America's Most Critical Journal since 1999
He had made it a molten calf: and they said: “These be thy gods.” —Exodus 32:4 Desperate, despised and dumb, a dancing bear, With Musso’s scowl, small hands and gilded hair. His puerile tantrums and his infant’s rage So ill become a statesman and a s... More »
(With apologies to Wallace Stevens’ “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”) I. April is the cruelest month, when youthful hearts with passion burn, and everyone else must file an income tax return. II. Draft versions of her tax retur... More »
A cavalry officer who isn’t dead by 30 is a coward. – Napoleonic cavalry general Antoine-Charles-Louis, Comte de Lasalle (1775-1809) I. Ney Marshal Ney swears (like a loyal trooper, pardon my French) to serve the British. Napoleon, tending to fat now, is ... More »
I will love you in the morning I will love you in the night I will love you when you’re loving I will love you when you’re right. I will love you without makeup I will love you when you’re clean I will love you when you’re dirty I will love you when yo... More »
By a lonely Irish ward, I heard an infant wailing “Mammy, they said they’re taking me away, For the people repealed the 8th To be cut in pieces is my fate Mammy, save me, or I’ll never see the light of day!” Cruel, cold, the knives of A... More »
“Plath…reports that she’s used ‘the dregs of my inspiration’ to write six entries for a jingle-writing contest for Dole pineapple…. She also entered contests for Heinz ketchup, French’s mustard, Libby’s tomato juice, and Slenderella.”... More »
Finally. Now Elian Gonzales can go to Florida by boat without feeling guilty. He understood beautifully that ideology was more important than cancer or justice or peppermint drops. We have witnesses–the black soil, the yellow sand, the long roads but als... More »
“Roseanne,” we were told, would shed light, On what’s up with the Trumpian Right, But before season two We’ve re-learned what we knew, Trumpism is, at its core, racist shite. More »
[After Andrew Marvell’s To His Coy Mistress] Would you had clout enough, or ties; Your cringe, my dear, might not be so unwise. We would mutually massage, and think which way To wank, and pass our long love’s day. Thou by the Roche-Bobois Shouldst rubbers ... More »
By Martin H. Levinson How do I love me? Let me count the ways. I love me when I rise at break of day, staggering around blindly in a haze in search of car keys sadly gone astray. I love me when I say a careless thing that I regret cannot be taken back. ... More »