THE TIGHT EYES
the tight eyes of the braided rope
haunt –
the spiral cord, engorged, continues to dine,
methodically chomping –
the pain of spillage is bloody
but neatly defined –
i remember the tractor fondly
when
i tap my sleeping foot against the gleaming radiator –
monstrous my owl –
harpsichord lost
in the dunes
FALL FALLEN
THE TAME GIRAFFE
It had been a busy holiday, exhausting really, but nevertheless, the tame giraffe polished with vigor while humming a tune his chloroform kit. Oh, hadn’t it made for a most splendidly marvelous day. What a pleasure it had been for the tame giraffe to make use of his taxidermy skills on such a number and variety of carolers. There was no denying it. The tame giraffe radiated a giddy joy.
“And now,” he sang, “I’m going to get blind drunk. I deserve it, tra la la.”
And he did get blind drunk, and I suppose he deserved it after some twenty hours of non-stop taxidermy.
A SENTENCE BY CLEMENT MOORE
CARTOON FRIDAY 82
HAUNTED GLADE
The loon has to pass through this haunted glade whenever he visits the loon princeling. In the past he has been obliged to fight off wolfmen, wolfwomen, assorted witches, a variety of hellhounds, an angry sasquatch, a shapeless hulk with very bad breath, an invisible laugher, some door-to-door salesmen ghosts, and, scariest of all, a host of knife-wielding shrieking wild-eyed matrons.
CANDY RACE
children
a piece of candy
Rudyard Kipling
When the starter fires his pistol, who will win the race to the piece of candy? Will it be Rudyard Kipling at his healthiest, or will it be the small group of children brought from the slums of London especially for this event?










