day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY NINE

Fake News Letterman List… Ten Jobs
Donny Trump Can Apply for After he
Leaves the Oval Office

1 Polygrip spokesman
2 Writer of New Match Game “Boob jokes”
3 Wino
4 New celebrity spokesman for “Penis Extends”
5 You tuber, showing “forearm workout”
6 Lead role in new Dirty Harry movie— “Movement of Flab”
7 Create new soup “Cream of Lard"
8 Replaces Dan Aykroyd in SNL new version of Plumber buttcrack skit
9 Fights Hillbilly Jim on WWE next pay for view…Battle for the Geritol championship
10 Poses nude for “Playpen” magazine…Home of the new “Whoppers”

--Dan Provost

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY EIGHT

Las Vegas

Las Vegas Mayor Carolyn Goodman: 'This shutdown has become one of total insanity'
Mayor calls on governor to reopen Nevada 

So the Mayor of Las Vegas wants to reopen the city for business. Of course she knows that if that happens the plague will wipe out her city. Which of course is appropriate for Sin City to have the curse of the plague to come down on it. As long as whatever happens in Vegas—well, you know.

--Thomas R. Thomas

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY SEVEN

FUTILITY

It’s silly to remember

the solutions put forth

by this President. How

Google would put up a

website to save us.

CVS and Walmart get

us all tested. You can’t

expect him to mean it.

He denies responsibility.

You heard him. You

accept it.

--Chuck Joy

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY SIX

my long memory practices

toxic masculinity and social distancing

i hoard

betrayals and

transgressions

like items needed

in a pandemic

slights

and caustic comments

i store them away

for later use

i have a long memory, motherfucker

and a short fuse

so the other night

when you called my wife

a cunt

outside our bedroom window

because she asked you nicely

to keep your voice down

or move it down the street

and you acted like

the king of the macho world

shouting and preening and prancing

…until i showed up

i got that kept right here

little misogynistic man

close to me

for that time

when this is all over

and you and i

meet

in the hallway

in the laundry room

on the sidewalk

in the street

when you don’t know

what’s coming

when you’ve moved on

to verbally assaulting another woman

when you’ve forgotten who i am

and i come down

on you hard

like you said it to her

only

yesterday.

--John Grochalski

                                 

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY FIVE

A Disturbing Glimpse

It’s midnight
I see my neighbor open his door
and notice a giant
American flag
hanging on his
living room wall.

--Bob Pajich

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY FOUR

The Con is On

-Actors are con men and con men are actors.
Edward Burns

The Tiny Hands Tinted Tyrant
Vows to reopen the US economy
In the coming weeks
Even as deaths from COVID-19 rise
To boost his reelection chances in November.
“We cannot let the cure be worse
Than the problem itself,” he tweeted.
Only a few MSM Ken and Barbies
Ask, Where is he getting his information from?
He gaslights his base into believing
His intuition is more reliable than scientific facts,
Even though 16 million Americans
Are out of work, with numbers
Speculated to be 30 million in the coming weeks,
Worse than during the 1929 Great Depression
When 25% of the workforce was out of work.
The authoritarian-in-chief’s press briefings,
Staged political rallies,
Filled with self-adulation and slurred words,
As if he’s on drugs,
Feed his ignorant base,
A base devoid of critical thinking skills,
And lacking empathy,
Cheer and hold up signs
Like Latinos for Trump, and African Americans for Trump.
In the background I hear
Neoliberal centrist corporatist Wall Street Democrats
Singing Doo-wop, like that old Ink Spots song
“If I Didn’t Care,”
Appealing to the same donors
The Republicans have,
Continuing to vote for everything
The Orange Tinted Maniacal Maniac wants.
Like shades of Obama in 2008,
Bailing out the banks,
In the COVID-19 stimulus bill
Large corporations get 25% of the pie,
500b, individuals 300b.
Let me count the ways,
In a tenor voice
As lyrical as Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s 43rd sonnet,
The ways the American middle class
Is getting fucked once again.

--Victor Henry

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY THREE

Donald Trump Limerick #1

If Don was unloved by his Mama,
it would explain a lot of the drama --
his low self-esteem,
and his feverish dream
of being more loved than Obama.


Donald Trump Limerick #2

There once was a doltish aggressor
who lied at his pandemic presser.
He figured he’d use
his tried-and-true ruse
of blaming his black predecessor.


Donald Trump Limerick #3

There once was a man who was slow
who got caught in a quid pro quo.
He was following orders
from outside our borders
from a KGB agent and foe.


