Friday, May 24, 2024

News and Ideas Worth Sharing

Jon Swan

Jon Swan is a poet, translator, and journalist, who lived for forty years in the Berkshires and now lives in Maine. His website is jonswanpoems.com

written articles

Presidential Bible Quiz!

How much longer do I have to go on holding this book?

POEM: The Quack behind the Counter

Follow up, as indicated With a shot glass full of Clorox

POEM: White man in blue suit in White House

There is something truly Biblical about this fellow -- a Hoosier saint in-waiting,

POEM: Badger-State Blues

I have this sense that what we took for granted for so long -- the way we lived, and moved, and had our being -- will be changed for all time

POEM: Anchors Aweigh!

The flotilla of uplifted houses sets out in search of Nova Terra Firma.

POEM: Of Toads & Men

“How in the world can these senators walk around here upright when they have no backbone?”

POEM: Get Over It, Kids!

And think of it: if planet Earth is, in fact, warming faster than ever, as some say, what’s wrong with that?

The Sandwich Board Man at the Corner of Bolsonaro and Fifth

and the heat underfoot is getting hotter, as if the street’s on fire, and nobody can put it out

POEM: Mike & Matthew: Showdown at the Border

...if turned from meek-and-mild front to back, reveals himself to be the “whited sepulcher”...

POEM: A Dog’s Life

A dash of doggerel about dystopia, dictators,  and an Airedale.

POEM: Spinal Tap!

Spinal Tap! The Back Story of a Crippling Disease   When the article describing moral fibrosis, (including the protocol for diagnosis) appeared in the pages and under the aegis of the...

Poem: Conzoomerism, as the World Burns

The press is in on the consumer game, hustling glamor, bewitched by fame.

Poem: Dumb as a Rock

Allow me to suggest that you exhibit a collection of divots...

POEM: SCOTUS AWOL

Everyone agreed it was a bad hair day… And the president chose to watch TV, high and dry and far from the fray...

POEM: The King of Bedlam

The King of Bedlam is a portly tun whose three-legged stool he takes for a throne.

POEM: The Launching of the Slingshot Ride

you grip the sides and start to scream with something that is akin to laughter
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But Not To Produce.