Trump’s latest guests, somewhere in the logs,
Mocking a recent opponent. Guess who!
Another controversy, another clog.
Would they do this to Melania too?
In 2012, something similar came about.
This behavior is wrong. Yet their guide,
Trump himself, let them go all-out, throughout.
Will Spicey be insensitive, or just hide?
What’d they eat? Baked Alaska, of course.
Palin can see Russia from Alaska,
Maybe Trump’s advisors met there, and outsourced.
Keep watching ’em (this time, try Nebraska)!
It’s time for you to stand up and listen.
Condemn this awfulness, that’s your mission.


Last evening nightmares opened up my eyes—
I dreamt of politics subject to lament—
And, hands still shaking, I met a surprise
When late-night news streamed “Madam President!
Still stupefied, I searched, opened the blinds—
Looked out upon a world I saw anew!
Without Twitter tirades or fear-plagued minds,
This universe was too good to be true!
Walls crushed, bans gone, no “alternative facts,”
Gone Ryancare, and Russia, Dreadful Sound
Mike Pence is past, and Spicer can RELAX,
‘Cause big old baby Donald’s not around…
Yet when I saw no one had been offended,
Reality returned and daydreams ended.


The day is late, but on comes TV light.
“Live from New York it’s Saturday night!”
It’s forty-two years old, but now has found
Its stride, a switch; this show has turned around,
Its ratings up, a 20-year precedent,
All thanks to our new thin-skinned president.
In fact, they’ve taken shots at all his staff—
At Sessions, SpicerPutin—they don’t laugh.
In truth, Sean Spicer wants to take it well
But furious Trump will not let him retell
The jokes he says are mean; it is so bad,
Trump thinks, to be mocked by a woman. SAD!
In Trump these skits a desperate anger woke—
What kind of leader bans political jokes?


A call is placed from Spicer—high alert!
The trusted men and women straggle through.
Attorneys prod and poke and lift the skirts.
He’s looking for the source, whose ass he’ll chew.
The accusations fly across the room.
iPhones are grabbed, the tablets nabbed—adieu
To your career, if secrets found—you’re doomed.
“Confess!” he yells, while staring down his crew.
Their protestations counter every charge
Of treason Spicer lays on his new guard.
The tempers flare in people small and large,
Their reputations questioned, threatened, marred!
I pity them, who take the fall for me,
Though all I say is, “coffee, Sean, or tea?”


The Truth: where does it live now? Twitter? Press?
Can it make “FAKE NEWS” from “illegal leaks
(Which must be true to be illegal)? Stress
Is making Logic, friend to Truth, feel weak.
Next step: to make America so great
Again that we can all be in the room
With Truth, instead of only those who hate
Our immigrants, but hum a Russian tune.
And now we hear the president will skip
The rubber-chicken roast that counts as dinner
For journalists who love a winning quip
That wields the facts against their favorite “winner.”
Trump won’t attend their party–too uncouth;
He’s fairly safe from Humor, with his Truth.


Farther and farther off, until the news
Is orbiting another, cooler star
Entirely. This sense of life is far
From life; the sound of news, a déjà vu
Like images of rocks, irradiated
Before the chance of life can emerge.
If we imagine hawks, it is an urge
Built of old command, of nations stated
In scripture, circles from the hands of monks
Read once as warning, then as trap again,
And finally as fencing enemies
From oval office. Mad frequencies debunk
The real, the phone just rings and rings the drain,
And cruelly, all souls turn planetesimal.



A man of business, TV, and spray tans
Is now in office. He has big—huge—plans.
Now younger hands will handle business facets—
Without his power they’d fumble his assets.
They met the Japanese; with equal ease,
They tagged along to meet the tech industry.
When leaders discuss regulation’s costs,
His heirs just take their place around the trough.
He tries to make his animal farm rich.
It’s added to an ever-growing list.
Napoleon can seize what he desires.
The pigs will gain because we fight and tire,
As Spicer squeals, and expects us to buy,
“As long as market’s open, we’ll sell high.”