Butterfly Pig
by Ted L Glines

Ah, the strange and elusive
butterfly pig flapping
flapping swooping gliding
but where
we said
where dost fly that butterfly pig?
we searched the piney woods
the hidden mountain valleys
we searched the whole world over
but have not found
that cleverly hidden nest
of the mysterious
butterfly pig
but we will find it
mark my words
we will ne'er give up
this quest
(you think me obsessed)
for the hiding butterfly pig
for we have proof
beyond all shades of doubt
the butterfly pig exists
what proof you ask
you doubting thomas
but I will make you
eat your doubting words
for what do you see
right here
upon my kitchen counter
right there sitting on my counter
displayed so openly
see this package
all the proof you need
what does the label say?
read it you unbeliever
smirking lurking unbeliever
read that label and weep
for it plainly says
“Butterfly Pork Chops!”

Camille
by Ted L Glines

Lady of the Camellias
ailing  lovely courtesan - blue lady - weeping in the wind
dukes and counts paid for her
yet she loved Armand - a commoner - for free.

oh the heartsick pathos of her love
forever doomed to crave what cannot be.

torn  between her "proper" place and mellow love
her heart loved Armand - her "station" said no
ever trapped in a rain of loss and tears.

Camille's lovers wore the purple
at the gilded hearth of the elite,
meanwhile her hopeful common lover
embraced his dreams - intuition saying no,
lost - a mournful whistle in a tuneless disarray,
last scene - Armand threw jealous cash at her,
insulted vengeful love - showing he could pay,
a wreath of camellias - sadly wilting now
signs her curtain call in memory to this day.

Author's Notes: "Lady  of the Camellias," a  joyful/sad work by Alexandre Dumas (the younger) , spun the tale of a French courtesan who was loved by  dukes and counts, but who loved a commoner, Armand.  She was made to promise not to see Armand for reasons of protecting him and his  sister's reputations. Armand was devastated, and her promise was  impossible. She was dying of tuberculosis and from the poison of an ill fated love. Fortune was  not kind to her. The Dumas play was later poorly imitated in "Moulin Rouge."

Bugs
by Ted L Glines

East Texas is famous for one thing. Yes it is. I guess every place has something it is known for. Like Southern California and its earthquakes, or Wisconsin for its cheese, and Alaska for its ice and polar bears.

This area of East Texas is aptly called the "Piney Woods," and you'd see why if you looked down on it from an airplane. It is one huge forest of (mostly) pine trees, with freeways and roads zipping  through it like fire trails, and farms and ranches and towns in clearings. Now  these pine trees are not like the pine trees in Oregon. No, these pine trees, by  studied comparison, are mere bushes, wimpy dwarf trees, only 30 or 40 feet tall.  Because of the vast forest exuding moisture, it rains a lot here, and the ground in the forest runs from damp to mushy, with scads of little fishing holes everywhere. And it is very warm here, and humid. It is because of all this warmth and humidity and wetness that this area is remarkably famous ...  for its never ending array of bugs.

You never saw so many  different kinds of bugs in your life; walking, crawling, hopping, skittering under things, swimming,  flying, and they are everywhere. East Texas is a regular treasure trove for a  bug scientist. There must be a zillion kinds of beetles out here; short, tall, long, thin, fat, beautiful with exotic colors, just plain pug-ugly, and  some of the dratted things fly (though you note they must be blind because they splat  right into your head) . Spiders? Yup, we got tons of them, and most of them have attitudes. Get bit by a brown recluse spider and you'll wish you'd been somewhere else that day. Just last week a lady from Texarkana had a  baseball-sized hunk of necrotic fat tissue removed from her butt, having been bit by a brown recluse (it is really best not to sit on them). There is another  spider which must be an idiot, and the locals have wrongly named him a "wolf spider." He looks a little like a small and skinny tarantula, and he acts like he's been reading too many Godzilla comic books. This mentally challenged wolf spider will  hear you walking up on him, and he will turn and face you, and then (like a tiny Napoleon) he will make little dashes at you. These little dashes usually end up in "squish," but they never learn. And, like the beetles, the  spiders are everywhere. Out in the  forest, you even find trees which are chock full of webbing and  spider's nests. Did I mention scorpions and ants? We have the  infamous "fire ant," which has been known to kill small cows. We  do have Boy Scout troops here, and they have many activities,  but it is notable that their list of outings does not include  camping in the woods.

Being  Texans, these gentle people deal with the vast proliferation of bugs in an interesting manner. By and large, they ignore the bugs (while trying to keep them out of the soup). And, if company is present, you might hear the hostess exclaim swattingly, "Now, where did all these flies come from?" Tsk,  tsk.

And those bug sprays you buy at Wal-Mart ... they don't work. The  bugs drink that stuff like milkshakes and skitter away looking for more. I work in a hotel and a lady  guest from the east coast told me (seeming to be horrified) that she had seen a bug in her room. I tried to look shocked but it slipped right out of my mouth, "Welcome to East Texas!"

Gosh, it's nice to be famous for something ...