(“pinched” from Stine Writing at
* * *
—Poetry by Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Caschwa, and Joe Nolan
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
Caschwa, and Joe Nolan
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
WHATEVER HE CAN PINCH
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
The man has no heart,
but his pockets are deep,
filled with the booty
he’ll trade for cold cash.
He’ll steal lines from the roads
and the legs from a fish.
He’ll steal the red lights
that warn trains coming by.
He’ll enter your bedroom
and steal all your dreams.
If you think it’s precious,
you’ll find that it’s missing.
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY
The man has no heart,
but his pockets are deep,
filled with the booty
he’ll trade for cold cash.
He’ll steal lines from the roads
and the legs from a fish.
He’ll steal the red lights
that warn trains coming by.
He’ll enter your bedroom
and steal all your dreams.
If you think it’s precious,
you’ll find that it’s missing.
Who stole the asphalt?
HIGHWAY ROBBERY: POTHOLES
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales
It isn’t snooker, billiards—
(lore ‘Watch pot red’ said BBC,
when TV screens were black and white)—
so potting sheds and dibbing holes
are far removed from our concern.
It’s gutter politics writ large,
frustration driving local votes,
so steering, veering, short-range view,
once smooth become obstacle course,
suspended dies, unbalanced wheels.
Though wheelies for some bikers sum
their status symbol, skills displayed,
but others tire of antics spun,
tread sparingly where others burn,
then plumb sole crater, landing craft.
The cyclist thrown, launched over bars,
as if a drunk, wheel buckled slump.
The saloon too knows rubber bounce,
and fallen arches, axle bump,
the spring of winter back to fall.
At premium, insurance call,
demands are met, derided all,
so highway robbery installed
unmasked, those holes, lost tarmac, pits—
for whether cause of fissure frost.
Bellwether, streets left in decline;
who takes the tar laid on the road
(where are tar babies brewed for Brer?),
or steals my wheels, suspension wear,
where slow clip kerb as signs deter,
still stand, deliver, parking fine?
The bird is the word . . .
WORD PLAY
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
Tchaikovsky 1812 Overture: Russian percussion
Angel Food Cake: heavenly leavened
; = truck stop
Condominiums have lots of rules, but no condom minimums
Have you ever been in the military?
Yes, I was in the Apple Corps, but they threw me out.
Headquarters = pay toilet
A classy hotel will rent you a nice
rheumatoid arthritis that comes with
top class rheumatoid service
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
Tchaikovsky 1812 Overture: Russian percussion
Angel Food Cake: heavenly leavened
; = truck stop
Condominiums have lots of rules, but no condom minimums
Have you ever been in the military?
Yes, I was in the Apple Corps, but they threw me out.
Headquarters = pay toilet
A classy hotel will rent you a nice
rheumatoid arthritis that comes with
top class rheumatoid service
Chica
SENIOR PARTNER
—Caschwa
(After a recent MK Seed of the Week,
"Brandishing Her Sword")
at first glance, and each view after that, she
looks exactly like a diminutive Chihuahua
but having her as part of the household reveals
that she can exert forces far beyond that perception
her diet becomes the focus of our grocery shopping
trips, she has her own doctor, her own dishes, and
shares our seating and bedding at will
documents show that she died a year or so ago,
at first glance, and each view after that, she
looks exactly like a diminutive Chihuahua
but having her as part of the household reveals
that she can exert forces far beyond that perception
her diet becomes the focus of our grocery shopping
trips, she has her own doctor, her own dishes, and
shares our seating and bedding at will
documents show that she died a year or so ago,
though
she is still brandishing her sword, right here, right
she is still brandishing her sword, right here, right
now,
insisting that the author puts this in the present
insisting that the author puts this in the present
tense
OUR NATIONAL DISGRACE
—Caschwa
(sung to the tune of our National Anthem)
Oh, see con men lie
From the dawn to the night
Though their arguments fail
Their dishonesty teeming,
All their logic subpar
What a hideous sight,
O’er the failures they botched
With their eyes wide and beaming
Deep pockets but no care
Prevaricate with flair.
