Comparative Monstrosity Baba Yaga’s a hideous witch. Baked baby’s her favorite dish. One of her legs is bare bone. She lives in a fey mobile home: A hut that on chicken legs walks As the children of Russia she stalks. Even worse, she can take to the sky In a pestle that’s able to fly.
Avram was terrified when the light and the noise burst out of the night sky. He was eight years old, and his uncle Samael had taken him along for the first time to tend the sheep for a full night’s watch in the hills above Bethlehem. Avram had been helping to look after the family’s
-with a nod to Joyce Kilmer I think that I shall never see A man as muddled up as me. Too many must-dos drive me nuts. I need to cut out ifs and buts And clear my mind so I can see The forest rather than the trees.
“A writer is not different from a reader, in that the common ragbag of orthodoxies and assumptions is what the poet has to work with as well.” – Seamus Heaney
Live each day as if it’s your last. If it isn’t, what a nice surprise!
When I was a small boy, I was a little confused about December 25th. I knew it was the birthday of Baby Jesus, and because he got presents, I got presents too, even though my birthday was in September. I thought it was very nice of Baby Jesus to make Santa Claus give me presents
Now as at all times I can see in the mind’s eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear in the blue depths of the sky With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones, And all their helms of silver hovering side by side, And all their eyes still fixed,