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Everyone who matters (and that means me and you)
Gapes where Trump is dancing the electric bugaboo,
On a stage where no one matters, not even you and me,
Except himself and, now and then, a loyal appointee.

Early on a morning cheery, as I mused on quantum theory,
Reading many strange, mysterious papers over petit-fours—
As I jotted hopeful scrawlings, suddenly I heard a squalling.
“Half a cat is caterwauling in the box there on the floor,
Just a half-existent feline screeching like a pterosaur.
I should open it before....”

In the nation that forgot
Nothing works that worked before;
Policy is scattershot;
No one is from Ecuador;

Donald lying through and through
Has no fault, though woe betide,
And the bridegroom—strange but true—
Never turns into a bride.

If the world should fall out of your brain
And onto your shirt
Well it might not hurt
But then it’s made of dirt
You better rinse it off so it doesn’t stain.

love to read them humans
humans what I love to read
cite they little archives
nibble on they tiny feeds

I looked for a sloe-eyed woman
And found, not eyes of jet,
But eyes of propellers turning
In flight from alleged learning,
As sloe as she can get,
As if she were returning
From being a suffragette.

Pack the malls with vows of folly
Hahahahaha ha ha ha ha
No one will divert the trolley
Hahahahaha ha ha ha ha
Donald Trump is in the barrel
Hahahahaha ha ha ha ha
With the monkeys and Will Ferrel
Hahahahaha ha ha... ha... huh

Hear the ancient Kalevala,
Wise and ancient Kalevala,
Reconstructed Kalevala
From the 19th century,
From the spirited dynamic
Counterrevolutionary
Year of 1849.
Scholars traveled diligently
Seeking fragments of the epic,
Fragments of the Kalevala,
Which they patched together neatly,
Sewing it into a whole,
Almost like it fit together,
(Frankenstein could do no better)
Almost like it fit together,
Back in 1849.
All is carefully authentic
But the parts that were invented,
Which I am about to fix.
Let me go! I'm gonna fix it!

Earthquack

When the world was sky and water,
Lacking any continent,
Also lacking any island,
Lacking any land at all,
Down from heaven flew a duck,
Gaudy noisy orange duck,
Quacking like a firetruck,
Aiming for a woman's knee
(Possibly a little higher)
As the duck so often does.
Quack the first became the sun,
All the light of all the truth.
Quack the second was the moon,
Changing all too frequently.
Quack the third was solid earth:
Finally a place to gather,
Build the houses, clear the land,
Dig and work the solid iron,
Iron for our use and vengeance.
This the truth I have discovered
In my diligent researches,
This the truth to lead the way this
Counterrevolutionary
Year of 2024.

Not brains, not skill, not luck.
I called any god on high
To find an excuse for this orange duck,
Who is not just a stupid guy,
But a dumbfuck dumb as a dumptruck
Under the dumbstruck sky.

Yankee Doodle polish up
Your Yankee Doodle branding
Stick some mortar on your board
And call it understanding.