The CSS Awards - Site of the Day


Christopher Willard

In his hand a frond,

the naked magician has

another leaf palmed.


Her English, with men,

being Spanish, was broken,

much like her hymen.



said to describe feces,

was not just facetious.


“Ye piss in a pot,”

wisely said the old sot,

“when it’s all ye got.”


Uvula, to hunt

rhymes: viola, La Scala,

but with vulva, can’t.


Those most oft mated

find love’s motive in a word:



She played, while kneeled,

the tuba badly, and to

compensate, the field.


A mouse is less cute

with neck in a snapper and

its squeaker gone mute.


Pretty, are women

the morning after wedding

days, reptilian.


Men spend many hours

trying to obtain women

who are at most, whores.


E-Harmony catch:

male, bachelor, arsonist

seeking a good match.


Livorno’s Foghorn,

I say, I say, from what

was once called Leghorn.


State we won the war

in 1782

to quell a Brit bore.


Tonight’s “Fancy Free”

performance cancelled due to

rampant leprosy.


Harry’s Maine ‘stuttah’

was grave, so when asked his name

he replied, “Ha-Ha…”


Ass as in assass-

inate, not as one might ass-

ociate en masse.


John Adams, US

second president not, you

foo, Grizzly Adams.


By his knotty pine

door the priest prays that a whore

will knock: naughty pine.


Is LSD a

drug condoned in a valid



In such a whorehouse,

beauty, kept in a warehouse,

became a warhorse.


The granddad would curse

the hirsute miss, daily, still

bearded at his hearse.


Orbiting stipple,

planet in Greek: wanderer,

a small third nipple.


Calling Adam-12

woman choking on large shoe

corner of Fifth and Elm.


As if by fiat,

the obese cram into their

mouths dough fried in fat.


One can hardly use


cally in haikus.


Thankfully your dress

is the epitome of



Dear, ask chipmunks what’s

their trick, so you can learn, to

stop gagging on nuts.


Ducks Huey, Dewey,

and Louie in bright colors

of Cimabue




Oh, ho ho ho ho

ho ho ho ho ho ho ho

ho ho ho ho, Oh!


To teach the oboe

the master crooks the elbow

and students obey.








Christopher Willard is the author of the novel Sundre (Vehicule Press/Esplanade, 2009) and Garbage Head (Vehicule Press/Esplanade, 2005). His fiction and poetry have been published in Salon, Third Wednesday, Ranfurly Review, Ars Medica, Ukula,Decameron, Coffee House Press, Broken Pencil, Sobriquet, and in the anthologies Can’t Lit: Fearless Fiction and Double Lives, Reinventing & Those We Left Behind.   He currently lives in Calgary where he teaches at the Alberta College of Art + Design.
A perfectly healthy sentence, it is true, is extremely rare. For the most part we miss the hue and fragrance of the thought; as if we could be satisfied with the dews of the morning or evening without their colors, or the heavens without their azure. - Henry David Thoreau


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