Donald Trump Limerick #4

There once was a dumb demagogue
whose thoughts were always a fog.
He was ever perplexed
by dementia's effects
and came off like a sputtering hog.

Donald Trump Limerick #5

There once was a man from Manhattan
whose pockets he wanted to fatten.
He couldn't predict
that the law was so strict
and Pelosi's as tough as George Patton.



--Eric Robert Nolan

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY TWO

Mr & Mrs Sisyphus

Wife sick on couch
brought on by stress
of over work and money worries

The daily rolling
of the worry rock
up our uncivilized hill

In this country
we eat our own
after we eat everyone else

But don't worry
every sale comes with
a conditional warranty

Nothing will break
until you get it home
and through your front door

Break two
get third break free
for thrice initial cost

All ingredients
guaranteed toxic
shoddy, bad for the body

Step right up
get your new uselessness here
no need to wait

Small initial payments
which will rapidly bloom
bigger than your eyes, head, or check

There's a chump for every trump
small hands optional
truth not included

- Steven B. Smith

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY ONE

I Fall Asleep to Sirens

I fall asleep to sirens
the way people in the country fall asleep to wolves
the steady constant wail
not unlike a howl
from deep inside
a call for help
a clarion call
a steady heartbeat
of noise

I fall asleep to sirens
deep within this city
that feels alive
now that no one is alive in it
a city that breathes
a city that waits
on its knees

head thrown back
and from its throat
the goodnight wail of sirens.

I fall asleep to sirens.

--Ally Malinenko

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and NINETY

frightened zombies wearing masks

the days of pandemic

are marked in solitude

and absurdity

as the sirens wail

down seventy-fifth street

chased by the barks of dogs

walked by owners

who no longer resemble people

but look more and more like

frightened zombies wearing masks.

--John Grochalski

                                                

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY NINE

Days of Our Lives in a Time of Coronavirus

Driving a bus

in a time

of Covid 19

means risking

your life

working checkout

in grocery stories

pharmacies

high risk

as well

Public health

workers without

proper person

protection gear

play Russian

Roulette

with Death

At daily briefs

the man who plays

president on TV

attacks reporters

he does not like

Whines about

“nasty questions”

the ones we most

want to hear

the answers to

but never do

He deflects

misdirects

misinforms

does not act

People die

                                     --Alan Catlin

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY EIGHT

"Swine King"

We elected a reality
show star to guide us into
a promised land of
plastic and semen.
Look where we are now:
the borders are ravaged with
leprosy and he's groveling for
attention, bragging about ratings.
Right-wingers adorn
themselves with tin-foil in
their quest to discredit
apocalyptic tones and
cry at anything that makes
their swine king look
like a pig.
Meanwhile, their families
beg them to listen to
reason with breath that reeks of
apathetic genocide.
The president takes
precedent over our loved ones.
His supporters kiss his feet with
rotted lips while the country
begs for a cure or to
be put down.
Will they pull the trigger with
their leader's numb hand or
will they swallow their
pride, admit they were
wrong, and help our
nation become stronger than
it ever was?

--Robert J.W.

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY SEVEN

i want to be a better person

but fuck you bitch

if you won’t tell me how

the dudes are out

us dudes are always out

loitering on corners

yelling on our cell phones

in front of windows

walking up and down the street

in packs of two or three or four

even during a global pandemic

us dudes are out

with our hands in our pockets

swinging our big dicks

getting coffee and a paper

like it ain’t nothing

maybe it ain’t

we’ve spread

toxic masculinity and misogyny

waaaaayyy the fuck further than some little flu

so stay inside ladies

you little punk-ass girlie men too

let the guys handle it

the tough guys

the real men

let us stay outside all day

jackhammering, buzz sawing

walking around in circles like we know our shit

then let us come back inside

for dinner and a beer on the couch

infecting you and yours

and everyone you love

like we always have

with our macho bullshit

roll our eyes and say

what are you bitchin’ about now, huh?

because the men got this

like we got everything else

you’re in good hands, babe

i swear

i promise.

