King Elephant Takes a Dump

Of empty shelves and other related topics

What a wild week here On the Shelf—so crazy that I’ve barely had time to fill a page with words. My shelf, and all of the shelves around me, are empty. Our house, to our great surprise, sold on the first day, and we have already passed through many of the thickets of the home-selling maze without a single scratch. We close in two weeks and are scurrying to make arrangements in the new land while also trying to squeeze in visits with friends and my last musical jams.

In the meantime, the world around us crumbles under the weight of the Great White Elephant King and his posse of misfit oligarchs. I must not let a week pass without acknowledging the damage he wreaks, whether we supported him or not. For the record, I did not. Yes, inflation is up. No, interest rates are not coming down. He’s blaming everything from natural disasters to plane crashes on DEI. He’s dismantling government agencies left and right, and doing harm to US international relations, especially with our close neighbors. Already, some of those who voted for him are regretting their decision, wondering if maybe they made a mistake. They did. He hasn’t even dropped his worst yet. We are in the flood zone now, and the waters are rising. Hell wasn’t built in a single day, after all.

Update on the Underground Rebellion

I’ve heard through the crickets and cicadas that momentum is building. The artists, writers, and musicians are sharpening their pencils and tuning their instruments. Field Mouse has been twisting King Elephant’s mind like his largest pair of big-boy panties. Soon he will break, and he will be ousted, but what will happen after he is gone remains to be seen—because remember, he is not alone. It is up to us to make our country one that we are proud of.

Enough of that. This week I offer up haiku. Some of my writer friends have been “haiku-ing” their way across these troubled waters. We’re trying not to drown in sorrow. Maybe you’ll understand where I am coming from. Maybe not.

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Seventeen Syllables (x8) that Mean Things to Me

1. She prayed to her Lord
   God of Mercy, God of Love
   He worships himself

2. My eyes are open
   I’m woke and I am afraid
   Afraid for us all

3. The sea’s foamy waves
   Break over a sandy shore
   Weakened and beaten

4. The last red rose blooms
   Struggles against ice and wind
   Spring will come again

5. The stone in his chest
   Weighs nothing for ‘tis empty
   Never has it known love

6. Love knows no limits
   Neither sky nor earth below
   A point has no part

7. My heart is heavy
   Filled with dread of storms to come
   Perhaps he will die

8. Hope shoots up through snow
   The crocus blooms in meadows
   Sunlight streams through clouds

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Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed reading On the Shelf, please let me know. I am particularly interested in hearing which parts you most like. This publication will always be free. In the coming weeks I will republish a few revised older works, some memoir, and some short fiction pieces, as I’ll be in the turmoils of moving and will not have a ton of time to commit to this publication. As always, I appreciate your patronage.