by Dan Campion

The voice of HAL (viz., Douglas Rain)
Has gone where all high tech goes.
We will not hear his like again,
Though, in “smart” homes, it echoes.

by John Foster

Thanksgiving Day in Albuquerque,
That city with the spelling quirque.
The menu’s not southwest beef jerque;
Instead, a perque breast of turque.

by Julia Griffin

after Philip Larkin

“‘Pure joy’: refugees fleeing conflict delighted by first snow in Canada”
—The Guardian 12th November 2018

Eritrean refugees
Out of danger, far from home,
Meet strange welcome overseas
Where it’s cold and monochrome.
Bundled up against the freeze,
Running out of doors they find
White above, before, behind:

Everywhere, completely real!
And they cup their hands in glee,
Tasting winter like a meal:
Earth’s clean generosity.
Kids at last, they jump and squeal,
Letting all of YouTube know
How utterly they love the snow.

by Susannah Greenberg

Justice is broken, she lies on the floor,
and if she should die, there’ll be justice no more.
We’d like to believe she is strong, she is tough,
but she’s fragile and old and it hurts her to cough.
He says she is rapidly losing her mind.
The justice he likes is a different kind,
one that’s drunken and feral and never quite blind,
and kisses his royal fake POTUS behind.
He sits on his throne, as he schemes and he tweets.
Justice is broken; we take to the streets.

by Julia Griffin

When to the Sessions of sweet silenced thought
I offer new ideas for self-expression,
I tell him: “Write your memoirs (they’ll be bought),
And make the title Sessions’s Confession.”

by Bruce Bennett

Mueller, O Mueller, we wished you would act.
It may be too late now. We’re faced with the fact
of Whitaker now in the role of AG.
There may be a shitstorm. Who knows? We will see.

There may be a shitstorm. Trump’s off on a tear!
It’s driving him crazy that Mueller’s still there.
He rants and he raves, like a petulant king
whose time’s running out, while he can’t do a thing.

Does he act like a man? No, he acts out instead,
and he orders his minions to bring him a head.
We are down to the wire. We have to face fact.
O Mueller, please, Mueller! There may be time. Act!

by Dan Campion

No blue wave fit for surfing broke,
No red tide rose in combers.
Our ever-changeful sea’s best joke:
Still wine-dark, just like Homer’s.

by Julia Griffin

“A New York man was arrested and charged with hate crimes Friday night after anti-Semitic messages were found in a temple, police said.”—CNN

The synagogue is all agog:
Who will it be this week?
There’s quite a crowded catalog,
Enough for every clique.

Is it the White Supremacist
With KKK tattoos?
Blame Trump and Fox, the Dems insist,
Who spread such racist views!

Is it the young black Brooklynite,
High hope of academe?
He worked, to Hannity’s delight,
Upon Obama’s team!

Is it the Muslim raised in Fez,
Karachi, or LA?
The left wing’s fault! the right wing says;
Guess what the leftists say?

For craziness about the Jews
Runs deep on either hand:
Which may be all we have to fuse
This twice-self-righteous land.

by Bob McKenty

Negative campaigning works.
Who wants either of these jerks?

by Edmund Conti

“I tell the truth when I can.”—DJT

An eye for an eye.
A tooth for a tooth.
A lie for a lie.
A lie for the truth.

by James Hamby

Remember, remember, the sixth of November
The Russian collusion and plot;
I know of no reason why Donald Trump’s Treason
Should ever be forgot.

by Chris O’Carroll

I’ve got your 14th Amendment right here.
I’m taking your birthright away.
Executive orders can do that this year,
Many top legal scholars now say.

I’ll bag one Amendment then hunt down some more
I can fix, if you know what I mean.
I know Kanye loves me, but all’s fair in war—
I’m taking a look at 13.

by Julia Griffin

after Louis MacNeice

“Tokyo garden loses fortune because ticket seller was scared to charge foreigners:
Man let about 160,000 tourists into Shinjuku Gyoen garden rather than risk
being yelled at for not understanding them.”—The Guardian

The tourists in the garden
Harden and grow cold.
I’m jumpy as a cricket:
The tickets are unsold;
I don’t feel bold;
I squeak, “I beg your pardon…”

They’re angry, loud freeloaders
With sodas. It’s the end;
Municipal grim reapers,
That’s keepers, will descend;
And soon, my friend,
There’ll be some evil odors.

It should be gratifying
Supplying what one sells;
But stress is always mounting,
Counting each coin or else
Those dreadful yells!
I’m trying, Gyo-en, trying

And not expecting pardon,
Barred and de-pensioned too;
But is it such a wonder
Blunders occur—have you
Not once let through
A tourist in the garden?

by Barbara Loots

“Stolen in Kansas City: 10-foot-long inflatable
model of human colon.”—Kansas City Star

The back of the pick-up is empty. It’s gone.
An item that no one can peddle or pawn.
So what is this whimsical crook going to do
With a pink plastic colon a crowd can pass through?

This news is alarming and hard to digest.
How soon will the culprit be under arrest?
Oh please, let no innocents get blown apart
By the criminal use of the world’s biggest fart!

by Michael Calvert

“President Donald Trump and Sen. Ted Cruz (R-Texas) were all smiles during a rally in Houston … appearing to move past their history of name-calling and condemnation.”—HuffPost

Hello, Houston! I thought I’d pass
This way so Ted can kiss my ass,
And fawn, and sing my praises loud
In front of an adoring crowd.
I called his wife a dog, it’s true—
‘Cause that’s the kind of thing I do,
But you can see the dog’s not her.
It’s Ted who is the cringing cur.