How about a nice cup of ?WTF? this morning?

Elenor Hany bedazzled the crowd
with her poems read aloud
and a Parker-esque wit and/or quip

but they all turned away
though she begged them to stay
when she offered her middle name: Pip.

Elenor Hany decided to chance
a most memorable dance
on her floor, though she thought she might slip.

As she tumbled and twirled
to the news of the world,
E. Pip Hany maintained a firm grip.

Though no audience saw
what should register awe,
she did know she had startled the gods.

Her accomplishment stay'ity
out of view from the laity.
Of repeat, she thought, "What were the odds?"

An Epiphaneer's Lament

Epiphany is one of those words rarely used in common parlance. As it should be. It is a word reserved for special occasions. What it signifies is a deeply personal positive realization. You can't have a bad epiphany. When Oedipus realizes that he has murdered his father and married his mother, it is not an epiphany. That is not to say epiphanies cannot arise out of darkness. Indeed, I'd guess that most classically defined epiphanies hit people hard when they least expect-and most require-them. It's like the mind creates them to fill the existential void of human experience. Or, if you prefer, God puts them there.

So my ears perked up when I heard the judge use the word in court. He did so in correct context: hoping that my client would emerge from his prison stay, imposed, in part, for punching the life out of his unborn child, a newer, better, moral man: a prisoner's epiphany of the highest order.

But hope for an epiphany is not the same as having one. And sticking someone in a cage is surely no guarantee of enlightenment upon their release.  I told my client to come see me in a year when he gets out.  I hope he does.

Before he was taken from the courtroom, he asked me for my card. "I don't have one. I'm Bloomsday. Ask around. I'm easy to find."