--John Grochalski

                                   

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY SIX

I’m ready for the revolution, are you?

entire countries have slowed or stopped

we haven’t been this still here in America since 9/11

or maybe hurricane Katrina, or during the civil war

they’re sending refrigerated trucks to NYC

for the bodies, but

we’re not supposed to think about that

turns out the poorest workers are the most essential

million dollar babies flee cities as

we see the power of retail workers uniting out of necessity

I really hope this stoppage makes the younger generations think

about what life must have been like before the internet

it was fine

entire tribes of Native Americans may vanish but

we’re supposed to fret over finances

and send emoji hugs and kisses to each other

because of the internet and cell phone technology

fewer of us are freaking out

we’re still connected somewhere out there in the clouds

somewhere where energy is buzzing in the skies

bouncing off of satellites

that no one knows how to work

it’s all we have left that hasn’t failed us yet

and if it goes?

anarchy?

--Heidi Blakeslee

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY FIVE

April in a Time of Coronavirus

High speed

death road

rally races

down our long

sloping hill

mostly stopped

now

The “Let’s Celebrate

Spring” all night

beer blasts that

start at sundown

and end with dawn

and the outdoor

pot parties

both with loud

music

moved inside

or cancelled

Nights are mostly

quiet now

almost peaceful

Some nights

we even

sleep

well

                           --Alan Catlin

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY FOUR

Ten Days of Twilight

Before the twilight craze,
vibrant cities sang
Saturday night love songs
dinner dates lingered
at the Green Lady,
soaking up serenades
of smooth jazz.

Ten days later, strolling
magical city streets are
distant memories we long for. 
. 
Favorite neighborhood joints
serving after dinner desserts
of apple pie or cocktails
are locked and closed,
shop storefronts display
health warnings not wares. 

--Sara Minges

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY THREE

Who Did It?

Who engineered the Corona Virus?
Could it be the Chinese,
stealthy in their desire to torment
Donald Trump?
But they wouldn’t infect millions of their own citizens.
Would they?

Was it the toilet paper syndicates,
masters of short-term thinking,
probing the hidden places
selfishly willing to flush away
any iota
of safety?

I bet it was the eco-terrorists!
Prophets of overpopulation
savagely paralyzing
the virus of humanity,
benevolently bringing back
crystal clear waters,
soaring birds,
vibrant skies.

Maybe it was the dog-cat alliance,
the yelping canine hordes
abandoned
day after day after day after day,
yearning for the people they love,
frantic
to be petted and cooed at.
The dogs supplied the pack-animal heart
The cats the stealth.

Perhaps
we did this to ourselves,
an existential death wish.

More likely we are merely
sloppy, selfish, short-sighted.

--Ethan Goffman

Ethan Goffman’s first volume of poetry, Words for Things Left Unsaid, is due in 2020 from Kelsay Books. Ethan is co-founder of It Takes a Community, which brings poetry to Montgomery College students and local residents. He is founder and producer of the Poetry & Planet podcast on EarthTalk.org.

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY TWO

Pandemic

“It’s not death we fear but that things won’t be the same.” — Joan Colby

While sheltering in place, we tell ourselves

this is Mother Nature’s time out,

house arrest for a population

oblivious to what plastic,

chemicals, overconsumption

do to our bodies and planet earth.

Contagion and death counts escalate.

Self-serving politicians on both sides of the aisle

manipulate the stock market,

crash the economy to make a killing,

deny medical supplies, earmark billions

for a corporate slush fund.

Abandoned on the battlefield,

we’ve been told to trust optimistic misinformation,

Lord of the Flies guidelines to saving ourselves.

Dark memes provide gallows humor.

A skeletal horseman gallops toward apocalypse,

unopened packs of toilet paper under both bony arms.

--Jennifer Lagier

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY ONE

FEARLESS LEADER SPEAKS

It will all be over by Easter, he says.
Everyone back to work, all the
businesses re-opened, re-stocked.
Every thing and one back to normal.
Pay no attention to that over-educated
expert behind the curtain: he’s fired!
Billions in bailouts will have been
distributed by then to the expanding
ranks of worthy corporate personhoods,
so their executives can recover from
delayed bonuses for sloppy, disastrous
performances in the plunging market.
And all us common folk will have been
sated with checks barely big enough
to pay for the decent bender everyone
will need to go on to forget how much
they had to sacrifice to keep the needy
corporations afloat, to forget the sick
and the dying whose numbers will
continue to mount as the billionaire
businesses are revivified, healthy and
profitable. We’ll pull our Gloria Gaynor
CDs out of mothballs and sing along
with empty words about survival and
hope recovery doesn’t pass us by on its
way to numbered bank accounts in
Switzerland and Grand Cayman Islands.
Fearless Leader has spoken and even
a virus must pay attention, succumb to
forced optimism or find itself fired.

