Goldbrown upon the sated flood
The rockvine clusters lift and sway;
Vast wings above the lambent waters brood
Of sullen day.
A waste of waters ruthlessly
Sways and uplifts its weedy mane
Where brooding day stares down upon the sea
In dull disdain.
Uplift and sway, O golden vine,
Your clustered fruits to love’s full flood,
Lambent and vast and ruthless as is thine
Incertitude!
Guest column by Esme Bowles
Who says humans have the collective wit of inbred gorillas?
Well, I have, to be honest. But while I was on my human’s computer last week (I log on when he’s away to write crank letters to Cat Fancy magazine), I came across a story I had trouble believing: The primates in Congress passed a bipartisan bill.
And what drew the embittered parties in the together? The House passed a law making it a felony to eat cats and dogs. Seriously.
The bill, called the Dog and Cat Meal Trade Prohibition Act, would make it illegal to “knowingly slaughter, transport, possess, buy, sell or donate dogs or cats or their parts for human consumption.” Violators would be fined up to $5,000.
At first, I was elated. That creepy neighbor down the street eyes me like a roasted suckling pig every time I pass.
But the more I read, the more horrified I became. The article went on to note that eating dogs and cats is legal in 44 states.
What the fuck, people? We spend millennia guarding your homes, guiding your blind, pee-hydrating your petunias, allowing you to watch us crap in public, and this is your gratitude? Promising not to sell McYorkies?
Then I got to thinking: What other ludicrous laws have you hominid dummies left on the books? This is just a sample:
I’m hopeful the Senate will approve the bill and the president will act immediately (after all, he appears to like canines: He got nearly all the way through Clifford and the Grouchy Neighbors.
Still, you never know with the Senate. I’m guessing the bill will stall when Mitch McConnell demands that turtles be added to the list. 
I can’t stand the heat. I must confess.
I wrote the anonymous New York Times op-ed piece.
It wasn’t for the shitbird that is Donald Trump. It wasn’t for the raft of felony convictions among his political support beams. It wasn’t for that red tie that droops beneath his scrotum sac. 
It wasn’t his tendency to spit his dentures out when he tries to say “The United Schtates of Amirka.” It wasn’t for his 20 months of grammatical genocide; the guy is the Hitler syntax.
No, I felt compelled pen the note after John McCain died, and Pumpkinhead sent this tweet: “My deepest sympathies and respect go out to the family of Senator. Our hearts and prayers are with you!”
And apparently your tactlessness. Who includes an exclamation point in a sympathy note? That’s like a condolence card adorned with a cartoon duck. Sad.
Getting into the White House was a piece of cake; I hand-wrote on the back of a Post-It Note “Donald has the best words,” and waltzed past security.
To get into classified meetings, I needed a disguise of a “senior official.” Fortunately, Kellyanne Conway masks are a snap to make: Just picture a face smashed by another horse’s face (ever wonder why you’ve never seen a picture of them both together?).
Drop a couple of Mike Pence’s “lodestar” references to throw them off the trail (lodestar 1.noun:A star that is used to guide the course of a ship, especially Polaris.)
