Web

We spin a web of truths and near-truths and half-truths in the guise of good first impressions. Our words are mighty and strong, meek and humble, assuming the timbre of persona we choose to inhabit, manipulate, and maintain; in the cross-hairs of web spot we are enigmatic, with sublime opines and guttural rebuttals, caustic comic credos file merged with an elite self-conceit. Sweet nothings typed boldly in HTML mean something swell to recipients if ever glanced at at all, or read aloud as if conversing on a cyber settee, cozy though solitarily stranded. A touch of the keyboard is only the dull ache of hope and an anonymously virulent stratagem towards a most vivid touch.

Thing Sprink!

Students on Their Way to Florida

Their young voices
Fill the hallway,
Along with their father’s suitcases
And coolers of beer.
One joker is in shorts already,
Two thousand miles
From sunshine.
Smoky hours
Of pencils pushed
By Benzedrine
Have led to this moment--
And nothing now can spoil it.
What is on tap
Is Dionysian orgy,
Intermingled
With sex
That is indiscriminate
And terrifically meaningless,
Chemistry books
And calculus
Be damned.
A second joker
Brings dope,
While yet a third
Opens his duffel bag
And tucks
A slim volume
Of Schopenhauer
Between a tattered
Tennis shoe
And an orange
Wham-o
Frisbee,
Max flight.


--Boris Victor Stecko

The Doctors Will See You Now

I read that some of the bloggirls I read have been feeling under the weather as of late. Would it do any good to remind you to get a flu shot every fall to prevent unnecessary nausea and mad dashes to the bathroom without leaving a telltale trail from the livingroom? I didn't think so.

I must say that I do feel for you and hope that your recovery will be swift and painless. If you gals are not satisfied with the medical attention you are getting--I will gladly refer you to my personal team of doctors: Dr. Moe, Dr. Larry, and Dr. Curly. Just let me know. . .