--M.J. Arcangelini

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY

Saving Capitalism, One Grandparent at a Time

“It kills me sometimes, how people die.”
Marcus Zusak, The Book Thief

Deaths from COVID-19
Continue to rise in the USA
With no sign in sight of flattening the curve.
But current Texas Lieutenant Governor
Dan Patrick,
Has a solution for thinning the herd.

A Republican Party sycophant,
A rising Priest of Prophecy
In Malignant Orange’s core
Of corrupt con artists,

A former radio talk show host,
Signing Rush Limbaugh in 1989,
Founder of his legislature’s
Tea Party Caucus in Houston
Patrick exalts in his ingenuity and brilliance.

During a conversation
With Fox News Tucker Carlson.
He suggested many grandparents in America
Would be willing to risk their health
In order to see a resurgence in the economy
Amid the coronavirus outbreak.

Patrick asserted lots of grandparents
Would be willing to die
To make America great again
For their children and grandchildren.

Like Coyote the Trickster,
Patrick has struck a Faustian bargain
With the devil
Based on profit, wealth, and consumption.

So sure profits will zoom again,
So sure Stocks will boom again
So sure assets will consolidate again,
He abandons his moral, ethical, and spiritual values,
And exchanges everybody’s sick and dying grandparents
For the capitalistic greater good.

--Victor Henry

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY NINE

Waiting, Immunocompromised: Two Weeks before the Shutdown

The child’s little head rests on the coats on my lap

The stomach virus his brother kicked in three days

Now at almost a week and with worsening pain.

I see the white strap around his ear and across his cheek

I smooth his blondish hair with my hands

We are in one of the few two-seat chairs so that he can lie still

Waiting

There are still magazines on the tables.

I try to shrink us up away

From the other seats

From the other sick people

Make us small enough to hide

The TV is on the Hallmark Channel

More people come in:

I’m not wearin’ no mask HAW HAW HAW!

Cough-cough-cough

This happens two trump hats in a row

They come back from sign-in with masks.

I want to shout at them:

My son’s mask isn’t to keep you safe

It’s for him

To keep out what he is not able to fight

To keep him alive

I almost lost him once to a disease he was just unlucky enough to have

To a disease that has no cure

Whose treatment weakens as it heals

I will not lose him to your ignorance

I want to walk over to the one who refuses to pull the mask over his nose

And break his snout off

Then wash my hands for twenty minutes, hit the hand sanitizer,

and go back to my seat

to keep waiting.

--M.G. Gainer

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY EIGHT

wash your hands

the mundane has become

my major activities

time carved out for washing dishes

or sweeping crumbs

and dust from off the floor

treated like i’d just run a marathon

wiping down old wine stains

while in other areas here i make them new

major accomplishments

soaping the handle on the front door

sterilizing light switches and cabinet knobs

not beginning to get drunk

until at least three o’clock

i’m staying in

and staying six feet apart from all of you

but social distancing has always been my trip

that is to say…i’m doing what i can

i don’t know if it’s enough

to come through to the other side

or what it’ll all even look like then

we’re locked up and down

and millions of us are getting sick or going broke

while the president leans smug on tv

fighting with his own inflated ego

casting game show bets

on who’s allowed to live

and who’s allowed to die

more worried about the stock market

then your bones and blood and flesh

because the rabid dog of capitalism

is still out there, my friends

salivating and spewing its virus

while it’s currently tied up in chains

to a budding spring tree

waiting just waiting to strike

landlords and corporations

turning all of those mom and pop greasy spoons

into taco bells and mickey d’s

your taverns into TGIFs

with a capital one bank on every block

a slice of dominos or pizza hut

target wishes and wal-mart dreams

you say you want a revolution

but most likely you’ll have a coke and a smile

you’ll shut the fuck up

and let capitalism have its way

so stay in and stay safe everyone

zoom me and i’ll zoom you

send you my top ten lists for everything

but first

please

please

please

make sure

to wash your hands.

