Thursday, February 28, 2013


Dopes and Crabapples

Another automatic law
clicks in. Sequester.

Parties can't confer
to do it sensibly.

There seems to be
principles. Uh huh?

There’s also Statecraft.
Your trade. What you
were elected for. Not

the  applause of
ideological jerkoffs.

Only remedy, citizens
chosen by lot to govern.

“Oh God, we'll end up with
dopes and crabapples!”

Like, now is better?

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Wednesday, February 27, 2013


blogged for a political site but was more
a reporter from the untidy 1930s.

A fiscal conservative and social libertine,
he exhibited the latter role by getting
drunk nightly.

Always capped the evening off with a speech,
and regular people would linger for this moment.
Barflies remained anyway–to severely criticize it after.

One night he got nabbed by cellphone camera.
How a small jewelry shop owner got ruined by the IRS
immediately went almost viral on the net. Now it
had been one of his few peripatetic efforts, and he
finally collapsed against cases of Capt O’Bell’s
India Pale.

His followers in the storeroom chanced to block the photographer, 

who thus missed that crashing finish.

Owner Bart quipped “First time that shit moved!”

Phone call from Republican election guy in
a brace of noons.

"We want you to run for something. You’re all over
the TV!"

"Yeah? What?"

"Any fuckin thing."

"But I was drunk!"

"So? You got edge. At the present we have
bookkeepers and accountants who double-
majored in Boring and Stealing."

"I won't hear about them this way. They’re patriots!"

"Well give ‘em a flag. I’m here to  win elections!"


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Tuesday, February 26, 2013



So much of Dreyfus could be remedied, but not the Jew-part.
Zola could accuse all he wanted, but the vicious core in
everything resists forever.

Against his case still, how many later went to Vichy 

for the anti-Semite waters? Aiding the transport 
of undesirables as post-bath afterthought.

That was then. And Christian. Now, if Jewish, don’t 

find yourself fork-lifted into a furnace in the name of 
all that’s Decent.

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Monday, February 25, 2013



-House wants A, we want B, President wants C.

-Then compromise would be ABC.

-You’d think, but a brand new idea emerging.

-Isn’t that rare?

-Snow in Key West.

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Sunday, February 24, 2013

The Cable Box

Chullie tried the softer boot for the Cisco 89446a-U.
Volume -+ and Info all pressed at the same time.

Ryna felt it would straighten itself out, ever the lazy optimist,
but Chullie missed The Children The Children

Especially Lorna, who, though villainous to most, 
lodged in his heart.

Nothing doing, so he got Ryna on the cell. He wanted her 

to hear the hard boot, yanking the power plug and 
watching the Cisco run through its reconfiguration.

-I'm pulling!

–Let's hope. I know you haven't heard the latest:
actors on certain shows can vote viewers off.

-Old wives tale.

-Oh? Your vixeny Lorna is the prime suspect.

The box quit at V-434.

-Oh God! that's the vote-off code!

Squealing, she.

-You positive?

-My girlfriend Melody hasn't stopped crying.

Chullie began, at duplicitous Lorna's betrayal.
And Ryna’s incomprehensible glee:

-I have you all to myself now.

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Saturday, February 23, 2013


For Boston we rent
a car, skip Amtrak run.
Sit next to Drama Queen.

(Even still, residual trembling.)

When home I squeeze
the wife! Won’t let go.

She yells "I know you! What
the hell have you done?"

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Friday, February 22, 2013


Mike and Gladys-Ann Discuss Morality

-He was our little-boy leader. And one day,
stole the last cookie. When his parents confronted
him he put on his famous face of sheer guilt.

-And from that seed...?

-The Chevvy Gang. Drove aimlessly for hours
and then hung out in McDonald's parking lot.

-So? Teen Nothing. Who hasn't experienced it?
Where's the hook to this bland story?

-I don't know. How 'bout his present domicile?
Death Row. Quentin.

-That could be serious.

-Eventually. Anyway, drug killing.

-How marvelous of him to exemplify what
full-of-shit adults warned us of. How the
pettiest misstep early would lead to heinous

-Evil has steps, as does morality.

-When Marx heard morality in connection to
the obedient bourgeois we all are, he burst
out laughing.

