by Ruth S. Baker

“GOP lawmakers wore pearls while gun violence victims testified”
—The Washington Post

Look at our lawmakers, dressed up so fine!
Guns before sanity; pearls before swine.

by Julia Griffin

“The tiny Jacquemus Mini Le Chiquito bag is smaller than a credit card and can be held in the palm of your hand”
—The Guardian

The Jacquemus Mini Le Chiquito
Can hold a folded leaf of chard
Or maybe up to half a Cheeto,
But not a current credit card.
You may, though charmed, be apprehensive
About the price, and this is high;
It’s made, however, less expensive
By all the stuff you cannot buy.

by Jerome Betts

(Theresa May faces another “meaningful
vote” concerning Brexit on March 12th.)

MPs argue! Softer! Harder!
European Union’s vile?
Some deal? No deal? Stock the larder!
Weasel words and bilge and bile!

Referendum? Splits! Dissension!
Break up? Scotland leaves UK?
No election! Claim extension?
Backstop? Back-stab? Bye-bye, May?

by Phil Huffy

“Last week, Michael Cohen revealed that he threatened academic institutions not to release Donald Trump’s school records.”
—The Washington Post

Down at the Middle School,
in archives there curated,
the President’s old 5th grade files
have now been infiltrated.

Some of the data kept,
and records there collected,
appear removed or modified
by persons undetected.

Those portions which remain
of all the things impacted
include report cards still on hand,
though heavily redacted.

And IQ quotient scores,
so vital to our nation,
now show irregularities
suggesting alteration.

by Nora Jay

“I met two T-shirt vendors who had parked their carts, full of Trump hats, hoodies and pins, in the path of the attendees. Angel Gaudet and Skaheen Thompson, both from South Carolina, have been following Trump to his rallies since his 2016 campaign. …
I asked if they would support higher taxes for millionaires if it meant that people like them would get free healthcare. Gaudet didn’t hesitate. ‘No, because one day we might be the millionaires.’”
—The Guardian

O what could hearten Mammon more
Than such accommodating prayers:
The aspirations of the poor
To be as mean as millionaires?

by Dan Campion

“Why is so much of television so bad? … I would like to see television improved.”
—FCC Chairman Newton Minow, in famous 1961 speech

“Shows like ‘Barry’ and ‘Russian Doll’ are trying to re-instill basic lessons in human decency that might have gotten misplaced somewhere.”
—The New York Times, 2019

Where did I place my dignity?
I’ve dropped it, like a key.
No need to search on hand and knee;
I’ll find it on TV!

Now, where’s lost generosity?
Where can that virtue be?
But (short a vow of poverty)
I’ll find it on TV!

Where’s modesty? Where’s chastity?
That great whale, Decency?
O, Newton Minow, pray for me!
I’ll find them on TV!

by Julia Griffin

“Scientists stunned by discovery of ‘semi-identical’ twins:
Boy and girl, now four, are only the second case of ‘sesquizygotic’ twins recorded”
—The Guardian

Memini Gemini
Twins (names unknown to us):
Semi-identical,
Girl next to boy;

Savor the word for them:
Sesquizygotical!
Sesquipedalia—
Always a joy.

by Chris O’Carroll

Though they tortured our guy in their prison,
Kim has said he knew nothing about it.
Ever since our first beautiful summit,
I’m in love with him, so I don’t doubt it.

I believe in the Prince and in Putin
When they say to me strongly, sincerely
That they’re not into bone saws and hacking.
They’re tough leaders and I love them dearly.

By canoodling with Kim for the cameras,
I have proved I should win the Nobel.
He’s still got his nuclear weapons,
But believe me, the deal’s going well.

by Julia Griffin

“A new object has been discovered in the distant reaches of our solar system and given the name FarFarOut, according to a prominent astronomer.”—The Guardian

Time was when space was full of tales:
When Greek was still our mentor,
We had the Virgin and the Scales,
The Hunter and the Centaur;

The clustered moons of Jupiter
Were loves to share his slumbers;
But now astronomers prefer
To name things after numbers;

Alternatively, it appears,
The latest sort of craze is
To fasten on the cosmic spheres
Some well-selected phrases:

When now there swims into our ken
An object never labelled,
We call it not Square Root of Ten
Or Name of Someone Fabled,

But something that admits no doubt—
Not nerdified or silly:
Like, for example, FarFarOut,
Or LonelyLonelyChilly.

by Dan Campion

There was to be a signing,
Then Nobel Prize (a hunch).
But Kim and Don, repining,
Saved ink and canceled lunch.

The papers left unsigned-on,
The napkins left still bunched,
The cukes and nukes declined-on:
How sad. They should’ve lunched.

by Gail White

This is the wall that Trump wants.

This is the country of Mexico
that we were promised three years ago
would pay for the wall that Trump wants.

