The Best of Mad Swirl : 09.18.21

The Best of Mad Swirl : 09.18.21
••• The Mad Gallery ••• Mad Swirl is excited to introduce an incredible artist to our Mad Gallery, Thomas Riesner, who paints his strange and spooky work all the way from Leipzig, Germany. His work, though initially a bit unsettling, is still nice to look at – with an interesting combination of intentional lines and squiggles against[read more]

New Featured Artist : Thomas Riesner

New Featured Artist : Thomas Riesner
Mad Swirl is excited to introduce an incredible artist to our Mad Gallery, Thomas Riesner, who paints his strange and spooky work all the way from Leipzig, Germany. His work, though initially a bit unsettling, is still nice to look at – with an interesting combination of intentional lines and squiggles against watercolored seemingly free-formed[read more]

Rest In Poetry Paul Sexton

Rest In Poetry Paul Sexton
Last week we learned that the poetry world lost a near & dear Mad Swirler, Paul Sexton. The shock of his passing is still reverberating and has yet to fully sink in. The brevity of knowing we will no longer hear Paul's signature voice, emoting his pain, his anger, his joy, his rawness thru his[read more]

Beginning of the Lunar Year

At one point I thought I knew
but that was long ago. More recently
I’ve taken to reading Dilbert who looks out
from his thin but colorful frame
of an office that could be anywhere. He stays energized
and in the groove by keeping a list of what he’s got to do:
taking private messages off his voice mail,
riding waves with co-workers.
That livens the whole affair
and maintains him in ways he thought impossible before.

Then she called. My evening’s looking up.
There will be thunder in the reaches,
some humorous negotiations over wine,
alternatives will be presented, claims adjusted,
a new accounting will be made.
I’m enthralled by the prospect.
I can see it now: I make smoke signals,
look for responses, offer a prayer
as if this were the beginning of the lunar year.

– Dale Cottingham

Recently Published

Homegoing

And what if dying is like
that time I got out of school early
because I had an appointment
and I pushed open the heavy doors
and[read more]

THREE AUTUMNAL SONGS

1. DARK

the moon is keeping watch
bolted onto the nightfall sky
wind carries the clouds
delicately past
like gray fragments torn away
by our brooding.

2. CLEAR

the clouds fall toward the[read more]

If

If you separate sand from glitter
If you separate gray by days of the week
If you separate life into coins and cookies
If you take a cookie[read more]

Shucks Among Aging Partners

Shucks Among Aging Partners

“Shucks! You shouldn’t have.” “I didn’t. I have no idea who sent ‘em.” “Jeepers! You really don’t care anymore.” “Of course, I do. I keep putting down the toilet lid.” “Gee, Willikers! That’s only been forty years in coming.” “Well, you still fart in your sleep.” “Son of a biscuit, how would you know?” “Haven’t been sleeping too well.” “Sweet Patootie! Why didn’t you tell me?” “Most times, you don’t give a flying fig.” “Not true. I care! I really care!” “Balderdash! You took away my ice cream and my sandwich cookies.” “I’d like you to live a little longer, for heaven’s[read more]
Where Harry's Buried

Where Harry's Buried

As the two women approached the cemetery, June said, "Hey, this sign here says No Trespassing, No Digging, No Rubbers. It looks like, around here, rubbers are banned from cemeteries." “I know lots of guys who’ve left rubbers in cemeteries. Don’t worry about it.” Janette said. Looking at her, June said, "I'm pretty sure that’s not what the sign means." Unfazed, Janette responded, "Well, it might. I’ve spent a lot of time with guys in cemeteries.” Changing subjects, she continued, “Look, we'd better hurry, be careful and don’t fall. You brought the folding shovel,[read more]
Omen

Omen

Bizarre! The dream woke him up with a start. Such a dream will wake up any guy! A shudder passed through him. Dead of night—the howl of a stray dog added to the uneasiness. Was it a premonition? The Grim Reaper stared malevolently; neon sign lit up the urgent message on the billboard, at the interstate highway, his car waiting at the traffic signal, in New Delhi’s tri-junction at the Connaught Place: Last one hour left! Hurry up, before it is too late! The stockbroker felt an eerie sensation, a chill. Such a portent in dreamy[read more]