Quit Dickens Around

May Trump find a lump of clean coal in his stocking.

The Infernal Verities

There's truth, the whole truth -- and then there's nothing like the truth.

Trump's behavior renders some of us speechless. If only it were the other way around...

I know this is lousy poetry, but consider what I'm working with here.

Perhaps the wrong progeny has been named as a "special advisor."

You can stand up for what you believe in, my friends -- just as long as you don’t take a knee.

I'm sure there won't be any risk of identity theft once we start filing our taxes on postcards.

I keep trying to make sense of awful politics through bad poetry.