J. Kates: Two Poems
I gave up cigarettes and sex and booze
and anything that might have got me hung.
I’ve grown too old to listen to the blues.
Allen Ginsberg: The Velocity of Money
I’m delighted by the velocity of money as it whistles through the windows of Lower East Side
Tom Engelhardt: The Apocalyptic President
“We’re gonna make trade fair again, and maybe win a Nobel Peace Prize while we’re at it… unless I have to nuke somebody.”
Jianqing Zheng: Dreaminations
[…] young woman with a basket in her hand walking down the road, her long skirt swaying like sunlight rustling with shriveled leaves. Is she taking lunch to her husband harvesting cotton or going berry picking in the woods?
Edison Jennings: One of Many Melodious Songs
An ivy educated American male,
bespoke suited but modest and sincere,
once seated and lighted to good effect
and confident of his look and manner
will, when gently prodded, confess
Abby Zimet: The Promised Land | When Fate Looks Upon You
OMG. We have landed in an inane, insane, bombastic Monty Python skit, slap-dash improvised by a sick vengeful child king churning through endless hissy fits.
Naomi Shihab Nye: 300 Goats
O lead them to a warm corner,
little ones toward bulkier bodies.
Lead them to the brush, which cuts the icy wind.
Another frigid night swooping down
Penelope Moffet: Peace March
Carry your light out into the shitstorm,
Joan Baez writes, and what a swirl of turds
it is.
Abby Zimet: Gobsmacking Fabulists ‘R Us
For the anniversary of the Jan. 6 riot that almost toppled democracy (more quickly than now), the hacks and crackpots in power have concocted a deranged revisionist history.
David Kirby: The Way I See It
I wonder if our bosses have any idea how much time we spend
thinking about them. My friend Silvia can’t sleep because
she can’t remember the name of her boss from twenty years ago.
Video: The Raging Grannies
These Grannies were made for raging
And that’s just what we’ll do
One of these days these Grannies
Are gonna help get rid of You
Chana Bloch: Happiness Research
Scientists are closing in on
the crowded quarter of the brain
where happiness lives. They like to think
it’s hunkered down in the left prefrontal cortex.
Adam Patric Miller: Passing Through The Intersection
It made no sense to see him. He wore the leather coat he used to wear, an 8-ball on the back. Maybe this happens when you don’t acknowledge death.
