Front Cover

Rarely Published
by Kent Clair Chamberlain

To Mrs. Helen Frost Herrick who was responsible for my appearance in “The International Who’s Who in Poetry” and “The Dictionary of International Biography.”

Page 1

Blustering Buffet of Weighty Promise

Don’t
Dip your Salad Green with a
Rounded
Spoon, or you will come to
Grief.

No
Wing the Heaped Potatoes
Mashed in
Glee, with An Off-Color
Knife for
Thrusty Blade.

And Never Scoop the Varied
Gravy
Upside down or Underhand, or you’ll
Exit,

Late,

In more Mannerisms than One!

Page 2

Heart’s Madison

“Sometimes the best recollection of the military lies not in the victories won, but the memory of one’s Buddy.”

How shall I Remember Patrick Proud, the
Man with the Winning Smile, the
Ringing
Voice, and the
Call to

Religion?
Yet How in Hardness Should I
Ever,
Calloused,
Forget?
Great is Comradeship Approaching Love

Deny I
Not my Portion of Tenderness
from Heaven
Fallen!

Page 3

Bard of Bolts

Not-Withstanding ALL this Fuss
About
Circuits and Pro- and Con- -Grams,
the

Lowly
Computer May Zing, a Poet
Reeling
From the Intensity of its
Feeling and Other Things.
“Gibber Like a Gobbered Turnip.”

“Let
Crab-grass Be Your
Umbreller.

“Wake, for the Mad
Programmer
Dirty of
Intents…”

Etcetera, and Out.

Page 4

To Blear of Youth, I Sing!

Why Do you Sorrow, Orpheus,

Before the
Half-Time of your Years so

Filled with
Treasure
Commences with its Entry of
Grace and
Patience’ Blessing?

And why do I Hear your
Voice
Distraught Nearly Knock the Rafters
Batty, with your
Two-bit Cater-Wauling

Lay to Rest your
Potpourri of Haunting Tares, the
Nova’s Wisdom of Advancing

Page 5

Age shall
Set your
Doubting Straight, with
Ice of
Contentment’s Unending
Joy to
Greet your Noble Spirit
Susceptible to
Marring!

Page 7

Sinais Has Seen Da Gloria…

Get Along, Skit-A-long
My
Sore Toe.
Radd-A-Doo, Skadda-do, Ee-Gawdze!
Where is
Moses?
Bull-Rushes, Dull Rushes, my
Aunt
Zed!

What’s the Pi-Anist do when his
Cadenzas are
Deadly?

‘Nuff sed, Fellah, Just Spiffing the
Ivories a

Bit…
Hope the
Waters Don’t Divide Until I’ve
Neated up the
Latice Lazooia…

Page 6

Is There a Kingdom?

There is a World
Beyond the
Verge of
Consciousness?

And there the
Dearly Remembered Orbit, in their
Light
Pure of Mortality’s Frustration.
There
Hovers the Voice of all our
Mortal
Hopes, the
Citadel and Goal of all our
Earthly
Years!

Page 8

No Roomer at my Inn!

Wandermind stroked his wavy beard and yawned, for he was nearly exhausted from his day’s hiking, and longed to set his back-pack down for the coming night. His clothing possessed for style only his individuality, which was to prove unthinkable in the village of ZENOPHORE he came upon, and became filled with hope anew for lodging. With joy he noted the single inn seemed almost desolate for tenant:

FASHIONMOLD HOMOTHINK it was called, with an undersign, FEODORE THE ROGUE, NEVER ONCE SLEPT HERE.

“Oh, cousin three times removed, what they won’t put up for advertising,” chuckled Wandermind to himself, as Tightkeep, whose shaven-head overweightness loomed in odd complement to his blandly-fashionable costume, blushed and winced as he converged to interrogate his prospective lodger.

Wandermind had already filled out the card in highly-weary hopes. Tightkeep picked it up, shook it, read its contents most lipfully, and then held it up to the light (perhaps to see if it contained some precious element) with a blank-face stare.

Page 9

“Is not Maximonious Ten,” he demanded boomingly and without perceptible emotion,” the most benevolent ruler Zenophobians have ever had? Should not his rule be established over your own city of – of –“ (here he blushed, winced, some more, and just about choked) “PEREGRINZ?

“First let me see his treatment of the tenants of prisons and asylums,” Returned Wandermind, scarcely covering bemusement.

After gasping, wincing, coughing, and staring off into blank spaces, the other returned to his concordance –

“Do you believe THE STATE SHOULD CHOOSE, LEST WE ALL SHOULD LOSE?”

