TENDER BUCKET
my heart a tender bucket in thrall to the moon and its petals my soul a golden sieve processing life ore in the factory
my heart a tender bucket in thrall to the moon and its petals my soul a golden sieve processing life ore in the factory
Loon: A woman’s ghost named Mary Shelley from some previous time has been brought to us by the Lords of the 4th Dimension to undergo the Three Question Interview. As a ghost of yore, Mistress Mary, aren’t you envious when you see how the stoves of today with burners and ovens are so much easier […]
Oddly enough, such behavior is not uncommon among assistant producers.
Mr. and Mrs. de Winter are alarmed that: a. Godzilla is rising from the depths before their very eyes. b. Alfred Hitchcock’s still writhing lunch is being carried onto the set. c. three long lines of madly grinning men with green hands are filing in. d. a mentally unbalanced assistant producer is dancing about weeping […]
When Deems Strobing walked to the end of the pier, he expected to look down and see water. The shock he received was as if a bowl of lightning had been flung in his face. For it happened that upon looking down, he saw a sea of sand. Dry sand. Desert sand. ‘No! It can’t […]
heaven’s comb has many teeth it also rides a harley it roars across the rainbow heath and dines on oats and barley