I Think Jesus

I think Jesus knows I’m nuts
so why would he arraign me
in front of all those saints on high

so sane they’ll never see me
skipping down the road  at dawn
and not a soul behind me.

Funnel clouds may tear through hell
but not the ones inside me.
They come and go all on their own

as if  they can’t abide me.
Today they’re off to New Orleans
so batten down the hatches.

When they return they’ll churn again
whirligigs inside me.
Yet every day when I get up

I know this much for certain:
I think Jesus knows I’m nuts
so why would he arraign me?

* * * * *

Nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes, Donal Mahoney has had poetry and fiction published in Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure and other publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa. Some of his work can be found at http://eyeonlifemag.com/the-poetry-locksmith/donal-mahoney-poet.html

His other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

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Dr. Hurley’s Digest, Vol. III, Issues 15-17

We’ve had some great  new writers as well as old hands at Snake-Oil HQ over the past two weeks. Here’s what you missed:

 

Monday – Poetry

Wednesday – Poetry

Friday – Fiction

Friday – Poetry

 

Stay tuned for some exciting Dr. H news coming up over the next couple weeks!

Let Any Agnostic Provide a Reply

After reading too much Aquinas

Would an aphid reside in an onager’s ear
if the onager’s master spoke Twi?
Or a Gascony scop with a leper elope
if a civet leapt out of a tree?
You doubt it? Read Thomas and see.

Would an addax in Denmark gyrate
if an emu in Sweden bore freight?
Or an eland in Chile complain
if jerboas in Goa refrain?
You doubt it? Read Thomas and see.

For really I thought ‘twas the onager taught
the aphid the tenor of Twi, and that
Gascony scops with Norwegians eloped
when Danes had lepers to tea.
You doubt it? Read Thomas and see.

* * * * *

Nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes, Donal Mahoney has had poetry and fiction published in Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure and other publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa. Some of his work can be found at http://eyeonlifemag.com/the-poetry-locksmith/donal-mahoney-poet.html

His other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

The New Machine

I’d
Much
Rather
Use
A
Mop

Than
A
Fancy
Machine
Step
Me
Up
Because
It
Cusses
And
Fusses
And
Falls
Apart
And
Cost
A
Pretty
Buck
When
All
You
Need
Is
A
Stick
And
Yarn
Like
Strings
That
Will
Do
The
Job
And
Quickly
Without
Complaint.

 

* * * * *
Danny P. Barbare is a Southerner living in Greenville, SC. His poetry has recently been included in Raven Images and Indigo Rising Magazine. He says he likes going on long walks, enjoying writing poetry in free verse style. His submissions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Phlegmatic

I thought of including phlegm in this book.
But phlegm is almost exactly like it sounds:
the sticky mucus that coats your throat, choking
you until you expel it with a round

of wet coughs that signals to all around
that you’ve got a cold. But phlegmatic just
means composed, apathetic, abounding
in phlegm, but not in the sickly, disgusting

sense – in the ancient sense of the four
humors, bodily elements thought to
govern a person. Phlegm was the humor
thought to cause sluggishness and calm, imbuing

the person with an evenness of temper. Still,
soothing or not, the word makes you sound ill.

* * * * *

Holly Painter is a Creative Writing MFA graduate of the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand. Her poetry has been published on four continents, and in dozens of literary journals and collections, including the New Zealand Listener, Sport, Landfall, JAAM, and the Cream City Review. Holly lives in both Ann Arbor, Michigan and Singapore and works as a copy-editor, a poet-for-hire (adoptapoet.wordpress.com), and a volunteer at 826michigan. Her submssions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Mermaid

Mermaid stands on her tail
and plays violin
first chair, in the
Nashville Symphony Orchestra

By special arrangement
she slides into a tank of seawater
between solos

She has such a light touch
the critics say

Her touch is full of air
free of water weight
Her instrument
a Stradivarius
worth a quarter-million dollars
artfully cover her breasts
as she slides the bow

In the audience country singers
still in their cowboy hats
despite glares from the well-coiffed women
behind them
and sailors in the hall too
one with an unlit cigar chomped between
yellowed dentures
wonder:
But how does she spread her legs
for sex?

* * * * *

Mitch Grabois was born in the Bronx and now lives in Denver. His short fiction and poetry appears (or will appear) in over a hundred literary magazines, most recently The T.J. Eckleberg Review, Memoir Journal, Out of Our and The Blue Hour. He has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, most recently for his story “Purple Heart” published in The Examined Life in 2012. His novel, Two-Headed Dog, published by Xavier Vargas E-ditions, is available through AmazonBarnes and Noble and Smashwords. His submissions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Dr. Hurley’s Digest, Vol. III, Issue 12

Check out what you missed this week at Dr. Hurley HQ.


Monday – Poetry

Wednesday – Art

Friday – Smithsonian

More to come next week.

On the Dock

Are
You
Shallow
Or
Deep

Says
The
Water
Slow
To
Get
To
Know
Before
You
Dive
In
Elusive
As
Fish
But
Warm
To
The
Toes
From
The
Muddy
Banks
To
The
Golden
Glow.
* * * * *
Danny P. Barbare is a Southerner living in Greenville, SC. His poetry has recently been included in Raven Images and Indigo Rising Magazine. He says he likes going on long walks, enjoying writing poetry in free verse style. His submissions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Dr. Hurley’s Digest, Vol. III, Issue 11

Some great poetry this week. If you missed it, check out the goodies below.

 

Wednesday – Poetry

  • Plop by Holly Painter

Friday – Poetry

 

More coming this week, including some Smithsonian work from editor EEJ.

Something Something

“Something something,”
says my niece when the power of her brain sparks
too bright for words—
expressions, idioms, understandings, you name it.
She works the somethings into conversation—
a meme for me now
to which I stack up my bests,
thankful for my matter.

Something something
happened once and now
I’d rather talk about
anything else.
There’s something
like a hope curve, says science—
a burst of cure between the lines,
the thin white space of unknown,
something something.

* * * * *

Marcella Hammer is a writer and an entrepreneur. She lives in San Francisco and enjoys mountain biking, running and good German beer. Follow her on Twitter @marhammer. Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.