Derma Kaput - I think the 'acclaimed' is rarely acclaimed during the era in which it is truly subversive. But, of course, in the latter era of its broader celebration, this form of subversion (formally known as subversive) does provide a great deal of fun. Have you ever read Duchamp's "The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, Even"? Now, there's a Luxury blender - even his 'notes' for an artwork tend to make better poetry than most poetry. Incidentally, I love your almost self-referencing dactyls, and this whole thing makes for an interesting sonnet, despite the rain-stained meter. Also, a chemical analysis of its first line is revealing, but a dash of Sierpinski could make your fractals even more explosive. I'm seeing a terrific potential for the number '3'.
Leanne Hanson - Jim also has many of the tittles, titrates and has reawakened Titus Flavius Vespasianus since his brief reign made him the cheapest emperor on the necromancer's books. He would at this moment be besieging Jerusalem but frankly, he just can't be arsed.
What were we talking about again? Oh yes, your finger sonnet. S2 L2 is kind of imperfect (yes, that's like almost pregnant) with the DUM bypassing the stronger "fleshed" and landing on "out", which is on the line. No quick and easy fix springs to mind, however, and since swift resolution eludes me I shall wander past, not make eye contact and pretend to be admiring the architecture.
I am most deliciously amused by "storm-troping wankers" (the phrase rather than the objects themselves, obviously, although they're worth a smug chuckle to one's superior self). When stuck in a rutting rut, there is indeed a great temptation to go nuclear -- but of course, our words are our progeny and the poet craves no greater satisfaction (it's no good, I can't keep that up without choking).
So, you're Mum's still pissing you off then?
Laura doom - Jim:
Subversion -- yeh, just another manifestation of conformity -- anarchists demanding constitutional rights.
Duchamp; I'm vaguely unfamiliar with him, just the cube-fusion nude and the fountain of passed pleasures, though since your comment, I've been admiring his versatility, though obviously he's not in the same league as Abū Rayhān Muhammad ibn Ahmad Bīrūnī [only a polymath could entertain such a name] -- still, I'm now thinking inside the green box. Likewise Sierpinski, with whom I'm more intimately unfamiliar, having been obssessed with the functionality of triangles since first encountering the Kanizsa non-event horizon.
Your posts, i have to admit, regularly send me on disruptive tangential excursions, particularly the 'codswallop' series; distinctly entertaining stuff for an unpolished punymath like me, especially during those interminable knots of hiatus betwen life and death :>)
Leanne:
Stressed out and finely fumbled -- I rarely spawn a sonnet with perfect rhythm; I'm kind of subversive that way. I guess I compensate when reading to myself and if it doesn't sound utterly grotesque, it rests in the piece. I was actually [wondering if I could get away with saying 'actually'] more concerned about S2 L4, for a plethora of (3) reasons, which prompted meandering á la Hanson 
My mum constantly pisses me off. It's a reciprocal arrangement, a routine assimilation -- well, families are all about sharing, so that's one box ticked and buried, or did I just read that in one of Jim's necromantic tomes? Actually [though I think I got away with it], my mum's something of an angel, which naturally pisses me off, and she naturally forgives my inhumanity.
On a more or less serious note, this poetic reverie was generated by a persistent neck muscle injury, resulting in a variety of sublimated self-misdiagnoses, the primary protagonist being a tumour of a magnitude equating with that of a modestly small planet, or an impossibly large creme egg, neither of which infers that I am almost pregnant.
Leanne Hanson - Admittedly, I did stumble over S2 L4 on first read but second time through I just squished up the preference and the stress lands on IN-significant, which gives you a handy little pointer to the pun (actually).
One must learn to beware of malignant creme eggs, especially those filled with unpleasant little plastic dinosaurs or convenient choke-sized pieces of crap. I suggest avoiding doctors from now on.
Laura doom - A sensible, though redundant, warning -- doctors are fowl creatures; I avoid them like the plague, but then I avoid everyone, thus denying myself the satisfaction such vindictive discrimination might afford.
unpleasant little plastic dinosaurs or convenient choke-sized pieces of crap
Yeh, I guess that epitomises a substantial proportion of medical professionals. I'm surprisingly partial to the idea of having my lines squished as an alternative course of treatment :>)
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