Punk Monk Press/Magazine

What’s a metaphor for making beautiful   things which can’t everyone see   that’s beautiful and also   everything that’s beautifully transpired     and sometimes it seems there’s so much time   and at others just like look up at Saturn   referring to you putting your bare feet   into the sand the moment the elevator rattles     and wakes you so what if I were actually free   and gave it all up and retired I know   retired from what and no one was screaming   or demanding something I don’t have to give     and I were somewhere where you become   hyperbolic in the face of a crumbling   constitution and a dissolving symbolic and say   I’m just a beatnik, I’ve always been a beatnik.   -- Matthew Freeman

Mange. The latest treatments, pills, shampoos. That’s what this article is about. On the next page. In this dog magazine. Okay, okay. I confess. I watch a lot of dog videos. On YouTube. I do. And I’ve seen those mange videos. Dogs rescued from the street. Their skin. Gray as granite with mange. Poor hairless doggies. So sad. So painful. Not my favorite videos. Too, too sad. But transformation videos? Love them! Can’t get enough of them. Neglected dogs covered in mats. Dogs that look like haystacks with paws. No eyes. No nose. No face. No kidding. Just moving mounds of fur. Ropes of hairy mats trailing behind them. Aliens on earth. That’s what they look like. But then, but then. Someone rescues them. Takes them to a groomer. And they’re transformed. Free to be the beautiful dogs they were meant to be. This. This I can relate to. Because, because. I was transformed. Ten years ago. Not that I had mange. Or tons of mats. (Horrors!) But I had hair. And lots of it. Long, silky, waist-length

Dear Gen X, Did You Know All Rainwater is now Unfit for Human Consumption?   Generation Z are doomed to be the first generation of Americans who will grow up with a lower standard of living than their parents enjoyed…The party’s over, folks.   --Hunter S. Thompson, 2001     I’m glad you had non-stick frypans   I’m glad you had Aqua Net and aerosol cans and abortion access    white pleather couches, popcorn ceilings, vinyl flooring   I’m glad you had what you wanted               I understand wanting   I understand that you watched your parents get Woodstock, free college, and picket fences   I understand that you felt owed something               so you took    Tell me again about your first (or second, or third, or fourth) car               about $1.18/gal gasoline   Tell me again about those road trips you took in college   Bring out the old photo album, put the kettle on    Please, just stay for a few more minutes               and—please—leave the lights on when you go   -- Max Gil