Truth hidden from light
Like it was not still there.
O, say do those
Rampant falsities yet rave
While the home of the free
Suffers lies that they gave?
—Caschwa
(sung to the tune of our National Anthem)
Oh, see con men lie
From the dawn to the night
Though their arguments fail
Their dishonesty teeming,
All their logic subpar
What a hideous sight,
O’er the failures they botched
With their eyes wide and beaming
Deep pockets but no care
Prevaricate with flair.
Truth hidden from light
Like it was not still there.
O, say do those
Rampant falsities yet rave
While the home of the free
Suffers lies that they gave?
OUT OF CONTROL
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Out of control
He rolled
Downhill,
As out of control
Always will,
After lost friends,
Jack and Jill,
Jack, who broke his crown and
Jill, who went stumbling, after.
It took six years
To give up smoking
After that first one in years,
Just a drag
To get a buzz,
To share
With her
Because
They were
In love.
After six years,
Lesson learned,
When laughing
Led to coughing.
All the problems
Had returned-—
Problems that come
From smoking
And Jill
Was nowhere around.
—Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
Out of control
He rolled
Downhill,
As out of control
Always will,
After lost friends,
Jack and Jill,
Jack, who broke his crown and
Jill, who went stumbling, after.
It took six years
To give up smoking
After that first one in years,
Just a drag
To get a buzz,
To share
With her
Because
They were
In love.
After six years,
Lesson learned,
When laughing
Led to coughing.
All the problems
Had returned-—
Problems that come
From smoking
And Jill
Was nowhere around.
REMEMBERING JIMMY CARTER
—Joe Nolan
—Joe Nolan
I remember Jimmy Carter
When I’m driving 55
In a little hatchback
With a one-point-five--
Maybe a Tercel?
Or maybe a Subaru Justy?
With just a one-point-two
That lumbered up to
Highway speed
In almost only twenty.
No one could go fast.
You didn’t need
A muscle car.
You had to watch
Your speedometer
And for slow-moving vehicles
Trying to merge in.
They put tariffs on the Japanese
Who sold on their own label,
But let Mitsubishi
Sneak its Colts in
Underneath the wire
To save bankrupt Chrysler.
I remember Jimmy Carter
When I look back and groan
Like we couldn’t pump
Our own damn oil
Out of our own ground.
BEFORE INTIMACY
—Joe Nolan
I think I know you
Over there,
But if I let you
Into my arms,
Into my heart,
How then
Would I know thee?
Which whisper
Breathed into my ear
Would I hear
And would I
Believe you?
Which hunger
Would I need to feed
And would I
Really need you,
Over time?
To how many
Has your heart
Been gift?
How much, returned?
Is it just a matter
Of lessons learned
Or scars
From being spurned?
Would we
Into separate ways
Dissolve
Over time, like
Water drawn from wine?
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Smoking kills. If you’re killed, you’ve lost a very important part of your life.
—Brooke Shields
_____________________
—Medusa, thanking today’s contributors for their fine offerings!
Our Seed of the Week was “Highway Robbery”. Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.
—Joe Nolan
I think I know you
Over there,
But if I let you
Into my arms,
Into my heart,
How then
Would I know thee?
Which whisper
Breathed into my ear
Would I hear
And would I
Believe you?
Which hunger
Would I need to feed
And would I
Really need you,
Over time?
To how many
Has your heart
Been gift?
How much, returned?
Is it just a matter
Of lessons learned
Or scars
From being spurned?
Would we
Into separate ways
Dissolve
Over time, like
Water drawn from wine?
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Smoking kills. If you’re killed, you’ve lost a very important part of your life.
—Brooke Shields
_____________________
—Medusa, thanking today’s contributors for their fine offerings!
Our Seed of the Week was “Highway Robbery”. Be sure to check each Tuesday for the latest Seed of the Week.
A reminder that
Poetic License takes place
in Placerville this morning;
and it’s Youth Open Mic Night at
Sacramento Poetry Center, 7:30pm.
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