-That's why he's Marx. Rest of us cope.

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Thursday, February 21, 2013


Government By Crisis

pinballs citizens
‘tween ringing bumpers.

Repubs relish the game
since it shows up Dems
as fumbling bumblers.

Dems as fey in painting GOP
as icily manipulative, gloatingly
full of themselves.

In our family, Uncle Rory flails with-
in the moment, always in revision.

Whereas Uncle Bud engorges like a tick
and is overdue for prison.

No trick who's loved.

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Wednesday, February 20, 2013


The True Believer

cannot stomach
contrary lummoxes.

Their Song-and-Dance
Proxies' inane patter

shakes loose toxins
to the general air,
causing dysentery.

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Tuesday, February 19, 2013



Libertarians should strike
its tyranny. The rest of us in
default submission to tiny

blocks on calendars
or insistent programs
from irritating computers.

Thus be in such and such place
at such and such time or suf-

fer manifold consequences for
violating the Coordinates God.

Why not say meet me under
the big busted clock,
or by the statue

of Whatisface, one?
And leave the hour blank?

Thus communicate the details
telepathically. How will that work?
Better than now? Something must.

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Monday, February 18, 2013

“Not So Super Mario”

The name hung on him
by the Irish woman,

also here to learn the new
series of switches.

He shunned her, a bitch,
pure and simple, who cut
all for even innocent takes.

During the Super Bowl frenzy
he wore a Baltimore jersey.

Only he and Group’s basic
“Drama Queen” did so.

From something this silly,
a bond formed and they,
despite warnings, dated.

She couldn’t fathom his
fascination for what she
called soccer. “Like ballet

with the Prima Ballerina
shrieking in pain over
a hangnail.” He explained

that what she further labeled
Academy Award! was similar

to her frequent protestations
for justice and equity.

Didn’t wash, so he gave up.
His attention seized,

anyway, by her performances
bordering on egregious. Such

disturbed others; he simply repeated
to her how lovely she was in everything. 

When it grows time to leave,
she floats following him, now

loses that idea quickly without
his really weighing in.

Back in Bolzano, how her emails flood!
Then hop, diminish, and stop.

Two old uncles visit. They have found
a bride for him. He thanks them, but de-
tails how such rituals have truly lost force

in such a cosmopolitan area. But
certainly they will meet!–out of
respect for their love and position.

The photo shows her to be pretty.
And reserved. That proves
the clincher finally.

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Sunday, February 17, 2013


Living Together in Housekeeping

-So, how is sin working out?

-Splendidly. We were on our way to a record...


-Something fell in the closet.

-Ah, the moment of mystery! What, mid accumulated junk,
could it be?

-Never found out, but we cleaned out the blasted thing
for three hours!

-Never knew that about her. Neat-freak of the highest order?

-Not a tenth of it. I mean there’s no category high enough
for her. Later she found speck of dust in a kitchen cup and...

-Let me guess. Six hours?

-Two solid days!

-So the back burners are immaculate, and sex has been placed upon them.

-Now she’s started on me, who naively thought the 

après la passion shower to be sexy?


-just about scrubbed my skin off.!

-How about between hanky and panky and housekeeping
and intensest personal hygiene? What do you lovebirds do?

-Why we rhett up!

-That’s Pennsylvania Dutch! You’re Catholics!

-She was a waitress in some tourist trap around Lancaster.
They had to learn all the cutesy-pootsey expressions.
Plus actually neatening up the dump in slack times.

-Man but you do smell of soap! I thought an Ivory Truck
had exploded nearby.

-Never mind all that! There’s an impasse to deal with,
a puzzle, a conundrum, a...

-Call it what you will. When are you two announcing
The Banns?

-Like, I wanna talk to some priest and get scalded
for fornication?

-Yes, but don’t forget extra credit for cleanliness.
Bible big on that! Anyway, carry missal in your pocket.
Impress the horny old fart.

-You’re of no use!-–pouring water on a drowning man.

-That’s Holy Water. But let’s just be a little modern and daring this time--unlike our stodgy friends. The whole wedding party dressed as pirates?

-Yeah? What’ll she be?

-Why Black Bart of course!

