Ode to Big Chungus

[Each stanza is written in a slightly bigger typeset, beginning at the smallest and ending very large] // Oh shit!! Here he comes, and dammit! He is sooo big! / The safety we cling to, it is not so big! / [I wish it were bigger!] :_ (  To live in a nation with a big / time belly! How big! Not big / enough! We sigh big / sighs! The belly grows oh so big. // Big Chungus: bigger / than all The Iliads, bigger / than all the Fates and Furies of Antiquity. His big / heart races like a furious fluffle across a big / field. Watching Big Chungus our hearts grow bunny-big / popping like clouds or roots pop, burrowing and growing big // and yes and beauteous, with cartoon big / eyes, we look upon You. Yes! Big, / Big Chungus. To love as Big / Chungus loves is to be big / in amorous desire. When did life shrink in the biggest / of ways? To hate is to be a small sort of big. // Not Chungus. Chungus knows big / smallness creates bigger smallness. Not such big / waves or novels or poems or big / ideas or big politicians with their big / names and retinue of big / ideas and their Big Whoopsies. Jump high! Big // WHOOPIEEE! Oh my big / dreams, oh my once-bigger / designs! They coulda been Chungus big / humongous Chungus sweet colossus Chungus big-- / you who most of all has spent life in bigness / and now here he comes now, see it, in his big // jalopy rolling out the bunny hole, BIG / like the Grand Canyon is BIG / Jellostone will erupt BIG / Kaboom! Whoa! So big! We were not a BIG / GENERATION though we dreamed. We dreamed BIG / instead of becoming. Even in love we stunk BIG
// stinks! But now here he comes, for real, Big / Chungus out of air to save me again, to reveal the big / theme. Themes bigger than TV, HBO, The New Yorker, bigger than big / poetry, burning big as a crunchwrap supreme™. In this big / age we lost the bigness. In our biggest selves? No! No! We had a big / deficit and big depression, a chunky little pandemic, and big / [here the text grows with each "big"] / poof! Big Chungus overseeing the last big gasp of our time. Big  / Chungus arrives: big,  BIG!!, [bolded] BIG / Chungus! Big inflate yourself! Big inflate our time!

Mike Good lives in Pittsburgh. Some of his recent poetry and book reviews can be found in or is forthcoming from Bennington Review, Colorado Review, Five Points, The Greensboro Review, Ploughshares, Prolit, Terrain.org, Waxwing, and elsewhere. Find more at mikegoodwrites.wordpress.com.

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