By now the queried was ready for reply –

“What if your Macronius Yen is not aware of our feelings, desires and aspirations as individuals, and stifles all initiative within his goofy empire?”

“I am very sorry,” sighed Tightkeep with evident relief, “but we have no room for your kind-here.”

“Might I ask why your inn is like a funeral parlor?” asked Wandermind, with bleary-eyed wit. “Because only a cadaver could answer all the questions succinctly!” – and left, chuckling upon the stiff air behind him.

Spying others in the same roomless plight, many well-dressed, they banded together in sharing of common expulsion.

Page 10

“We have one bad trouble Zenophobians cannot understand. We think FOR OURSELVES. And we may only thank Ahura Mazda they are not hunting us down unto carrion. We may build a fire over the ridge, in unison of purpose. For the nights are very cold. For whatever the diverse outcomes of our independent principles, we must, for mutual safety, pledge our right to think, in common. We do so, for all of us.” Just then a previously-ignored sentry sneezed behind them, followed by an army of constant starers. Some had stones, others, clubs. It was only through a concerted advancement by unarmed freethinkers that their curious troupe was allowed to pass in safety. Exiled, harried, torpedoed, they would come to understand how much they needed each other’s warmth and comfort, wherever they should pass.

First Serial Rights.
Editors plus myself granted full reprint and performance permission for use of material.

Page 11

Yellowed – Brick Sombriety

Goodbye, Dear Dorothy, good –
Bye, your
Oz of Pills is Ended, and your
Stridenting
Travail.

Enter your “Over-the-Rainbow”
With as
Much Ease as Can a New-Comer
Unsure.
Lament, O Munchkins, Gillikans, and
All, at

Harvest
Gross!
Glinda Good – With, where was you
Fortifying
Wand?!

Page 12

Agate Desert Meditation
“Around White City, Or – 97501.”

Granite – Strewn sea of
Glowing
Grasses,
Dry as Reservoirs of
Faith of
Old in
Rulers and Doers and
Parched summer
Burn, your
Rolling Expanse by Strange mountains
Watched,
Waves of True Freedom,
Not
Blarney Flags.

Page 13

This is True Freedom,
Not the
Chants, Excuses for Respectlessness
and

Political
Smear, Crucifous of Truth, at
Last, Awakened, from the Inner
Heart!

Not Blarney flags Inherit ASGARD
but
Only
Plummeting Ragnarok!

Page 14

For Nations’ Good

High Names
Like
Leaves,
Now
Fall to Fall, in
Nadir of
Trust or Glad Knowing…!

Page 15

Incorporeal Tickling

Beauty’s Robe Whirls, an
Untouchable
Garment, that
Touches, touches, me.

Delia, Delia, in her Curlers, I can
Hold, but
Thank you,
Never Mind!

Yoicks! –

The Poet’s Heart Abrupt and
Carried, will
Never cease its Fires –
Lamenting Beauty Aids
Regrettable of
Nomer, Either…

Page 16

Will I? I Will!

Will I
Help you, Love!
I will
I Help you.
Love!

Page 17

Tellers-Of-How

I am Amused by the Vain
Airs of your
Importance.

I am Amazed by the
Pettiness of your
Positions.

And I am
Laughter – incited by your
Gestures of

Inherent Smugness.
Really, No, Now, Who are you to
Tell me my
Place?

Page 18

Episodnica

What Connection
Has a
Boy with Other Lives Far from
His Own,
As though
Lived by him??

This I Dreamed

All I Recall is a Bridge’s
Breaking
In the Orient, with a
Bar-Maid where, I Work, as
Consoling Aunt, saying,
“There, there,
It’s All True,”

Upon Awaking.
And the Chinese Boy Seen In
Last Episode,
Just
Moved Next Door??
This I Must Write
Ecstatic, to
Understand.

Page 20

Nervos, Relax, It’s Won!

Lie Still.
The Cause you Worshipped Out of
Mind,
Un-True, is Lost
From
Meaning.

Your Intelligence
Now
Streams Free from Tyrant
Bondage –
Heal your Dotty heart –

Awaken to
Rampantness
Care-Free, in your Position!
Exposed Venerealness Disappears
From
Compelling, why Do you
Question that
Grossness is Now Dumped from Hurting?

Page 21

In Darkest Hour

Come to me, in the Darkest Hour of
Night,
Rest your Shade in my Caress.

I will Heal, if I Can, the
Trouble
Within your Heart Distraught to Ruin.

