Monday, August 15, 2016

Hot hot hot

The Woman in the Viagra Commercial

She is meant to make men feel like having sex:
a flower in her hair, idle in a tree house
in some distant, tropical paradise where men get
and keep an erection. When she speaks she barely

moves her face and afterwards she saunters
through an evening in which she is giddy and flirtatious,
lounging in a dress that clings. The woman in the commercial
is supposed to make men more comfortable talking

to their doctors about Viagra, though she also mentions
the possibility that the pill will cause them to lose
their hearing or vision, the chance that their erection
will never cease and they will end up in

an emergency room, their excitement clinically ridiculous.
Crickets sing in the Viagra commercial and the treehouse
is too beautiful for children though it reminds me
of the summers when I climbed into a leafy green

canopy and forgot the world below, summers
when I refused to descend though the night
deepened. The commercial makes me
sad for men and women, for the way women stand

around in short skirts, with blossoms in their hair,
the way men get old and find themselves
in need of a pill, or at least contemplating one,
in the thickening foliage of time, sad for the way

sex becomes another kind of medical emergency,
another reason to talk to your doctor.

by Faith Shearin
in volume 5 issue 1

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Monday, August 8, 2016

Buy more

A Prayer for the Market Economy
with a nod to King David
The Market Economy is my shepherd; I shall not want.

It maketh me to lie down in gated communities: it leadeth me beside the sterilized bottle waters.

He restoreth my portfolio: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness investment for the Market Economies sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of recession, I will fear no regulators: for thou art with me; thy lobbyist and thy cash, they comfort me.

Thou preparest a reserved table before me in the presence of socialist and communist: thou anointest my head with Texas crude oil; my cup runneth over with capital gains.

Surely goodness and mercy and ten-percent-or-better investment returns shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of capitalism forever.

by Frederick Foote
in volume 5 issue 1

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Monday, August 1, 2016

Summer Lovin'

Nursery Rhyme Personal Ads

Man seeks woman for outdoor fun–climbing hills, exploring waterways. First aid skills important. If you like to "tumble," contact TripwithJack.

Bi plate seeks fork, knife, or spoon for getaway adventure. If you love musical cats, humorous dogs, and gazing at incredible night sky events, don't diddle or dawdle. Contact WhataDish.

Two visually impaired mice seek third for bold but dangerous adventure. Thrills guaranteed, but risk of injury or even amputation. Contact 2Bmice.

Two men with culinary interests seek third for "tubbing" adventure. Lighting specialist preferred. Let's "rub and dub" together. Contact ButcherBaker.

Strong-minded woman seeks man to share love of gardening. If you love flowers, particularly silver bells, cockleshells, and little maids, contact MaryMary.

Equestrian man with avian interests seeks horsey fair lady who is into jewelry, especially rings and bells (on toes). Let's meet at Banbury Cross and make music together. Contact Roosterman.

Man seeks Rubenesque lady to share good times with good food. Some dietary restrictions, though. If you love sweets and rich food, contact JSprat.

Man seeks multiple partners for kissing fun and sharing sweet desserts. Prefer emotional types not afraid to show tears. Not into long-term relationships. Contact GeorgieP.

by Richard Drace
in volume 5 issue 1

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Monday, July 25, 2016

As crooked as a politician

A Narcissist's Prayer
with a nod to The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost
Our Father—
He and I are real close

who art in heaven—
I've got a free pass to get in

hallowed be thy Name—
along with my own

thy kingdom come—
mine's already here

thy will be done—
as shall my will

on earth—
I'm in my element

as it is in heaven—
I live in my own heaven

give us this day—
and yesterday and tomorrow

our daily bread—
I just love the color of "bread"

and forgive us—
Who? Me? For what?

our trespasses—
not me

as we forgive those—
that sounds more like it

who trespass against us—
they tried, they failed, they're pathetic

and lead us not into temptation—
this part was put in for everybody else

but deliver us from evil—
which means, deliver them from themselves

for thine is the kingdom—
Hey!? What about me?

and the power—
so I can do what I want

and the glory—
I was born for it

for ever and ever—
yes, yes, definitely me, me, me forever

this prayer was probably written for me...

by J. H. Johns
in volume 5 issue 1

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Monday, July 18, 2016


Senate Café Haiku

The lobbyist birds
Perch in the Senate café
Peck, then fly away.


The Senate café.
Pleaders sit with Senate staff.
Deals get done. Or not.


Cellphone power low.
No meetings since one o'clock.
Guess I don't exist.

by J. David Liss
in volume 5 issue 1

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