[Jim Moonan]

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I see dead people. But are they all dead? Must I google? The title is inscrutable. I noticed that Annie titled her first response "Intrinsically Evanescent" which could be a way of describing what the list represents. (I would add "Eclectic".) Is it a celebration of middle names as Roger says? (I don't think so. Bill Hickok was not born Wild. Nor does "Dubya" appear on George W. Bush's birth certificate.) Is it the tapered look? Is it randomness? Is it pointless randomness?

It is shape-driven. There is no rhyme or reason to it except that it tapers; or what we arbitrarily impose on it. It is anti-alphabetical. It made me count. The list reminds me in its own way of the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper album cover with the montage of famous faces. There are 71 faces on the cover. This has 78 names.

It could be that the N is reciting the names as a kind of scrolling through some list that has significance in some way, shape or form.

Long story: I saw a play entitled, The Method Gun here in Boston a few years back. It was in a Black Box Theatre that sat maybe 75-100 people. As the audience filed in there was a tiny yellow pencil and small square of paper on each seat. Instructions were given to write down in clear letters the name of someone in our lives who had impacted us in a good way. They were then collected from us before the performance began. The play itself was a fantastic piece of meta-art that explored a theatre troupe under the direction (and duress) of a man who used a controversial technique called "The Method Gun" to teach his acting students the art of acting). As the performance came to an end, a screen illuminated the back wall of the stage and a slow scroll appeared of all the names collected from the audience. It was a profound moment for me. I waited for the name I had written down. When it appeared at the top off the screen and slowly scrolled down and out of sight I cried.

I don't know if this poem might do that to someone reading it. I hope so.
I'd suggest double spacing the poem/list.

Incidentally, Jack, you yourself are eclectic here on Eratosphere. Why so mystere? I don't mind it, but why?

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