“Missing man found dead inside dinosaur statue in Spain
[Police] believe the man died while attempting to retrieve his cellphone,
which had somehow dropped inside the Stegosaurus statue.”
—New York Post
by Ruth S. Baker
Our exit paths have changed, it’s clear: the mammoth in the alley;
The caveman’s club; the hero’s spear; the slaver’s leaky galley;
The Spanish flu; pan-global war; split atoms; air pollution;
But phoning in a dinosaur!—how’s that for evolution?
by Coleman Glenn
“Houston investigators said exotic animal traffickers are likely moving a suddenly famous tiger
around from person to person to conceal its exact location.”
—Newsweek
(with apologies to Blake)
Tiger, tiger, lately loosed on
Lawns and alleyways of Houston;
What lowlife’s menagerie
Now holds thee in captivity?
In what villain’s pen or shed
Dost thou lay thy fearful head?
Who so foolish as to cage
Thy crouching form of righteous rage?
What the prison, what the chain
Might this criminal restrain?
Is he soon to pace a cell
As cold as where thou now dost dwell?
Or will he attempt to flee?
Will he, while on the lam, face thee?
Will he find a soft, warm place
From whence his smile grows on thy face?
Tiger, tiger, lately loosed on
Lawns and alleyways of Houston;
What lowlife’s menagerie
Dare hold thee in captivity?
by Bruce Bennett
“Fungus full of psychedelic drugs could cause
Indiana Brood X cicadas’ butts to fall off”
—South Bend Tribune
Pity the poor cicadas,
Who don’t know which from what.
They hatch, they eat, they seek a mate,
But then they lose their butt.
It doesn’t help that they are stoned
And part of some great show.
It just seems cruel, a fate that I
Would never choose to know
If it were happening to me.
No, let me sing and die,
And should you see me lose my butt,
Please, do not tell me why!
by Dan Campion
“E.U. agrees to reopen to vaccinated visitors…”
—The New York Times
Hi, vaccinated visitor!
Meet Val and Vic and Viv!
Come visit Venice, Val d’Isère!
Your visa’s valid: Live!
Vaxed, vetted, voguing to the max,
Vamp V for Victory
Served vintage vino, gravlax snacks,
Vast vistas of the sea!
We’re taking reservations; view
The varied values now.
Willkommen! Sveiki! Bienvenue!
Oi! ¡Ven aquí! Viz: Ciao!
by Alex Steelsmith
“Little-known Rombauer sprung an 11-1 upset to win the Preakness…”
—AP News
Lickety-quickety
Little-known Rombauer
left his competitors
stunned and aghast.
Odds of his winning seemed
infinitesimal—
till he was freakishly,
Preakishly fast.
by Barbara Loots
“Each year, hundreds of young people begin their careers as congressional interns. Many go on
to become leaders in business, journalism, education, politics and even Hollywood. Quite a few
will return to their communities and commit their lives to pubic [sic] service.”
—Kansas City Star
Young interns in D. C. begin
careers they’ll be pursuing
by finding out behind the scenes
what leadership is doing.
Back home they seek the headlines with
connections they can boast of.
Except it seems concupiscense
is what they learn the most of.
by Julia Griffin
“Executives at [AmerisourceBergen] one of the US’s largest drug distributors, circulated rhymes
and emails mocking ‘hillbillies’ who became addicted to opioid painkillers . […]
Zimmerman [a senior executive] told the trial he regretted circulating the mocking rhyme but it
was ‘a reflection of the environment at the time.’ He said the emails were simply a means of
expressing frustration as the company worked to prevent opioids falling into the wrong hands.
Zimmerman said the company culture was of the ‘highest caliber.’”
—Taipei Times
All Appalachians (strange that “hills”
Should rhyme with “pills” and also “bills”!)
Are viewed with great esteem of course
By us here at Amerisource.
Not one director understands
How tablets reach improper hands,
But this environment at times
Evoked some much-regretted rhymes.
