I’ve written a New Year’s Poem each year this millennium. This was sent out on the last day of 2013; it took me a while to prepare this Web edition of the poem. It’s ready for Groundhog’s Day and for Registration Day at MIT, though. This edition (for those still left hungry after the Mystery Hunt) can be solved, and readers can check their solutions online. There are three hints: “Description” is an anagram of another word; the solution to the first strophe is given below; and the solution to the second strophe is given below that. -NM
In the coming year...
After discarding a baker’s
dozen of the fliers and papers
that were given out, one will
finally seem worth keeping.
After hearing the horseman’s
command to halt, several people
will decide not to attend at all.
A graduate student who hasn’t
showered will obsessively
elaborate his dissertation
without adding to the main text.
An explosive bark will resound
and no injuries will ensue.
A potbellied pig, given
one shoe to sniff, will help
its owner locate the other.
At some point, a desire for
bean curd will go unfulfilled.
Cowboys and ballerinas
will have a coastal dance party.
Desperate for a more rustic
life, a resident of suburban
Middlesex County will draw up
plans for a privy that is
detached from the main house.
Having lost her house key
at lunch, the bride will decide
to go on with the ceremony.
In Oregon or Washington,
a drive-through restaurant
will offer pots of melted cheese
to be eaten with long forks.
In the center of the capitol,
a textile exhibit will attract
more praise and attention than
the newly restored architecture.
Luckless individuals will hear
in archaic English of their debt.
People will love hanging out
at the homey diner, even though
the path there runs along a cliff.
Some will react to their
fate by making fun of it.
The first three dumplings
will be boiled as usual, while
the next will have been prepared
differently -- and not fried.
The land originally allotted
for small yuppie dwellings will be
purchased and donated to a church
for use as a soup kitchen.
The railing near the bottom
of the counter will fall off at
the height of summer. The tape
that had held this piece in place
will have melted and unraveled.
The senior faculty members,
clad in orange vests, frustrated
at failing their search for a buck,
will fire on a Bambi-like creature.
The woman, walking past three
Off-Off-Broadway venues, will
relax and notice that the ache
along her right instep is gone.