Another shooting? How about some…




Thoughts & Prayers

This is for the gun gods
the My AR-15 weighs a ton gods
the doesn’t matter what you did you’ll still get done gods
the church mass massacre calling home the nun gods
the draw in the raffle see what weapon you’ve won gods
the pop the kid with the plastic pistol playground fun gods
the if you’re white it’s alright, if you’re black better reach for the sun gods
the stop!-I’ll-shoot-you-in-the-back-if-you-run gods
the guns got safeties and you got none gods
the present is dystopian w/o the future’s set your phasers on stun gods

we have not yet spilled enough blood
& there is more to spill
we have not yet spilled enough blood
& there is more to spill

we beseech you, grant us
        gats for teachers & straps for preachers
        toolies for tots & toasters for teens
        glocks for girls & biscuits for boys
we need burners & heaters
               heat & street sweepers
        a piece for peace of mind
        a problem solver for algebra time

grant us the weapons we need for
        elementaries & junior highs
        movie theatres & senior highs
for night clubs & churches
for shopping malls & other houses of worships
for concerts & pool parties & county fairs & baseball practice fields

we have not yet spilled enough blood
& there is more to spill
we have not yet spilled enough blood
& there is more to spill

our arms dealer who art in heaven
hollow points be your game
your amendment come, your will be done
in schools as it is in cinemas
give us this day our daily clips
and forgive us our friendly fire
as we forgive those who fire against us
and lead us not into gun regulation
and deliver us from safety
for thine is the gun show
and the power and the gory
forever and ever
bang bang



M. Jordan, where is my painting? — NPM

The following is an attempt at a sonnet in French (panic not! a translation, rough like sandpaper, follows). For those francophones who follow the blog, it is not really a sonnet in French, given the sketchy scansion and non-rhymes of some lines. So let’s call it a faux-sonnet, or a fauxnnet, shall we?



La Société Surréaliste
Les araignées et les citrouilles font la grève,
dans laquelle je vois des immeubles flambés,
allumés par les dalmatiens-pompiers.
Au jardin, un chameau lit un journal, fume, rêve

de l’avenir, de l’eau.  Il feint d’ignorer l’élève
qui essayait de nouer un plan.  Mais il s’est
noué dans ses idées.  Et le chameau, il sait
libérer cette peste—ils s'associent à la grève.

Les araignées, les citrouilles sont sérieuses
bien que le chameau et l’élève dansent et chantent
en écoutant la musique des manifestants.

Je me demande:  Comment on capte le merveilleux?
La télé montre cette spectacle obsolète
et n’importe où quelque dieu se gratte la tête.

The spiders and pumpkins are on strike,
in which I see burning buildings
lit by firefighter-dalmatians.
In the park, a camel is reading a newspaper, smoking, dreaming
of the future, of water.  He pretends to ignore the student
who is trying to come up with a plan. But he's caught
up in his own ideas.  And the camel, he knows
how to free this pain in the neck--they join the strike.
The spiders and pumpkins are serious
even though the camel and the student sing and dance
while listening to the music of the protestors.
I wonder:  How do you get the marvelous?
The TV captures this obsolete spectacle
and where ever you like, some god is scratching his head.