Monday, March 19, 2018

March 19, 2018

A Briefer History of Time

It's now.
and then

It's now again.

by Alan Harland
in volume 6 issue 2

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Monday, March 12, 2018

March 12, 2018

How to Write
Erasure from section 5 of
How to Write a Thesis by Umberto Eco

Speak your chance
            to the hands of thousands

Most certainly
            nods do the work

A key less widely known
            is a minor hero

Your pig must first be solitary
            then genius

The weather hints at humility

You are not   Proust
You are not   e. e. cummings

are you a poet
are you crazy

by Karen Greenbaum-Maya
in volume 6 issue 2

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Monday, March 5, 2018

March 5, 2018


Queued to renew driver's license,
I spy some forms that plead donate
your organs, don't take them with you.
I consider how the mortician
will make chopped steak of them or burn
to dust to decorate some garden plot,
or scatter and make some mountain
or lake a couple pounds bigger.
I decide to get a leg up on immortality,
go green, join the recycle revolution,
implement piecemeal reincarnation.
I remember the old adage Charity begins
at home
, so hereby make a plan
and will—donate some parts
to folks I know.

My right foreleg to Pegleg Pruitt
who donated his to a jungle in Viet Nam.
Two toes go to cousin Tom who blasted
his off with a shotgun propped on his foot.
My right hand I hand to classmate Karl
who shot his off to escape the draft.
Uncle Nehi gets a nod—both knees,
he wore his out begging Aunt Nancy
for forgiveness. My intestines ship
to neighbor Nabob who I heard Dad say
one time lacked the guts to stand up
to his bossy wife. My heart I hope shall
enliven Aunt Hilda who some folks
claimed never had one. My chin I will
to Uncle Charlie whose own so weak
atop a long neck, he looked like
a terrapin without the stripes.
My teeth shall be titled to cousin Tim
and tell his daughter Tina she won't
have to see her dad gum it anymore.
My bountiful nose I offer to neighbor
Norville who insulted mine so he can
know how it feels to walk a mile
with another man's schnooze.

My eyes please send to Grandpa George,
who often said he didn't "see into it"
about Social Security rules.
My bad ear I bequeath to Brother
Barney who would love a bona fide
excuse to listen to his gabby
Gertrude only half the time.
And finally, I bestow my brain,
wrinkled and lightly used,
to my buddy Billy Bob
whose teacher once declared
he didn't have one.

by Wesley Sims
in volume 6 issue 2

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Monday, February 26, 2018

Feb 26, 2018


A Lady of many lovers' fame
Moaned, "Life will never be the same
Without Vladimir and Fred
Pierre, Pablo and Ted
And Chiang and Salim and Prem"

by Satish Pendharkar
in volume 6 issue 2

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Monday, February 19, 2018

Not My President's Day

Deplorable Times

'Tis a time of sheer madness, when
 all through the land
Blows a rumble and roar from a man,
  "I'm so grand."
He revels in ignorance, bigotry, "close every gate,"
   throws in misogyny, anything to bait
His mean mass of followers,
  all snug in their hate, with visions of America,
Their un-United States.
They dress in their anger and he
 in his rage,
I spring from my bed to put
 words on this page.
Away to my pc, I fly like a flash
it's Donald, it's Trump,
The Pres., with the bundle of cash,
  a miniature man with a mind
In the gutter, "Don't come down my chimney,"
 I clearly did utter.
His hair like an orange, his mouth like a guppy,
  a fake tweet comes out and even disgusts my sad puppy.
A blink of Trump's eye, a twist of his head
  confirms, yes, for sure, I have everything to dread.
Every word that he speaks signals danger ahead.
  I so want to run, hide under my bed,
When I hear him exclaim, (wish he'd drive out of sight),
 "Make America great again," I know, he's not right.
He wants to return to a time from before,
  when freedom and justice were not for the poor, and the others
All unwelcome at his White House door.

by Nancy Freedman Goldstein
in volume 6 issue 2

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