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,
“The essence of elephant hunting is discomfort in such lavish proportions that only the wealthy can afford it.” ¬ – Beryl Markham, West With The Night Tembo, Monarch of the African forest, The grandest and wisest land creature there is, May soon go extinct unless people protest The use of his tusks in the jewelry
Every day there’s a large flock of turkeys that strut Down our driveway, conversing in gobbles and clucks. On Thanksgiving Day we eat everything but Such amiable birds. It would bring us bad luck To devour our neighbors, who mean us no harm And are handsome, to boot, with a certain odd charm To their
Many years had passed since the day the village of Hamelin lost its children. The bereft parents had more children to replace those who’d been led under the mountain by the piper in the multicolored jerkin, and those children became parents themselves. Hamelin grew from a village to a town, and prospered nicely, becoming the
Autumn’s blazon’s gone. The colors of the woods are Rust and verdgris.
THE GREEN FLASH There are about a dozen people standing and sitting in a large, high, airy room with windows on three sides. The windows are open, shaded by faded green and white striped canvas awnings. The main one overlooks a long grassy hill which ends in a natural bowl. The flat bottom of the
I take delight in flagrant oxymorons. I’m tickled when I find them popping out Of statements by officials who have gone wrong But try to plant a reasonable doubt. These bumbling authorities tell whoppers And wonder why they never are believed. The Big Lie, so they think, is the foundation Of trust between deceivers and
Flaky Foont: “Where does it all end, Mr. Natural?” Mr. Natural: “In the grave, m’boy, in the grave.” – R. Crumb
“It’s getting late, old friend,” said Death. And you are growing old.” “But I have light and warmth and breath,” I don’t yet feel the cold.” “Your skin’s too loose for you. Your hair Is white and getting thin. Release your spirit from its lair To take its final spin.” “But I’m still dancing with