Archives for posts with tag: Russiagate

Jeff Beauregard Sessions, whatever he thought,
Disavows rememberance of things past.
He is insulted by accusations and distraught
That erstwhile colleagues think his claims a waste.
Selma’s colored fountains are no more.
While every hash is tagged with healing rights,
The South may rise again, or sip in woe
And moan the insult of many a darkened sight:
Thus he swivels neck at meetings unrecalled
With forgotten Russian type at the Mayflower,
Citing decades’ policies long installed
In justificatory — or exculpatory — power.
But if the while he starts to think on Trump,
He sips once more, and tastes a brackish swamp.

Goodnight Comey

Good night President who doesn’t think.

Good night Navy stewards with food and drink.

Good night door and grandfather clock.

Good night Lawfare’s nonpartisan shock.

Good night, big hooks of Rus.

Good night, Comey hearing fuss.

Good night, director (ex) of FBI.

Good night, Ivanka’s madeup sigh.

Good night, coffee.

Good night, tea.

Good night, honest loyalty.