Fear
No Evil Against your
Spirit
Kind.

Come to me… in the Darkest Hour… of
Night!

Page 21

Summary

Liberty is the license to follow the dictates of the country of the mind which, alone, deserves first loyalty. I see myself as the one who wrote what he had to say and did wonders for the crooked vision of his readers. I have followed the lead of Marianne Moore (1887-1972), Mr. Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s ACROBAT, Mr. E. E. Cummings (1894-1962), and later discovered Mr. James Dickey (1933–) had been doing the same thing, “Left what we felt at what we saw…” as Mr. Wallace Stevens* (1879-1955) has written.”

* From A Postcard from the Volcano. From the Vintage paperback, Poems by Wallace Stevens. Copyright 1947, 1954, by Wallace Stevens. Copyright 1957, 1959, by Ms. Elsie Stevens and Ms. Holly Stevens.

Page 22

Autobiography

Chamberlain, Mr. Kent Clair, Born January 22, 1943, Abilene, Dickinson County Seat, Ks. 67410.

Listed, International Who’s Who in Poetry (established 1958) 1972, Dictionary of International Biography 1976, Men of Achievement 1976, International Biographical Centre, Cambridge U., United Kingdom of G.B. & N.I.

Slated for Notable Americans, 1976-7. American Biographical Institute (Division of Historic Preservations). 205 West Martin Street, Post Office Box 226 Raleigh, Wake County, NC 27602.

Poet, Dishwater, Originator of Slant-Lined, Sight-Patterned Poetry. Night Dishwasher, Rogue Valley Country Club, 2660 East Hillcrest Road, Medford, under Mayor Jimmy Dunlevy (1965-1972) Returned, 1973-1976. Wrote Vatican asking “Jimmy” be named Patron Saint of those in jam. Graduate, Junior Accounting (Bookkeeping), Oregon College of Business, Earhart Street, Medford.

Page 23

Publications – Slant-Lined, Sight Patterned, Sometimey: Ship Bound for Where: Winter’s Bird: Ahoy, Undimmed Delight: From Depth of Feeling Part The First, Editor-in-chief of Intro., Founding Parnassian, Of Parnassus, Poets (Founded November 22, 1976), started to encourage the ways of humankindness and living on this assassinous, dark earth on the 13th anniversary of Pres. Kennedy’s death, that “Milton with eyes of the sea…” For $20, one Poem will appear in annual Poets of Parnasus Anthology. Only cultural organization in the whole world which admits that when you go over your butter-and-egg money, you will find you’ve joined an indeed non-profit organization.

Appeared – Scimitar $ Song, Circular Causation (Canada): Silk Screen: Poet (Union of India): Creative Urge: Elementary English: American Poet: Grafiti; Voices International; Beau-Cocoa; Major Poets: Modern Images; Hyacinths & Biscuits: Tejas (Friendship); Society Poetry Book: Modus Operandi; Saint Boobert’s Something; Ashland Daily Tidings; Medford Mail Tribune; Pilot Rock (Ashland, Or); All-Time Favorites, etc.

Page 24

First Serial Rights.
Redactors Granted FULL permission
(Reading) for Materials use for:

Blustering Buffet of Weighty Promise
Heart’s Madison
Bard of Bolts
Sinais Has Seen Da Gloria
Is There a Kingdom?
In Darkest Hour
To Blear of Youth I Sing
Yellowed – Brick Sombriety
For Nations’ Good
Agate Desert Meditation
Will I? I Will!
Tellers-Of-How
Episodnica
Nervos, Relax, It’s Won!

First Serial Rights
Editors Granted FULL Reprint PLUS
Performance Permission for Material’s use.

Incorporeal Tickling
No Roomers at my Inn!
To Blear of Youth, I Sing!

Page 25

All poetry in Rarely Published are Slant-lined, Sight-Patterned except the following:

No Roomer at my Inn: (Prose)
Will I? I Will! (Slant Lined Sight-Patterned Reversible)

Copyright 1977
Kent Clair Chamberlain

Reprints, except for review purposes, prohibited without written permission of the author. Address:

Ashland, Or. 97520

Printed at The Blue Willow Press
Edgerton, Wis. 53534,
United States of America

Back Cover

The Saint Boobert Presents Series #7

Prepared for Distribution in UAP Bundles
by
Rosanne Knight Pierce, Wellsboro, Pa. 16901

Other Financial Contributor:
Alice Dondiego… $10.00

Printed at
The Blue Willow Press
Edgerton, Wisconsin, 53534

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