the cows are lowing again
cookie dough spilling from each end
their udders remain virginal
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
the cows are lowing again
cookie dough spilling from each end
their udders remain virginal
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
Wrinklies patients may arrange forgotten the operation, and machiavellian scars are undoubtedly overlooked in the shadowy examination room.
— MitchCheduby
Sure, darkened rooms are the current worldwide trend in the beauty industry. Not only wrinkles and scars can be fixed, but also unwanted birthmarks, crossed eyes, overbites and underbites. Nothing’s impossible. Just one flick of a switch and anyone will look young and beautiful!
— Tati & Tony (Advocates of Natural Beauty and Looking for Black Cats in a Dark Room)
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
they walk around the room cuddling a dead hare
smearing the floor with stale syrupy gold
they cry out loud that awakening is here
exactly as beuys has foretold
i lie on the floor trying not to sleep
but the damned gold flashes before my eyes
here i balance over the greasy steep
falling through the creaky rickety skies
and i see in my dream how a huge dead hare
cuddles me to its soft warm belly
runs its paws over my messy hair
treats me to marmite and orange jelly
the hare whispers of shoes and sealing wax
of shooting stars over the seashore
that a worldview’s a matter of parallax
…i wake up to the sound of a slammed door

TONY: You have the most fascinating brain I’ve ever had the privilege to encounter.
TATI: Nice start, Tony. Go on.
TONY: Erm…
TATI: How’s your head, by the way? It wasn’t a concussion, I hope?
TONY: The doctor said you hadn’t hit me that hard after all, and that I should stop being a whimpersome girly-boy.
TATI: Good boy. All you need to do is wise up and don’t repeat that painful experience from our previous discussion. There is a reason we discarded it, after all.
TONY: So now we’re having an entirely new discussion for the purposes of this post. Oh yeah, I totally get it now.
TATI: Let’s go then.
TONY: Erm. Well. I wanted to discuss a particular poem with you.
TATI: What poem?
TONY: It’s called ‘how to explain life to a live girl’.
TATI: I remember this one. Do you hesitate to call it ‘poetry’?
TONY: Oh, no, I definitely think it’s poetry. It’s just that… well, a dead hare?
TATI: Yes, hares die sometimes. Sad, but true.
TONY: Well, sure, but what is the poem about? It seems to be about a dead hare, some strange yellow substance that could be honey or gold paint, and some dude called Beuys.
TATI: Do you know who this is, Tony?
TONY: Is it a ‘Harry Potter’ character?
TATI: Are you serious?!
TONY: No? From ‘Hunger Games’ then.
TATI: I don’t think the poet should have to explain to the reader each and every reference.
TONY: ’50 Shades of Grey’?
TATI: Yuck! If you, the reader, really cared then you could have dived into the poem to understand what the author wanted to say here or there. You could have educated yourself.
TONY: There are too many books in those series. You expect me to read all of them?
TATI: If you don’t understand something, you need to google it or at the very least try to think of your own interpretation. Don’t you have an imagination?
TONY: Maybe It’s a recipe for honey-roasted bunnies. Maybe that’s what you wrote.
TATI: That is one interpretation, I suppose. It isn’t necessary for it to be the same as what the author implied.
TONY: So, I’m wrong?
TATI: Don’t you know anything about the magic of poetry?! You are not meant to make a school book report from it, and you don’t ask the author to explain each and every detail to you!
TONY: Why not?
TATI: If James Joyce had tried to explain ‘Ulysses’ to each and every idiot, would the novel have been listed in the Bokklubben World Library amongst its one hundred best books ever? I bet no. They would have dismissed him as another graphomaniac who wastes valuable paper instead of increasing the GDP of Ireland!
TONY: But nobody understands that book! Are you saying that in order to write greatness that whatever one writes must be completely incomprehensible? I expect you’ll be awarded the Booker Prize any day then!
TATI: Seriously, Tony, I am not going to sit here and explain to you who Beuys is. Nor will I explain about his performance ‘How to Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare’ and other shit. And you should be saying thank you to me because I am doing you a huge favour! I’m giving you a chance to grow and educate yourself!
TONY: True. Sounds like it was boring and pretentious.
TATI: Cool. Then I propose to go back to what we were doing before you started this discussion. You can nap and play video games, and I will sit here and continue to read this idiotic book.
TONY: ‘Ulysses’?!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
Talking about chestnut cramp is obstinate, whether with forebears, friends, co-workers, or physicians.
— LukjanAmece
We agree. No one cares about chestnut cramps, birch dyspepsia and spruce anarthria. More compassion is needed in such a cruel, heartless world!
— Tati & Tony (Two Newbie Arborists with PhDs in Advanced Banter)
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
Remarkably, when Ellen awoke the next morning, she was sensation somewhat happier, but her mammy insisted they safeguard their appointment. Ingest crucifer and kale, likewise as condiment green and vegetable.
— EinarMult
Dear Einar,
We know this story pretty well. It was in all the evening papers just a few short years ago. It’s such a sad story too, although some would label it a ‘cautionary tale’ featuring cannibals.
As we all now know, Ellen was a very sick little girl. Like… sick in the head. She was undergoing aggressive medical therapy. It has been well established by experts in the field that she was a sociopath who was against the slaughter and consumption of fruits and vegetables. The mere thought of these doomed innocents would plunge Ellen into depression for weeks on end. Imagine the poor girl’s feelings when her mammy repeatedly forced her to, as you so quaintly put it, “Ingest crucifer and kale, likewise as condiment green and vegetable.” It would have been a nightmare!
So, is it any wonder that she finally cracked, and bludgeoned her sweet mammy to death with the business end of a colander? Yup, she even made her dead mammy wear it as a hat, and sat her in ‘time out’ to have a long, hard think about what she’d been doing to helpless plant life for all those years. And when it seemed as though her mammy hadn’t learned her lesson at all, Ellen simply et her.
And when Ellen awoke the next morning, she was sensation completely happy, despite waking up in a madhouse. A cautionary tale indeed!
— Tati & Tony (Two Nuts Who are Desperate to Find Inspiration for Yet Another Brilliantly Silly Story Even in Spam)
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020