Working in the kitchen,
“Ragamuffin Roots Restaurant”
Radio Reggae lyrics knock me out.
Singer throws down rhymes;
“In Buckingham palace,
we’re burning the chalice
with out any malice.”
What nonsense.
And all I can can do
is keep deep-fat fryin’
for the Lion of Zion.

by-Doug Mathewson

Things have changed over the years in Riverdale. You’d have to say they changed only to become more the same if you know what I mean. Pop’s Malt Shop is gone. That whole block is. Walmarts’ there now. Archie works there, Moose too (but I didn’t see him). Archie’s folks passed on years ago but he is still in the old house. Married now with kids! He married Eunice Nugyen. You wouldn’t remember her; she was so quiet she never turned up in the comics. They have the cutest kids. Two little girls with mom’s looks and that red hair of Archie’s. And Jughead, that poor kid. Seems he can never catch a break. Back in rehab again. Court order this time.
The girls are okay I guess. Betty married right out of high school. Said “I do” to the first kid joining the service and that was her ticket out of town. Lives some place in the Carolinas. Got kids. Doesn’t come back. Veronica’s out west. California some place. Santa Clara, Santa Barbara, Santa something. She sold off the old place. Sold everything I guess. There’s a story for you. Reggie is in real estate. He sold all the land and Mr. Lodge’s buildings downtown, the bank, everything, then worked a deal to donate the old house to Hospice so the taxes were a wash.
Reggie has done alright. He has a Mercedes and lives in the new condos they put up on the back side of the old Lodge estate by the lake. He’s had a few  roommates, but they’re all been city boys who leave for the big lights.
Oh greezes! I almost forgot! So at the High School there is this plaque. Big bronze thing in the court yard (part of the new addition). So I read it and it’s all generous this and grateful that, and then I understand what it means! Remember old Mr. Svenson and Miss Bleazley from the cafeteria? Well get this they were aliens! How would you know? Well, whoever was in charge on their planet said no to extending their study grant for another hundred years, so they said their goodbyes and then donated the new gym and the whole West Wing! Well, that part’s different I guess.

by-Doug Mathewson

From my kingdom I have a perfect view of Emily Dickinson’s house.
My kingdom is five feet long and chained to a mysteriously green pipe with brass fittings. On one end is “The Lone Wolf Cafe.” Five feet away at the other end is “The Black Sheep Bakery.” Either end smells delicious, mid-bench the irony is tasty. Local Universities has recessed till fall, the streets are student free and quiet.
Until my bus arrives the royal agenda is to drink ginger tea and read poetry. The dollar anthology I bought with no cover includes playful poem of love by Matthew Dickman who has written the line;
“Your ass is like the shopping mall at Christmas.”
I spill my tea!
I laugh aloud (recalling a memory so sweet).
Oh Emily, oh Emily, how can I explain.

by-Doug Mathewson

Issue #16 of “Button” has just arrived courtesy of editor/publisher Sally Cragin.

The format is bigger, which is too bad, but the content remains odd and interesting.

The issues theme is communication and it has a lot of vintage telephone stories.

Well worth the $6.00 for three issues. Send her three forever stamps with your check!

The Valium prescribed teacher,
gazes hazily at
the Ritalin addled class.
Asleep the principal dreams of retirement.
Cafeteria ladies nip peppermint schnapps behind the dumpster.
The only janitor is on the nod, unconscious now in his mop closet.
Education is frozen in time as the drool of generations mingles.
Is the early bus late, or the late bus early? Does it matter?
Can I borrow your copy of Beowulf?

by-Doug Mathewson

Bertie started a poetry zine.
He called it “Pleasant Tymes”.
Only four submissions trickled in.
Would a name change help?
“Trans-sexual Infection” went mega!

This is written in an interesting format. Five Sentences of five words each.The publisher also insisted on a five word biography.

by-Doug Mathewson

Notes from the front……

So where has this guy been???
Well honestly I have been right here but so busy with other things. I have not been writing as much and have become more involved in other projects.
Full of Crow Press and Distribution has become my on-line home. I have been working with some very creative people the foremost of whom is the legendary
Lynn Alexander. We started Blink-Ink two years ago as a quarterly fiction fifty work mini-magazine. I am the Editor, and Lynn handles art and production. It has grown amazingly. Please visit us online to get the feel for what we do there. Our “Crow Aesthetic” if you will. I am also involved with another even smaller, even stranger publication called ”MUST.” It is an experiment in distribution, production, and creative style.
Submitting to other publications has become less of a priority, but that is a topic for another time. I do want to thank the editors who wrote me and made me write
for them. I will not list you my friends for fear of forgetting someone. You made me write when I felt I couldn’t.
Helping other writers, artists, and editors has become something I truly enjoy
whether I know anything or am helpful, who can say. I learned from a friend at
Full of Crow to strive to be as inclusive as I can rather than exclusive. A good policy in all things I feel.
Over the last year I have learned a great deal. About life, about people, and I imagine about myself. So to that end will try to update things with more diligence. And thanks for come by to say hello.