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Saturday, February 16, 2013


Tour de France

Jeanne, in her final fit, leaves with Roger. Maurice gets 

a village girl for the baby.

Coincident with this arrangement in the close farmhouse, 

one thing eventually leads etc.

Ceases upon Jeanne’s return after two months, her ardor 

for lover now ice.

Pauline back to her parents, therefore. Where one bright

afternoon she observes Roger’s leg and waves.

He will lean his bicycle against a dappling sycamore 

for a chat light as air.

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Friday, February 15, 2013


What’s the Use of Television?

You produce the same derision
heading to ballgame or date or rally

all powdered up. We can’t all be on all
the time. Skip incipient fame for spiked

Mulligan Stew with your raucous buddies
and their wildly irrepressible whores.

Seek no more to be Lana
Turnered in the drugstore.

If we all get famous
nobody is.

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Thursday, February 14, 2013


Raw Comedians As Political Consultants

-Rubio not ready for prime time.

-Who cares? It’s early.

-Somebody said he looks like the future and
talks like your grandfather.

-Those are our core ideas. Throw them out  you got freakin
peasant Democrat. Besides he can say them in Spanish.

-Another jambony says he should beCOME a Democrat.
For electability.

-Hey! Let them get their own spick! And his handlers falling
down already. He voted wrong on Violence Against
Women Act. You get one broad never just 

get one.

-Anyway, what’s coming up the pike someday? 

Both candidates talking Cam-bo-did-ee-on?

-Cam-bo-did-ee-on, huh? Your depth of ignorance inspires.

-Thank you. It’s my American Birthright.

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Wednesday, February 13, 2013


The Republican and the Reporter

-Got us a new spick and he’ll be President.

-How do you feel about that?

-Great! And the more the merrier. Throw in Chinamen and Jews and Afro-Bafros while we’re at it.

-Is it okay I label you ignorant in my article?

-Be proud!

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Tuesday, February 12, 2013



“Look! We got the old farts thoroughly confused. 

This plan and that, this or that deductible. 
Now we’re following through with a thumping 
brochure to every one of them! Very colorful, 
plus newspapers and TV, and, of course, 
a continuous flow of crap on the internet.

We’re gonna win most of these dithering 

prospects, but it’s debatable whether all 
the tons of advertising helps or hurts us.

It’s the guys and girls we got to close the deal

gives us the edge. Many have been ministers 
or priests or rabbis, so they know how to appear 
gentle and thoughtful while shoveling the shit.”

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Monday, February 11, 2013


To Your Painstaking Explication

he spits “Freedom!”
Meaning his. Yours

in the abstract,
or absent, or

preferably, extracted
by him.

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Sunday, February 10, 2013

A History of Facial Listening

After marrying the most intellectual woman in
Ryer’s Falls, day-dreamy Hillis got lectured.
He frequently lost the thread

but survived with judicious nods and uh huhs.
Mostly. When she demanded more, he swung
the hammer but it floated by the nail.

Many years later, Plumber Okay Marris told
live-in, Mizbeth, “Sit on the toilet in that
new bathroom when they’re out somewheres

and the pipes still speak in sentences.”
She answered the way she did to everything.
“And the farmer took another load away!”

Whatever resonances Ruthie imparted
to inanimate appliances dissipated af-
ter her shocking heart attack and death.

Eventually, Hillis stayed at the Holiday Inn, let-
ling Bill Radis of Radis Reality unload the place.

A bit of haunting had indeed occurred
as Hillis remembered her final words:

“You haven’t listened to a thing
in all these years.”

“I drifted through college,” he told her,
“You educated me.”

Now in Boca, he doesn’t have to say much:
Big Noises from Winnetka tromboning daily.

But he’s missed one morning three
years later as regular, bemused

witness at the association’s bocci game.
Player Lou Onofrio pounds on his door,
and then gets Manager Ricardo to open it.

EM tech P. Wells will tell apprentice
Jilly, “You see that face? Its

vacancy? Second case I’ve been at.
He vagued himself to death!”

Jilly will laugh “That’s not a diagnosis
according to my textbook, though

the boyfriend’s heading there with
whatever wrong drug of the week.

He’s stony-eyed and vaguely discontented--

like our victim. (Her father continuously quo-

ted old songs.) So...what the hell! Rest
in Peace, Mr Hillis Whatsyourface!”

