ALAS

September 12, 2018

straight and true i grew reaching for the sky

then november of 2016 twisted me awry

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A DAY IN SEPTEMBER

September 11, 2018

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SUNBATHING

September 10, 2018

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BIG MARTHA

September 9, 2018

she takes no guff from her buds

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THE QUEEN’S GARDEN

September 8, 2018

from the story, ZOM FALBU

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THE MYSTERY CELEBRITY KWIZ ANSWER

September 7, 2018

Little Edith Piaf grew up to become a sparrow.

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THE MYSTERY CELEBRITY KWIZ

September 6, 2018

This little girl grew up to become:

a. a nuclear physicist

b. a Pulitzer Prize winning novelist.

c. a sparrow.

d. a queen.

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THE GIRL WITH THE COME HITHER LIMP

September 5, 2018

the girl with the come hither limp

survived on a diet of shrimp

her breath melted steel

so after each meal

she escaped on a runaway blimp

 

 

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GOAL

September 4, 2018

The creature’s goal is to dismantle everything hindering its greed.

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THE TWILIGHT BLOOMS

September 3, 2018

“Only eight casks today, Mad Marge,” said the burly sweep, and he dragged the last cask into into the hovel.

Mad Marge shot a quick glance of hatred at the sweep, then turned to her task. Her daily task. Her endless task. Her mind numbing boring task. She opened the first cask, plucked out a diamond and began to polish it with the Cloth of Gold. For she was the Polisher of the Royal Jewels. Each morning some eight or ten or fifteen casks of jewels were hauled to her hovel, where she spent all the day long and halfway into the night polishing them.

After the sweep went off, Mad Marge muttered, “Relief, relief. How May I find relief?”

“It is quite simple,” said a scratchy but pleasant voice.

“Who’s there?” said Mad Marge, looking up. “Oh, only you. Go away. Leave me alone.”

The friendly witch, for it was the friendly witch, stood in the hovel’s doorway. Her name was Balka. Famed for friendliness because she always asked what sort of frog her victims would like to be transformed into, otherwise she sat in the woods combing snarls from her ever snarled hair.

“If you pluck a cluster of twilight blossoms, you will be delivered from your present situation into one more restful,” said Balka.

“Let me guess. Find the twilight blossoms, eat them, and I will be transformed into my favorite sort of frog. Right?” said Mad Marge.

“True. Give it some thought,” said Balka, and so saying, she disappeared.

Mad Marge gave it some thought, several snorts, and a few violent polishes on a ruby. Then she froze and thought Why not? Anything is better than this.

She threw the Cloth of Gold against the wall, left the hovel and headed straight for the wood. She marched to Balka’s hut, where she found the witch combing snarls out of her snarled hair.

“Well, where is it then, this twilight blossom cluster? Tell me,” she demanded.

Balka pointed with her comb at a bush. “Under there, but you have to wait for twilight.”

Mad Marge crawled under the bush and stared impatiently at a cluster of tight buds. At twilight, they bloomed. Mad Marge tore them from the earth and ate them. She was a luminous blue tree frog on the limb of a tree beside a stream. She was very happy.

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