The dead don’t walk. All you have heard of that is Spook-chat and scare-talk. The dead are dead, and dead they’ll stay. The heroes in the greenwood, the king of once and future time, Arthur and Coeur de Lyon, bold Robin Hood: all gone away. God’s dead to Mary, but still in her mind a
Bumps In The Night It was Halloween in the little town of Wayne Bridge, New Hampshire. Spiderman; The Wicked Witch of the West; Dracula wearing a cape, with plastic fangs in his mouth; The Grim Reaper in a hooded black robe and a very realistic skull mask, carrying a sickle; Wonder Woman; and Batman were
I’m old enough by now to see That all the things I thought I knew Weren’t as sure as they seemed to be, And several degrees away from true.
He’s gotten good at sleeping. When the big sleep comes, he’ll be well-rehearsed.
Indian summer afternoon. The maple leaves’ defiant blazing
The Greatest Man In The World felt a touch of indigestion just before going to bed, probably because the five pizza toppings he’d eaten for supper had included pepperoni and jalapeno peppers. So he took four Dulcolax pills washed down with prune juice, and sat on the golden throne in the bathroom of his suite
Queen Elizabeth Two Is much richer than you. She’s ninety-five years old And invented the dorgi, or so I’m told. Note: a dorgi is a corgi-dachsund cross
Work on ignorance Till you know nothing at all Is always certain.
There’s an attic room inside my mind For all the things I wish undone And all the ways I’ve been unkind And fights I should not have begun. I enter it from time to time And let my angry ghosts complain About my life of thoughtless crime And then I lock it up again.
Michael Richard Pence Will re-enter current events When The Donald goes to jail And Mike won’t pay his bail