Thursday, December 05, 2013

Becoming Ogden Nash

—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis

—Michael Cluff, Corona

On the blue
of the not-nearly-
paid-off car,
the granules
from the dirt trail
between the freeway
and the semi-tossed green agriculture,
solider dust marks where my fingerprints
have left lies
of what my life really is,
not frozen in one night
of wild maelstroms
winds that identify
that the environment
and government
may conspire
to trace my route
the end of which I do not even know.
The border is not all
that far away
and the silly fence
in the desert
can't really mark
where one's existence should conclude
and the other restart anew.


—Michael Cluff

Purvis withheld the water
until the moon
passed overhead
magpies declared a day
of silence

and felicity returned
but only in mottled form
piebald in the depression
which marked
true from ersatz
relish from turgidity
and soap from abrasives.


—Michael Cluff

Adapting to the adopted
tears that tear out of me
and a dew will then say
adieu and the piece
of peace I still have
will beat the beets
I have heard the herd
always and in all ways
easily vetoes through
a vote vetoed by
the dog the doge will buy
sense the time since
barks became barques.


—Michael Cluff

Tropical fish do not
connect Roger to reality,
the one he needs truly
the touch-and-go type
of washes and pulses.
Maybe the hamster
bought yesterday will
bound over the missing
and the flow of water
in a small bath will do
what he has not tasted
or felt since the girl
left his dreams
and migrated into nightmares.


—Michael Cluff

Behind closed doors
Mom et al. decided
Aunt Jane should be put away
hidden from visual consumption
no fault of her own
the evolution of things
just sometimes anticipated went
that needed way.

My sister Arabella
cried a bit
then took up with Barbie
and her beach house.
It was more apropos
according to the other relatives
especially Auntie Jo
and Mrs. Beasley.

Brick Wall
—Photo by Katy Brown

—Richard Hansen, Sacramento

Wanda and her man Ned,
who has sex with her a lot
but isn’t particularly smart,
used to really enjoy painting bikini tops
on blank walls
but that was a while back
they’ve moved on to
blackboards and dry-erase white boards
poster-sized pieces of paper mounted on easels
and finally they started painting
on canvas because
their skills at it
justified the expense
and Ned
petitioned Wanda for permission
to accompany her to the museum
because he too wanted to
paint bikini tops on the nude models
appearing in the paintings displayed to the public
but Wanda
didn’t want Ned to look at bare breasts
BUT!  Check this:
Ned has never had any intention of doing that and
you can go ahead and ask
all his friends at the filling station
they’ll tell you
he was only gonna start painting after Wanda
blotted out the nipples
So now
Wanda insists
whenever they're in public
discussing bare breasts
they refer to them as
“sideways Witch's Hats”
or in some cases just
“A Witch’s Hat” if
the nude model in the painting is
lying on her back
and perhaps in a side profile where
you can only see one,
and one must take precautions!
so the surrounding children and weak men
won't discover
the topic of their conversation
and start flipping out while
Wanda and Ned conduct the ongoing debate
as to whether Ned will ever
see the insides of a museum     

—Richard Hansen

Jake was baked and walking on the beach
with his mouth open looking up
when he woke up it was night
and he was by a crackling fire
he could only appreciate after numerous glasses of water
which got him thinking about what his dad always told him
about riding motorcycles in the old days
with no helmets, windshields or fairings


Today's LittleNip:

After heavy philosophical hash
take a break and read,
become Ogden Nash

—Michael Cluff



Under the Bridge
—Photo by Katy Brown
[We have a new photo album on Medusa's Facebook page;
Autumn On Lake Huron by Katy Brown. Check it out!]