For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
and next year’s words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning. –T.S. Eliot
Children in cages.
Journalist in pieces.
Charming a demonic dictator
with a bad haircut,
our leader said, “He speaks
and his people sit up at attention.
I want my people to do the same.”
I like beer. I like beer an awful lot.
Attention! Blackout Drunks.
Your inability to remember
is no proof of innocence.
We call B.S.
In June, in New Jersey –
can’t believe this news myself –
a fight among gang members
at an arts festival escalated
into a mass shooting.
At an arts festival.
The only way to stop a bad artist
with a gun
is a good artist with a gun.
I like beer, too.
Beer is not the problem.