Minneapolis Star-Tribune www.startribune.com. Star Tribune: Newspaper of the Twin Cities    December 15, 1991 Students don't whine when the masked man rhymes Author: Jim Parsons; Staff Writer Section: NEWS Page: 01B Index Terms: itzah C. Kret profile Estimated printed pages: 3 Article Text: When the kids from Barton Open School in Minneapolis first saw the phantom poet, he was just wearing his swim trunks. No purplish cape, no homemade surgical mask, no feathery hat and no Ragstock sportcoat with unmatching bow tie. The phantom had just climbed out of the pool at the Blaisdell YMCA and noticed that the kids looked bored while waiting for their turn to swim. So he started spouting his poems and limericks. They giggled and occasionally cackled. The "nose poem" was a cackler, a favorite that must be repeated every time the phantom drops in on M.J. Savaiano's fourth- and fifth-graders at Barton: There was a young man of woes Whose kids were stuck in his nose He said, I don't care As long as they share Whatever comes out when it blows. "Oh, that's gross - it's so great," Gabe Comerford said. "That's why we like him. He knows how kids think. Most adults wouldn't write stuff like that because . . . well . . . you know . . . they're grownups." "Yeah," said Julia Bottkol, "they write about trees and peaceful stuff. And sappy stuff . . ." "Like, `I think that I shall never see a poem as beautiful as a tree,' " said a theatrical Chris Borger, finishing his classmate's thought the way kids often do. "I like his mystery - the cape and the mask," added Jeff Mailhot. "Even when he takes it (the mask) off so we can hear him better we still don't know who he is." The phantom says his name is Itzah C. Kret. The kids catch on to that right away, but they don't pester him for his real name. It doesn't matter. He's funny. And, thanks to him, they've discovered the fun of writing limericks. Except for revealing his real name, the phantom doesn't mind talking about himself and his unusual avocation. Actually, he has two such avocations. He's also the phantom planter. Some of his clandestine plots of flowers have bloomed on vacant hillsides near the State Fairgrounds, at the Sculpture Garden in Minneapolis and on a tiny piece of land that is part of the concrete jungle at the Hennepin-Lyndale bottleneck. He got caught by a city worker putting out morning glories in the bottleneck, but the worker was just as bemused as the kids at Barton. The worker "was supposed to spray the area for dandelions," said the phantom, "but I had already planted most of it. He said, `My heart's with you,' and didn't spray." Actually, the phantom had a letter of authorization full of legal phraseology allowing him to plant the flowers. Of course, he wrote the letter. The phantom, as one might expect, is a flower child. He migrated to Minnesota from the East Coast 12 years ago to go to Carleton College, where he fell under the influence of a professor who talked about trying to solve the problems that plague mankind. The teacher, Paul Wellstone, became a U.S. senator, but the poet has eschewed politics. He was a labor organizer for awhile, a cabin boy on a research ship in Antarctica, a law student (he graduated, which pleased his lawyer parents, but has no interest in practicing law), a landscaper and, most recently, a day care worker. His poetic period erupted about five years ago. "I'd look at something like a lamp or a jar and just realize there was a poem inside it." For instance: There was a young woman of Har Who put her two boys in a jar She said, I'm not mean But our house is clean As long as they stay where they are. That one is autobiographical. "That's my brother and I in the jar and our mother's attempts - like most mothers - to keep us from messing up the house," he said. There's also a deeper, more psychological side to the phantom's work. "Children like my poems because they are written by a child. I'm 30, but in some ways I'm still 15. That's when my best friend committed suicide. There was so much pain from that (and three other tragic deaths of friends and relatives) that I have had a lot of trouble dealing with it. Maybe I didn't want to grow up and the poems were a way of doing that." The phantom has put 34 of his limericks - macabre and otherwise - into a small book with accompanying drawings. (It's called, "i sense nonsense" and can only be purchased by sending $8.43 to P.O. Box Poet, Jordan, Minn. 55352.)** M.J. Savaiano knows the phantom has made learning fun when she hears one of her quiet students, Reid Olsen, volunteer to recite his limerick: There was a guy named Paul Who was going to a masquerade ball He wanted to risk it So he went as a biscuit And a dog ate him up in the hall. ** Sorry but "i sense nonsense" is currently out of print.  If you'd like to be put on a waiting list for the next printing, send Itzah an email at itzahckret@itzahckret.com **** Caption:PHOTO Copyright (c) 1991, 2001 Star Tribune: Newspaper of the Twin Cities Record Number: 528617
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