Song of the Mad Maga-Hatters Our thoughts go back to two thousand sixteen And the moment of bliss we shared When Lock-Her-Up Hillary left the scene, And The Donald into the White House went, And we roared to our hearts’ content. The Donald’s ended, But the enmity lingers on. Pence and the Don are gone,
Ding Dong! The Don has fled! Which old Don? The Trumpster Don! Ding Dong! The Trumpster Don has fled! Wake up, you sleepy-head! Rub your eyes, get out of bed! Wake up, the Trumpster Don has fled! He’s gone where the fraudsters go, Below, below, below! Yo-ho! Let’s open up And sing, and ring the
Visitation In the night’s hollow my father stands before me, mad at being dead.
A New Creed My family raised me as an Episcopalian, and growing up, I attended church with them from time to time. I also went to a prep school where attendance in Sunday Chapel was mandatory, except for Jewish and Roman Catholic students. Chapel services always included a recitation of the Apostles’ Creed, which sums
CONSCIENCE In the season of 1969-1970, I worked for a theater in Rochester, Michigan, located on the campus of Oakland University, and I thought it was a wonderful job. The theater paid a little better than Actors Equity union minimum, and it laid on a free trailer. I’d never lived in a trailer before. Compared
All Hallows Eve Snow buries the ground. The full moon hangs in the sky. A raven complains.
Halloween Snow buries the ground. The full moon hangs in the sky. A raven complains.
Grimalkin 1.Bump In The Night Every Saturday night, after finishing his shift at the basket factory, Sam Grant would head for the Bantam Bar and Grill and knock back whiskey until he was half in the bag. Then he’d drive back to the little house on Cavender Road, very carefully – he used to brag
Contoocook River moving fast. To the otter swimming down, It does not move.