All Over the Place: In the Morning It Will Still Be OK

By Michael H. Brownstein

[Originally published in the now-defunct “zine” Message in a Bottle.]








This is not who I love. This is not what I love.
Love is a god-stone, thick and sometimes valuable,
strong-wristed, one arc of a finger
stretching.

Poetry & Portraits: San Francisco

Drawing by Susan C. Price

San Francisco
By Eric Meub

[Originally published on February 10, 2018]

She was an athlete, finely tuned.
How fat with pastries she ballooned:
a courtesan to raise an itch
upon the impotently rich.

Moristotelians All

Aristotle: marble copy of bronze bust
by Lysippus, Louvre Museum

To think we were here the whole time!

By Moristotle

I had a Goines moment a few days ago, when it hit me for the very first time that the term “Aristotelian” that accompanies the name Aristotle naturally gives us “Moristotelian” to accompany Aristotle’s spiritual descendant Moristotle. I so surprised and excited myself that I ran the term by the staff, asking them:

BODY COUNT: Killers (a novel): 9. Hometown Killer

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Though Taylor was still a little pissed at Blake as he walked the few feet to his slightly smaller office, he knew it was his own fault. He should have waited until they were alone and not forced Blake to demonstrate that he was in charge. It was a stupid mistake, and, as Blake said, Taylor had paid for it.
    He pulled out his desk chair, sat down, put his feet up, and then opened the folder Blake had handed him.

Highways and Byways: The Night My Sister Was Born

By Maik Strosahl

Unlike “Irises across the Floor,” this one draws more from experience. My grandfather, I am told, was a very active person before I was born, but he was also in a lot of pain. He decided at some point he would do everything he wanted to do (hunting, fishing, bowling, etc.) in the year after he retired. After that, he spent the rest of his life sitting in his chair, drinking his Jim Beam and chain-smoking in front of the television. I was born about the same time he retired, so all I knew of him was the drunk who sometimes was funny, but many times was mean. I loved the man who called me “Michelle,” but wish there was more depth to our relationship and memories.

Commander in Cheat

Rick Reilly

By Mulligans Not

Rick Reilly wrote a wonderful book with the above title, and the subtitle How Golf Explains Trump. Golf is a very unusual sport in that the player is alone much of the time and is expected to enforce the rules on himself. While there are some referees in professional golf, there are far fewer than the number of groups on the course. Serious golfers take the rules seriously, although I suspect most golfers don’t. Mulligans are common.

West Coast Observer: Game Over

Remembering Ernest Thayer’s 1888 baseball poem

By William Silveira

How timely now is the last stanza of “Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in the Year 1888”!:

All Over the Place: Ash

By Michael H. Brownstein

[Originally published in the now-defunct “zine” Message in a Bottle.]




Dirty grey-white scuttles of gush,
Early small piles of pollen,
Reptilians in dry cleaner suits

Yesterday fire burst free from the breasts of two robins,
A rush of red sparkled across the feathers of a lone cardinal
And a beetle took its first tentative steps across concrete.

BODY COUNT: Killers (a novel): Chapter 8. The Preacher Killings

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Blake returned to HQ at 7:30 the next morning, hoping to have 30 minutes to get things lined up. But that was not to be; his three new recruits were waiting in the parking lot.
    Wayne greeted him, “Good morning, boss. We’re ready to go to work.” Blake guessed Wayne spoke because he was the oldest.
    “Okay, glad to see you three are early birds. Can I expect this every morning, or is this a first-day special?”

Woes of Biden Harris Plumbing

By Moristotle

There was a Trumper by name of Biden Harris;
Dad had named him Junior the more to widen parous.

BODY COUNT: Killers (a novel): Chapter 7. Dead End

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Once back in his office, Blake closed the file on the June Killer. He had to face the fact that until the killer struck again there wasn’t much hope of catching him. His research team would be busy gathering pieces of the puzzle and, hopefully, by the following June, they’d have a picture as to how he operated. In the meantime, Blake’s new ground troops could start on the other murders that Peter’s computer had discovered looked like serial killings.
    Overall, his day hadn’t gone that badly. Getting clearance for his off-the-books operative had been the real worry, and it turned out fine. Now it was time to put the team together and get to work. He sent a text to everybody that there would be a meeting at 8:30 in the morning.

Highways and Byways: These Divided Highways

By Maik Strosahl

On a recent family road trip, I got to thinking about the things that divide us, leading us so far apart that we forget, the same roads that take us away from each other can bring us back together.


Somewhere left,
somewhere right
and the miles have multiplied
our differences,
our distances until
you could go no farther,
I could see no further,
turning back
down these
highways and byways
that led us astray
but keep bringing us around,
somewhere right,
somewhere left

Copyright © 2020 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He also dabbles in short fiction and may be onto some ideas for a novel. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there. In September 2020, he started the blog “Disturbing the Pond.”

West Coast Observer: Election Day

By William Silveira

I recommend that all readers of Moristotle & Co. read the Sunday Review in the New York Times for November 1 [October 30 on the internet:“What have we lost?”]. Fifteen of the Times columnists explain “what the past four years have cost America and what’s at stake in this election.” It’s a sobering analysis and will ring true regardless of today’s election results:

BODY COUNT: Killers (a novel): Chapter 6. The Expansion

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The next morning, Taylor and Bob were driving out as Blake pulled into the parking lot. They waved and went on about their business.
    Blake planned to go to Germantown and confront the homicide captain, but first there was the matter of the new case Peter had uncovered and a meeting with the potential foot soldiers for the team. Then there was the lack of server space for Peter. Blake would have to find time to sit down with June Warner – it would be easy to get more space, but he knew she’d want a report and that would eat up time. Plus, he had one other thing he wanted to discuss with her.

All Over the Place: Physics with My Upper Grade Students

By Michael H. Brownstein

Roller-skating and physics. They go together like peanut butter and bananas. Like hot dogs and grilled onions.
    I put the skates on after lunch. Huh, what’s going on? What’s Mr. Brownstein up to now? What’s he doin’? Mr. Brownstein, the mad scientist. The buzz alone was worthwhile by itself. Why the skates? my students asked.
    Physics, I answered.
    And we had a physics lesson and I had a workout.