who then depart, however shrill
In Sempervirens they must chill.



I was inspired to find the Wordsworth poem that is its basis:


I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.


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