Monday, January 16, 2017

Getting Along



The Enemy of my Enemy

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
The friend of my enemy is still going to be my enemy.
The friend of the friend of my enemy is pretty much also my enemy.
The friend of the enemy of my enemy is my friend, I think.
The enemy of the enemy of my enemy gets us right back to that enemy thing.
The enemy of my enemy's enemy's enemy is all right by me.
The girlfriend of my enemy is Melinda.
Even the anemone of my enemy is my enemy.
The anemone of my friend is like a sea cucumber to me.
The enemy of my friend is my enemy, but I don't get so worked up about it.
The enemy of the enemy of my friend should not be confused with the enemy of my enemy, but they're both friends. One of them wears glasses and drives a Prius, but I can't remember which one.
The friend of my friend is okay I guess. They seem to spend a lot of time together. Frankly, I don't get what my friend sees in him. He spits when he talks, he laughs at his own jokes, and he has B.O.
The friend of my friend's friend is actually a pretty good guy. It turns out that we play in the same beer-league.
The friend of my enemy's enemy isn't exactly a friend, but I've talked to him like a million times without ever knowing his name.
The frond of my friend is not my fern, but he expects me to water it every Tuesday? Why didn't he ask his other so-called friend?
The arch-enemy of my team is the Heat of Miami
So, to my envy, my friend asks his other friend to the skybox of his company.
This, after I watched his dog over a long weekend.
So, if the enemy of my enemy is my friend
And the friend of my friend is my enemy
Then the enemy of the friend of my friend is my friend
And if the friend of my friend is the enemy of my enemy, then maybe my enemy is not such a bad guy.
My empathy for my enemy is the end of my enmity.
My antipathy for my enemy was really myopia.

by Stephen Starr
in volume 5 issue2

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Monday, January 9, 2017

Beginnings and Endings





I Remember, All Right
with a nod to Thomas Hood
I remember, I remember
The room where I was born,
With its one window where the light
Seeped in like smog each morn;
The varied sounds from other rooms;
The shrill ring of the clock;
The drunkard's lurch; the toilet's wheeze;
The landlord's weekly knock.

I remember, I remember
The bed and walls smeared brown;
The sink that let the spiders up
But not the water down;
The gas stove in the corner where,
While still it was in use,
Our mother cooked our meals for us
And later cooked her goose.

I remember, I remember
The day my brother swung.
The judge excused a harsher doom
Because he was so young;
The day my sister married,
Just before she was a mother,
Exchanging servitude for slavery
And one room for another.

I remember, I remember
That once I saw a tree.
Though mute and anchored to one spot,
Somehow it was more free
And eloquent than we who live
And die in boarding rooms.
Trees do not slave for other trees
Or pass their lives in tombs.


Love is Not Love
with a nod to William Shakespeare
Let marriage not be spoken of, that bind
For pleasure-centered lives; love is not love
Which calls for constancy or contracts signed
Or self-control or any act above
Bed level; oh no, it has a one-track mind
Which gloats on verbs like "thrust" and "writhe" and "thresh"
And gloats on naked fronts and bare behinds.
It wants its instant bliss, its pound of flesh.
Love's no one's dupe; it won't be taken in
By talk of future joys and shared tomorrows.
It knows its onions: temperance is sin;
Who doesn't seize the day will sup deep sorrow.
If you can show that this is wrong and prove it,
I'll write no more and eat my hat and love it.

by Patrick H. Sheerin
in volume 5 issue 1

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Monday, January 2, 2017

Blastoff



A Puzzle of the United States of America

one wonders if when
john glenn took off
to the moon left
a note in the milk
box for his kid
that said—"i'll
be back in
about a
week or
so, will
see you
then..."

by Joseph Reich
in volume 5 issue1

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Monday, December 26, 2016

Holy Night



The President's Prayer
with a nod to Jesus
Our Father in the White House,
hollow be your name.
Your drones come,
their will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily deaths,
and forgive us our collateral damage,
as we also have forgiven our bankers.
And lead us into preemptive strikes
that deliver us from evil.

by Frederick Foote
in volume 5 issue 2

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Monday, December 19, 2016

Is this the end?




Beer and Wine
with a nod to Robert Frost
Some say the night will end with beer,
Some say with wine.
From what I've tasted of good cheer
I hold with those who favor beer.
But if I were to be inclined,
To try and lose a bit of weight
To say that for a diet wine
Is also great
And would taste fine.

by Erika Lopez
in volume 5 issue 2

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