Doug Mathewson

Even at nineteen, Bavie knew “broken hearts” were just for kids.
Softly humming as she burns her cloths from last night,
flicking her light blade hand-to-hand.
Then, with a harsh sudden snicker, she whispers too loud,
“Who cares where it all splatters!”

by-Doug Mathewson

Things were already bad. Really bad, I mean even before the “Big-Mig” as the  last migration was called. People just splintered down into tinier and tinier little units. Most folks just living alone with only their phones. They might have a like minded little electric friend or two, but that was it. No more face to face. Physical contact was done. Nobody went above ground anymore what with three plagues and the air all gone. When the water went bad it was all over for Old Earth. The United Nations, Red Cross, Red Crescent and all the rest… they did their best, that’s for sure. But this business of moving better than four billion of us off planet,… who could plan for that? Like they used to say, “Humanity was scattered through the stars”.
Folks ended up some of the damnedest places. Places nobody ever heard of. Look at me and my cat Miss Priss. They put us down on a planet named “Betty”. It was a stupid joke at first, but nobody could think of anything better. On the questionnaire you checked off your favorite “Betty” and that’s the settlement you were assigned to. A lot of people were in such bad shape they chose the Betty Ford Clinic Islands to dry-out or get clean. And of course most folks were just shocked and numb; they mostly went for the comfort of the big continent divided between “Betty Boop” and “Betty White”. Kids seemed to split between Betty from the Flintstones, and Betty from Archie comics. Some liked both and couldn’t decide. They just got lumped together over at “Cartoon Betty”. There were fiery intellectual types living up in the hills at “Betty Friedan”, and a bunch of dreamy romantics along the shore at “Betty Grable”. Little places too. Places named for every “Betty” you could Google. Google was still around. They’d moved over to the Microsoft “Death Star” years ago.
Me and Priss, we went for comfort over to “Betty Crocker”. We talked about a little place downtown Betty Davis. Retro. Campy. Fun I guess, but too edgy for me and Priss said it looked like it might smell like boy cats. It’s nice here. We like it. Our Betty does get a little too comfortable sometimes. Now and then on a Friday night I slip across the border and visit “Bettie Page”.

by Doug Mathewson

Holiday Breather

This weekend we were out and about on our holiday rounds. A discount matinee would be perfect. Nothing to heavy in a movie mind you, just a romantic comedy. The film might have been a little light-weight but it had a strong cast and my wife and I weren’t looking for the sub-titled art-house provoker of deep thoughts. The lobby was cold and quiet early on Sunday. Ahead of us in line for tickets was a group of nuns. A couple of “Old-School” nuns, but mostly younger women with sensible shoes wearing gray outfits. Their matching gray hats were reminiscent of the ones worn by L.L. Cool-J. More the “Bucket Style” Kangol than the more popular Samuel L. Jackson style.
We were curious as to which film they would choose. The movie that puts two unlikely Hollywood high-grossers on the same screen via a contrived and unlikely plot? Maybe a generic Disney bland fairly tale rehash (that happens to  be royalty free in public domain)? Not likely the moronic stoner frat-party sight-gag drug reference toss away, nor the vampire robots vs scantily clad teens blood-bath beach epic.
Then we realized their obvious choice. Narnia in 3-D. Now dubbed a “Franchise” with the release of a second film. After being converted to Christianity by J.R.R. Tolkien C.S. Lewis is said to have written a different Christian theme into each volumes of “The Chronicles of Narnia.” I remembered how in the first book the death and resurrection of Aslan the lion so closely follows the story of Christ.  The other books are less clear in my memory and I can’t recall all the ins and outs of them. I remember liking Mr. Tumnus the fawn, and the swordsman mouse Reepicheap. Liking the kids?…not so much.
To me it seemed the sisters felt they were getting away with something. I liked their giddiness, and how they held their 3-D glasses. All vertically, all in the left hand as they walked in single file to the concession area. I hope the Archdiocese could at least spring for popcorn.

by-Doug Mathewson