Dear Friends and Fans,

A Croatian music teacher named Frane Selak has been dubbed the world's luckiest man. His life story is like the plot of a Steven Segal movie: He claims to have survived a deadly train derailment, a car accident, a plane crash, a bus accident, an exploding fuel tank, being hit by a bus, and four failed marriages. Finally, in 2003, at age 74, Frane caught a break and won a million dollars in the Croatian lottery. (With his history, let's hope he doesn't carry cash.)

Selak's luck is no small feat. To put things in perspective, the odds of winning a state Lottery Jackpot are about 1 in 14 million. This means that the following events are more likely to happen to you than a lottery win:

1. Being Struck by Lightning (1 in 4.1 million)

2. Drowning in your Bathtub (1 in 800,000)

3. Being attacked by a shark (1 in 8 million)

4. A hole-in-one at golf (1 in 45,000)

5. Being bitten by another person (in NYC, 1600 of these incidents per year!)

Still, many people believe that winning the lottery is a real possibility. As a matter of fact, 21 percent of Americans (63 million people!) believe that a lottery win is the most likely way of accumulating wealth. This is like saying that a trip to your local Subway is the most likely way to meet Jared.

Last week, I bought a lottery ticket. Now I clearly know the odds. But I saw that machine, and I couldn't help thinking that $70 million would be pretty nice to have (it would certainly bring me one step closer to building my dream hotel, a 'bread and breakfast'- 'where every bed is made of bread!'). While my numbers didn't match this time, it did give me a thrill to dream.

I'll admit it's easy to scoff at Frane Selak's story, or to laugh at me, or to laugh at the 21 percent of Americans who believe that a lottery ticket is a better investment than the stock market (this week, they might be right…).

But just because the odds are great, we shouldn't rule out defying them. For example, the odds of being the lucky sperm in our batch who actually became a person- were about 1 in 300 million.

Eat your heart out, Frane Selak. I'm one lucky man.

Jakob

See a picture of Frane Here!

when the charge of
saving the world
seems too steep

I imagine us
some small town
endless flat street

telephone poles, either side
perfectly straight,
center at the horizon

and I'm walking home
at dusk
and you've cooked
chicken cacciatore

the news blares across the hall
about the growing ocean
and the shrinking ship

there is always another moment

there always was, anyhow

where I could find you
 balanced on a step ladder
in the bathroom

color puddled
 on your blouse
tip toes reaching
legs flexed
incandescent fingers

a roll of tape

masking the mirror
painting the room

and I'd have the world
to savor
in each of my hands
your breasts
your lips

and we could forget the news
while the paint dried

a hollow

apparition
appears on the metal doors

behind a
ghost semi trailer

lures in
tailgating drivers

hypnotizes them
then leads them

off the road
this could take place anywhere.

In death quiet
of the radio

I wake, swerving
rusty scar
sides of cars
caffeinate me

Please,
    let me make it
                               through this drive

picture inevitable
hawks and helicopters
circling
battle dance

the salvation army bunkers
alive with lamplight
they lay awake
studying
the hypocrites bible

Subtly gorgeous in any landscape
you would be the talk
of the town
if you were not called
Bougain Villea
you need a stage name.

Leaf by leaf
a tree becomes bare

not by the will of
one fall wind

but leaf by leaf
burst of air

by
burst of air

I defy me
defy
define
defy
me
defy
I

would like you
to think
to think
I defy me 

We are a pile of tides
we defy
professional diagnosis

these infinite bets hedged
wedge between us
in my car

we are
a different kind of two,

gray sage
can you count a leafless stalk

a leafless talk,
We are
a different kind of two,

words that say nothing
world that weighs nothing
I, only
155 pounds of this
nothing
you
refuse to declare your mass,
Oh,

I know it well
in my hands
in salty air
I know it underwater
I feel it alter
when you exhale.

we are, altogether,
a different kind of two.

We
the fortunate
thick with self importance
move fluidly
through
    centers of sidewalk
conglomerate
masses of molasses

Those
unlucky ones
condense
     beads of sweat

on benches cardboard signs
define them


J.Martin