This is McConnell, who looks like a fish
and swore to fulfill the President’s wish
to raise the money that Mexico
(as everyone knew three years ago)
won’t pay for the wall that Trump wants.

This is Pelosi, canny and wise,
who made a congressional compromise
to thwart McConnell, who looks like a fish
and swore to fulfill the President’s wish
to raise the billions that Mexico
(as everyone knew three years ago)
won’t pay for the wall that Trump wants.

This is Trump, as bold as can be,
declaring a national emergency
to stymie Pelosi, canny and wise,
who made a congressional compromise
to thwart McConnell, who looks like a fish
and swore to fulfill the President’s wish
to raise the billions that Mexico
(as everyone knew three years ago)
won’t pay for the wall that Trump wants.

This is the Army, in discontent
asserting that all the money is spent
that Trump would take for a spending spree
on a bogus national emergency
to stymie Pelosi, canny and wise,
who made a congressional compromise
to thwart McConnell, who looks like a fish
and swore to fulfill the President’s wish
to raise the billions that Mexico
(as everyone knew three years ago)
won’t pay for the wall that Trump wants.

And this is Mueller, who gets to decide
if Russia committed democricide,
and everything else is irrelevant,
including the Army’s discontent,
the cash demanded from you and me
for a bogus national emergency;
Pelosi, McConnell, and all the rest
who’ve had to deal with the strange request
for billions of dollars that, sad to say,
the Mexican government will not pay
for building the wall
that Trump wants.

by Julia Griffin

“Cooking Sunday roast causes indoor pollution ‘worse than Delhi'”
—The Guardian

I’m quite engrossed (in fact out-grossed)
To learn of the pollution
Resulting from the Sunday roast,
That filthy institution.

Think: round the table flock your young,
So innocent and trusting;
And all the while each rosy lung
Is blackening and rusting.

The fumes are killing us by stealth:
It’s worse than central Delhi,
This onslaught on your household’s health,
This greasy casus belly.

The answer’s easy. Stow the stove!
Ban cookers from your kitchen,
Before your children’s cheeks turn mauve
And everything is itchin’.

Act, if you must do, by degrees;
Reduce by hints, or smidgens
These weekly boosts to lung disease:
Let geese give place to pigeons;

Cut these in two, then three—just carve
As long as you can see ’um:
Your house will be, the day you starve,
A spotless mausoleum.

by Dan Campion

“I want to be an apparition.”
—Karl Lagerfeld (1933-2019)

Wish granted. As it had to be;
We’re ghosts of fleeting passions
Who, like designs in organdy,
Slip on, then off, like fashions.

by Julia Griffin

after Kipling

“‘Yanked from the ground’: cactus theft is ravaging the American desert. …
In a scheme that made headlines, park workers began inserting microchips the size of pencil tips into cactus trunks, which could be scanned with an electronic reader.”
—The Guardian

If you wake at midnight, and hear some odd tap-taps,
Don’t go lighting up your tent or pulling back the flaps;
Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie:
Watch the dunes, my darling, while the Cactusmen go by.

Five and twenty shovels
Digging through the sand:
Cactus for the greenhouse, up in Maryland,
Cactus for Dudinka, cactus for Dubai;
Watch the dunes, my darling, while the Cactusmen go by!

If you see a blemish on a cactus stem,
If you see a Ranger-man (O there’s lots of them!),
If it’s just a teeny mark like a pencil tip,
Leave a sign, my darling—’tis a tricksy micro-chip.

Holes and divots down the trail—engines after dark—
Don’t you start disturbing spadework in the park;
Watch the merry wind farms twirling in the sky:
Praise them to the Rangers while the Cactusmen go by!

If you do as you’ve been told, made yourself some use,
You’ll be give a chollas or pachycereus,
Rattail or espostoa, or a prickly pear:
A present from the Cactusmen, to trade with in Bel Air.

Five and twenty shovels
Digging through the sand:
Cactus for the greenhouse, up in Maryland,
Will it bloom in Oslo? Don’t know till you try—
Watch the dunes, my darling, while the Cactusmen go by!

by Julia Griffin

“The first trailer for ‘Frozen 2’ is here…”—fastcompany.com

Finally! The Frozen teaser—
Let’s denote it just The Freezer—
Lights the screen, deprived so long
Of the femininely strong.
Six whole years now, wigs and crowns,
Books and copyrighted gowns
Have but swelled that thirst for chill
None but Elsa could fulfill;
Now a wave of Disney’s wand
Sweeps her back, the shining blonde,
Tiny-waisted, giant-eyed:
Two parts insect, one part bride.
Also destined for reuse
Are the Redhead, Boyfriend, Moose,
Snowman (made a household star
By his bath toy avatar),
Ice and snow and snow and ice;
But this arctic paradise
Centers round its frost-princess,
Sister, savior, whose success
Thrills transgressive types worldwide,
Charms romantics, and beside
Proves, as human flesh cannot:
Cold, cold girls are hot, hot, hot.