Wednesday, December 21, 2005

He talked exactly what I wanted to hear

People may think that Dubya speaks badly due to substandard intelligence. But actually it is all part of the genius of his main speechwriter...

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

a poem about prairie dogs

down to prairie dog town

"One litter is born to the Prairie Dog female each year. During a 4- or 5- hour estrus, a female Prairie Dog may mate with as many as 5 different males, allowing pups from the same litter to have different fathers...."

three hundred and sixty four and three quarters days
men wander the streets
keeping watch, digging tunnels
training the young to burrow and bark
funneling tension in the occasional run
marking time in feedings and rest
and watching the sky like a widescreen tube.
the best shows distract libidos.
no fantasizing about fat rolls,
fur holes,
or willing bodies flopped languidly on the dirt;
only one channel with clouds and the fiery ball circled by hawks.

the desert sunsets don't inspire romance here.
stars never flirt with cynomis nocturnal hopes.
teenage couples don't park at the point,
and no admission to any emissions
when young males are alone in the dark.

there are no bordellos, no bitches of the night
no bar fights over possible mates
or hooning in tricked out cars
or flashy threads, cheap scents
or posturing over size.
the men realize this means nothing.
jealousy and loss are not immortalized in song.
there are no long engagements or promises of love,
no child support or requirements to pay the rent.
no. all that matters in time and place is luck
for once the waiting time is done
all the females want to fuck.