This fourth in a series of beau présents written for my favorite poets is meant as a tribute to probably my ultimate fave – the one and only Thomas Lux (in case you haven’t read my previous posts on the form, the beau présent is an usually brief poem composed to honor a person that consists of only words formed from the letters in their name):
A Beau Présent For Thomas Norman Lux
Thomas Lux’s a natural author,
a most moral man (not a trashman
nor a smut mouth, not rash nor lax,
not sour nor ho-hum), a smooth
orator, an ultrasmart annotator,
a solo astronaut, a tutor to lost tarantulas.
Thomas Lux has an autonomous soul,
uses humor to summon truth
& rout out rumor, shouts out
marathon rants to taunt & harass
amoral morons, louts, & trolls,
or to honor an oath to mutual human trust.
.
Thomas Lux’s as hot as arson,
as sonorous as a sonata on an alto sax.
Lux’s our mantra, our motto, our north,
our south, our moon, our sun, our stars,
our sultan, our tsar, our start, our last
hurrah, our utmost, our total – our all!
Published by Paul Szlosek
Paul Szlosek was born in Southbridge, Massachusetts, but currently resides in the nearby metropolis of Worcester. He was co-founder and host of the long-running Poet’s Parlor poetry reading in Southbridge and Sturbridge, as well as a past recipient of the Jacob Knight Award for Poetry. His poems have appeared in various local publications including the Worcester Review, Worcester Magazine, Sahara, Concrete Wolf, and Diner. He’s probably best known in the Worcester poetry community for his fanatical obsession with obscure poetry forms, and has invented his own including the ziggurat, the streetbeatina, and (most recently) the hodgenelle.
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Paul's Poetry Playground 
Paul, you have a unique gift writing to this form. I am constantly amazed by your skill with words! Well written!
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Thank you so much, Brad! That is so very kind of yoiu to say. I really do enjoy writing in this form. There is something about finding your vocabulary for the poem hidden in that person’s name that makes the process feel almost magical…☺
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Well done, Paul!
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Thank you so much, Eugenia!☺
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You’re welcome!
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I spent a week writing with Tom in Provincetown a few handfuls of years ago. It was the summer he was trying to quit smoking and he chewed on toothpicks as a substitute. The poets played football on the beach – it was funny and a bit sad. Imiss him.
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Thank you so much, Ken, for sharing this memory of Tom with me. I am so envious of those who knew him. A few months ago, I gave a reading and read this poem. Afterwards a man introduced himself to me and told me he was Tom’s roommate at Emerson when they were undergraduates there.
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