Moby-Dick

Oh, so much effort for one shiny coin
The mariners about the Pequod must
Have thought, as watching Ahab bust a groin
And other parts, to spume if not to dust
In chasing his white whale. I make it sound
Exciting, quite a thrilling quest; alas
'Tis buried deep within the book, all bound
Up in a hipster's egotism. Blast!
The captain lost his leg once to a beast
His questing for revenge led him to parts
Far-flung and not well-known. Ah me. At least
I read it on my Kindle, strained no hearts
A-hauling it around, this Moby-Dick.
At last I'm done; now give me something, quick!

In Which I Confess Something, Podners

Wyoming's been my home, yet I've eschewed
Its native genre, Westerns, overall.
Comes time now to adjust my attitude,
For as you know, I've a new project, y'all.
Weird western writing with a friend across'd
Th'Atlantic! So perhaps it's best to add
Some westerns to my reading list. I've lost
My count of what I've planned so far. Too bad!
Zane Grey's entire ouvre safely dwells
Within my Kindle now, and hey, I did
Take up the challenge of one hundred books
In this fine year, and must do as I'm bid.
So giddayap, and lose those silly looks.
I'm drawing and I'm reading western stuff,
But still avoiding rodeos. Enough!

In Which I Make A New Old Russian Friend

My new year's starting off a bit surreal
As I begin a new book that I've had
In my "to-read" pile for long months. I feel
No shame in this delay; indeed, I'm glad
To make this part of this new challenge: to
Devour one hundred books in this next year.
Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky, you're a new
Acquaintance, and already dear!
Your stories, like Pelevin's, make the world,
Though dreary 'neath a bad regime, to shine
With strangeness. I can't wait until I'm curled
Again on my settee with you! A fine
And gently weird, unsettling evening
Right now seems, to me, to be just the thing!