--John Grochalski

                                                            

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY SIX

another clever species

I dreamed the ocean
came for me, maybe not
for me, maybe it just came
another sentry, policing
this planet, scrubbing virus
the blight of humanity

I think I was in new england
not that place matters
once it's gone, I was watching
waves, a wall of water came
unexpectedly, towered over
swallowed, sucked under
all it could. cars and people
slam together screaming

dread, foam, panic

I stare at a wall of water
think about lew welch
the red monk, his visions
I think I'm about to lose
everything, I've already
lost everything, I never had
anything anyway, there is
never anything but loss

I stood there, non-combatant
in the flow of enemy fire
no future in high ground
waiting my turn at never
but the ocean didn't want me

I stood with the destruction
this is all we have
to look forward to
our petty imaginations
can't see beyond
waiting to die, the hubris
of another clever species

--Jason Baldinger

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY FIVE

Pills

My father buys my psychiatrist's medicine for me.
His hand ruddy, his cheeks pale, he recalls
buying condoms in his youth.
Everything was sin then.
Everything is sin now.
He will place those pills peeled
on a white little porcelain.

--Kushal Podder

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY FOUR

HOUR OF THE WOLF

Awake at 3 AM to cold silence.
No music to disturb the night,
to let the wolf know I am about.
But the light gives me away,
now he sits, slavering, grunting
just outside the window where
I write. Crouching on the fresh
stump of a giant oak tree which
used to stand tall in that spot,
which used to creak and pop
when the wind blew strong,
unlike this quiescent morning
when nothing stirs but the wolf.
He wants into my house, tries to
sneak in on the soles of my shoes,
the surface of my hands. He wants
to settle down in front of my
heater, he wants food and drink
served to him. He wants my life.
The pack has been wandering,
hunting, sniffing out weakness,
stubbornness, sloppiness, the
slip-up and slipshod, those like me
who are overwhelmed by all the
precautions, warnings, admonitions.
Weary of the constant vigilance, of
being perpetually reminded that
the wolf is prepared to pounce
and we are supposed to be ready.

--M.J. Arcangelini

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY THREE

caregiver

there is no provision
for taking care of
the caregiver

the caregiver
will not take into
account their own health

or lack of sleep, or time
for themselves
or a breath

and work
and time with
other people suffers

and the work will
punish the
caregiver

for their
lack of care they
give to their work

which gives them
greater stress
as they

forget
to breath
and to eat

or think about
their own
needs

and then they
will feel guilty
when their loved one

is demanding and they
resent the constant
calls for help

and ever present
in their minds is the
fear of losing the one they love…

--Thomas R. Thomas

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY TWO

DEPORT TRUMP

                                        Photography By John Grochalski

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY ONE

Love in a Time of Coronavirus

Before the inevitable
days of judgment,

reckoning
with Death,

the fear of mortality
is a stimulant
like no other-

a prime motivator
for love ,

for exuberant lust
in all those
heat stifled nights

free floating,
miles from shore,

a yellow cross
painted on
our bow;

no land ahoy
for us to step
out on

Love each other
while you can,

we think,

the universal
virus is
among us

--Alan Catlin

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SEVENTY

Lions And Lambs

a photo shows the lamb

lying on its side, skinned

in the butcher shop window

the raw meat

dark pink and red

white of sinews and bone

the head’s still attached

a lidless black eye stares too wide

above the sign advertising its life

for 4.99 a pound

a creepy image, to be sure,

but I think people should look...

maybe even be forced to look—

into the eyes of a creature

they’re about to devour

for 4.99 a pound...

or 9 bucks an hour...

10, 7.25, whatever

but our lions so rarely

meet their lambs

they roar their dictates

from behind iron gates

on high and faraway hills

from behind a shield of laws

twisted to fit the shape

of their cannibal hearts

--Brian Rihlmann

day ONE THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED and SIXTY NINE

(D.T.) Delirium Tremens

In the end,

they will crown him Emperor.

Rose petals

will be thrown at his feet from baskets

by porn stars and beauty queens

for him to walk upon.

People will come to him

and be healed by his touch.

His touch will turn them into gold

and they will become like statistics

on Stock Market charts.

He will pour goblets of oil for all

to quench their thirst.

A bounty of Big Mac's and Filet o Fish

will be eaten.

Gluttony will abound.

Scriptures will be tweeted

and read aloud in the virtual public squares.

No one will understand them

so they will be transformed into fables

of unlimited profits for all who can grab them.

His pale, untarnished image

will adorn every news feed on every phone

and many will kiss his ass.

Strip malls will be erected in his honor.

Jobs will be plentiful

at every WaWa, Wal-mart and Sheetz.

Desire, disposable plastic and insatiable lust

will become the new ecology

and will take the form of a flag

flying from the back

of someones gas guzzling pick-up truck

racing off towards the edge of a bottomless ravine,

the driver still clutching his gun as he falls.

All hail the Emperor!

--Carl Kaucher