My Swivel Chair

I’m sitting in my swivel chair
I do so love to swivel
My swivel chair is true and sweet
And all the rest is drivel
I’ve got emails, emails, emails
(Writing back will take a while)
I’ve got graphs and charts to verify
And legal docs to file
I’ve got financial data
That I really must review
And I’ll talk to the accountant
About sales progress too
I’ve a meeting with executives
About this re-worked draft
But first I’ll make a PowerPoint
And double-check my math
I’ve got scheduling to manage
And Excel sheets to fill out
And my supervisor wants another update
I’ve no doubt.
Yes, I’m busy busy busy
And this office life is hell
But at least I’ve got my swivel chair
‘Cause swiveling is swell.

The Achievement of Warbling

My, what warbles! We warble so sweetly to each other, to all men and women, and our warblings are echoed back to us, just as sweetly, as if under order by the Grand Boomerang. The Grand Boomerang knows: what beauty in the box of the voice! In its linkage to our war lungs, to our tired minds. What a literary escape is sleep, I say...what jewels are dreams...what frightening bliss it is to watch each other cry...if only we could spend all day asleep, crying, warbling...

Q & A about the Snack Mister

The great and wonderful Snack Mister has snacks for all who are snackless. He will put a snack under your pillow at night, and two snacks under your pillow if you are ill.
The snack mister is a kind of a superhero. He carries Cheez-Its, baby carrots, Capri Suns, and fruit roll-ups. He delivers snacks exactly when you don't need them: at night, when you are snoozing. This is because he's nocturnal; he doesn't have a choice. And anyway, you shouldn't complain, because after all, free snacks!
You can either eat them for breakfast or pack them in your lunch for school. If you get the baby carrots, I'm sorry, but just think about how much healthier you'll be. The rest of us will get diabetes at least three years before you. And even if you only get the carrots, you can brag to all your friends that the Snack Mister was at your house that night.
People have some questions about the Snack Mister. Does the Snack Mister ever hit the same house twice? The answer is yes, he does. He has his favorites. Blue houses, for example, which you might want to keep in mind if you're painting your house.
Another question: Has anyone ever woken up and caught the Snack Mister red-handed? Yes, a little girl named Gretchen. She's no longer with us. We're not sure why. Maybe she eloped with the Snack Mister. It's very unlikely that he kidnapped her. He's too nice of a guy. I mean, he hands out free snacks! So how bad could he be?
And the last question, the one that's been tugging at your mind the most: what does the Snack Mister look like? Well, eyewitness accounts say the Snack Mister looks like a caped, fist-sized ball of dough, with two arms, two legs, and small yellow eyes like flashlights. They say he can make snacks appear out of thin air.
One final question just for kicks: Where does the Snack Mister get the snacks? Well, as far as we know, no warehouses have been missing snacks. So we don't think he's a thief. He just makes them appear, snap of his fingers, POOF! Which makes me wonder what other kind of magic he's capable of...maybe, if he just applied himself, he could be so much more...

Steve Jobs

We could not bite into your orchard fruit
Or feel its crisp sweet in our teeth
Your gifts were more abstruse, packed with wires...
we slid our pointer fingers on the mandala of your music box...
tip-tapped on the keys of your smooth-screened genies...
held all the world and its tiny wings on your dial pad's beautiful grandchild...
and felt like passengers on the dolphin leap of your mind
giddy as we traced an arc above the past's mediocre seas.

The Streets

"My, my," says the glutton
"The streets are made of meat!
Chicken lampposts, sausage sidewalks, parking meter pigs' feet!"
"No sir," says the cop-man
"The streets are made of crime!
Robber lampposts, sniper sidewalks, rapist parking meter dimes!"
"Ain't so," says the psychic
The streets are made of stars!
Libra lampposts, Pisces sidewalks, meters misaligned with Mars!"
Well, the glutton eats the lampposts
and the cop takes sidewalks' names
and the psychic palm-reads meters
but life all goes on the same.

Gourmet Exterminators

Two little men with pinky-stink eyes
Munchin' on fleas and cockroach fries
Chewin' on buzzy ol' black houseflies
Scarfin' postprandial pillbug pies
Eatin' all buggers that creeps and flies
Charmin' gents! ('spite their pinky-stink eyes)

Are you a Lola, Lily or Layla?

Lola, Lily and Layla went to an art gallery and looked at a pretty painting.
"That's nice," Lola said nicely, her guts full of sludge and sugar.
"Nothing is nice," Lily replied darkly, her bones full of gravel and dust.
"Koom-walla-oink-oom-zonka-zibble," Layla said, and her insides were bright, dancing chickens.