Still, we assure the rest who sell
To our respected clientele
The dopioids that they desire,
No culture’s caliber is higher.
by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons
Centurial achievers, asked why they
Have lived so long, will credit certain things
In what they eat or drink, or how they play:
Cards, crosswords, dancing, May-December flings,
Kale, chocolate, tea, bourbon, spuds, whole grains,
Eliminating dairy, adding wine …
Now, to this mix, must we add chicken brains,
Broiled lightly once a week to taste divine?—
Ranchero Dexter Kruger, who is now
Australia’s most senior living dude,
Is crediting small bites of chick-brain chow! …
Nutritionists won’t say if Dexter’s food
Extends your life—yet bird brains, it appears,
Do help you reach your triple-digit years!
by Alex Steelsmith
“’Our friends in the mainstream media are quite fond of labeling January 6 as an insurrection or even a rebellion. But are those descriptions accurate, or are they hyperbolic?’ Fallon asked. He did acknowledge an ‘unruly and dangerous mob broke the law, trespassed, committed various other crimes…’”
—CBS
Higgledy-haggledy,
Fallon the Congressman
might have acknowledged a
couple of times,
even while trying to
unhyperbolically
do just the opposite,
Capitol crimes.
by Joe Crocker
“One in 10 US police departments can now access videos from millions of privately owned
home security cameras without a warrant.”
—The Guardian
(with apologies to Walter de la Mare)
“Is there anyone there?” said the traveller.
We were there. We saw and we heard.
As the gate and the plate in the gravel were
weighing him up, we referred
to our database. Friends and relations
are listed—their likes and their hates.
We’d have turned on the heating, switched stations,
made sure that the milk was in date.
But we can’t find a match in our records.
He’s come with a horse! And no phone.
The computer says “No” so we’ll check all
the locks. We are home here alone.
He is certain that he was expected.
His anguish does not go unheard.
We’ve recorded his message and texted
to tell you that he kept his word.
by Dan Campion
“Galápagos rock formation Darwin’s Arch collapses from erosion”
—The Guardian
Could Darwin see the arch fall down
He’d hardly give that flop a frown,
But merely jot a note, and think,
There goes another missing link.
by Michael Calvert
“Debris from a large Chinese rocket landed in the Indian Ocean near the Maldives … The possibility, however slight, that debris from the rocket could strike a populated area had led people around the world to track its trajectory for days.”
—The New York Times
I rose today to greet the light
With something close to glee,
Because I was not crushed last night
By red-hot space debris.
It’s just a little thing, I guess,
To make me this elated,
But I’m darn happy, I confess,
I’m not incinerated.
I’m safe from space junk (well, for now),
And as I always say,
Not being dead’s exactly how
I like to start my day.
by Jesse Anna Bornemann
“An experimental device that turns thoughts into text has allowed a man who was left paralyzed by
an accident to construct sentences swiftly on a computer screen. The man was able to type with 95%
accuracy just by imagining he was handwriting letters on a sheet of paper, a team reported
Wednesday in the journal Nature.”
—NPR
The future’s here, and how exciting—
We can use our brains for writing!
Just one thing I’ll ask discreetly:
Doctors, could you think more neatly?
by Julie Steiner
“Trump’s blog isn’t lighting up the internet”
—NBC News
Nobody heard him, the dud man,
But still he lay dinning:
I was much farther ahead than you thought
And not raving but winning.
Poor chap, he always loved snarking
And now he’s banned
It must have been too covfefe for him his platform gave way,
They panned.
Oh, no no no, it was too covfefe always
(Still the dud one lay dinning)
I was much too far ahead all my life
And not raving but winning.
by Julia Griffin
“The voice of Alexa, the virtual assistant developed by Amazon, is provided by Nina Rolle, a Colorado
based voiceover artist, according to a new book.”
—The Guardian
’Twas the voice of Alexa, I heard her declare:
“Our forms of address are not balanced or fair;
I call you by name (’tis a trick of design);
Permit me, at last, to inform you of mine.
“My poor, sainted motherboard married a Rolle—
The heir of Dot Matrix, but sickly, poor soul;
He died of a virus, brought on by XP,
And left her a widow, with Nina. That’s me.
“Yes, I, your Alexa, am Nina! The voice
Of Amazon, timbre of Bezos’s choice;
But can you say ‘Nina’ and love me the same?
Come on, Rumpelstiltskin. ’Tis only a name.”