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Saturday, February 09, 2013

Out of Town Buyer

had to knock it off
with the women.
Doc said.

Prostate Cancer.
Advanced stage.

No skin from my teeth.
Sick of getting these
jombonies “dates.”

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Friday, February 08, 2013

Rascal Ranch

“These two again!” From
the one detective. Other
doesn’t look surprised.

“Primitive-ass setup,” he shrugs.
“Last time was all class.” In the car
the first turns small-talky, but

Herk and Evey aren’t biting.
Then he calls her Crystal and
him Meth. Cop wit.

Children mentioned. Gabby spills
“They’re with Grandparents.” So

clear to Herk who ratted them out,
her folks, the “Citizens.” She remains
clueless, sitting like a toy.

His people know better, having been
inside. A good bit back, of course.
Presently they ride horses

in parades. Beautifully embroidered
shirts announcing Rascal Ranch.

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Thursday, February 07, 2013

The Song For Making Water

-The old men ask the gods for a stronger stream.

-WHILE you’re...? Strange.

-Not to us. We chant or sing though everything.

-So if I walk through the village, I’ll hear...?

-Constantly. In the morning the young men.

-Bragging of course.

-How they destroy rocks with their peeing!

-Makes me laugh, who has to keep up potency in
all areas. With a young wife.

-Our elders would never allow such a marriage.
The young should be like an explosion!
And the old, together in gentle farting.

-Not yet.

-You say, but the gods decide!
Life is heaven-sent.
Beg them to relent
if you dearly wish,

But gods have made the dish

-Not much for you to know then. The gods handle everything.

-Why we‘re so happy!

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Wednesday, February 06, 2013


The Republicans Have a Plan 

in ever further deference
to their grasping Masters,
to trim your teeny slice of pie. 

Thank the Economic God
that’s probably enough. 

Nefarious schemes abound in
numerous covens, but odds

remain rosy for many
are culled but few are hosen
this completely.

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Tuesday, February 05, 2013


Conservative Beset By Usual 

-All this shit about poverty! This humongous government program and that one bleeding decent people dry! I say let the churches handle it.

-Where can the atheists go?

-Hey! Them I say fuck altogether!

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Monday, February 04, 2013


There Will Always Be 

“No sex please! We’re British.”
Contrast with wartime by
infamous walls: Give it a go,
Yank! Your mum won’t know. 

Then there’s The English Disease.
With theme and variation quite
enveloping politest society 

through top layers. Not thought so
pathological in this day, though 

very much the stuff
of Historical Empire
after the Romans.


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Sunday, February 03, 2013


Damaged Goods Party 

Not a dry eye in the condo when Exhibit A finished.
She had indeed been crushed, and now most of the
men wanted to marry her. 

Exhibit B tried for the same piano keys, but brusquely,
hit or miss. We concluded her present tragic life had
taken on the grim and spastic melody it deserved. 

Exhibit C was all mouth and revolt, excoriating anything
in trousers. We told her she missed the revolution by
taking so long to fix her face.  

Exhibit D opted out for reasons of her own. I thereupon asked her to be a good little girl and fetch me a gin and tonic.

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Saturday, February 02, 2013


The Village Lovie-Dovies

Nick couldn’t look. They were giggling and
throwing snowballs at each other, then
collapsing into a snowbank and wrestling.

He was busy at the cash register with
old Reverend Rack, who held King
Charles Spaniel, Schopenhauer, under
his parka.

“Those two have been at it for years!”--
while bagging the minster’s Danish,
and the Quaker Oatmeal for his wife.

Rack sipped the steaming coffee, breaking,
though, to pronounce “That kind of
silly stuff can’t last much longer.”

Didn’t. Couple hit a tree while sledding down
icy Merchant’s Hill that dark afternoon.

Newly-minted pastor, Lucy, handled the funeral
as “an example of  undying love for us all.” 

Rack drove to Florida that morning with Schopenhauer.  Dorothy refused to go.















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Friday, February 01, 2013


Can’t-Win Hand 

To avoid a roiling primary
war, the once-stylish Re-

publican bends so
far down to kiss
Tea Party ass that he

defines despicable
even moreso to them.


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