Stipple Kibbin lay in his bed.
Stipple Kibbin picked at a thread.
He picked and he pecked, he pickled and pulled,
Stip mindlessly made himself a lovely hole,
Not in his sheets, not in his clothes,
But in his body ’round his patchwork soul.
Once he noticed he didn’t stop, no,
And quickly unraveled his lil pig toes.
He pulled at his thread as he happily crumbled
Till he found him self-surrounded in bundles.
Stip enjoyed this coming apart
But when he felt the tug on his heart
He turned to the rather opposite art
Of knitting, crocheting and sewing up parts.
He put himself back together again
With more pig toes and a bit bigger grin
But he didn’t stop, not there nor then,
He found more threads and stitched them in.
Life’s all threads and you just don’t know
Is this one to pull or one I should sew?
Well Stip did both and off he now goes
Traveling, raveling as he grows
Into the world from roots to crows,
From patchwork soul to lil pig toes.

If what’s at hand is not at heart
Then go discover other parts
That meet your heart upon its seat
And clap along as your heart beats.

A young, searching girl
Stepped out in the swirl,
Wind whipping her into its world.

She called herself Lie,
Wind didn’t care why
And flung her up into the sky.

It ripped, rattled, roared!
Would settle all scores!
But found itself roundly adored.

Lie went with the wind
And found more within
As she turned herself into the spin.

She went full tornado,
Her and wind are okay though,
They’re together wherever they go.

A young, searching girl
Stepped out in the swirl
And found herself happily hurled.

A young, searching girl
Stepped out in the swirl
And added her twirl to the whirl.

There seems to be confusion
On heads and how to use ’em.
I figured out a helpful fix
With two small, quicky tricks.

I grew some teeth inside my ears
To chew up rubbish volunteered
By talkers I don’t want to hear
And keep my thinker much more clear.

The other thing makes me more proud – 
I grew ears on teeth so I’m allowed
To hear my rubbish first and loud
And maybe chew and spit it out.

This may not be for everyone,
Some may not like what I have done
Or understand its spirit,
But I don’t have to hear it.

Also read about Birds, Snails, Owls, Bees, Foxes, Vultures and Ponies.

Abstruse Berry
Each berry of this plant seems to be an impossibly perfect sphere.  It has been studied by mathematicians and engineers all over and every one of them has left their lives behind to become traveling monks.  They call themselves the Order of the Recondites and spend the rest of their lives trying to make our world fit this perfect model of a berry.  They wander filing down mountains, filling in valleys and telling people that they just don’t get it.

Rinkleheimer Berry
Turns you into the last animal to eat a berry off its bush.  No one knows what the first berry eater became.  But who can resist?  And what will become you?

Carnassial Berry
A very toothy berry that will do its best to eat you if you’ve come to do the same to it.  A coyote’s chance is about 50/50.  How well do you do against a coyote?

Lyra Berry
As you chew you hear the berry’s swan song.  A perfect melody, sweet to tongue and ear.  Quiet triumphs.  Crashing crescendos.  A life in sound.  Then the berry is gone.  The concert is over.  You eat another.

Haspberry
The berries grow off the roots rather than the branches so you have to dig for your treasure.  Where pebbles come from.  Or are people just digging up pebbles?

Swong Berry
This berry is not from the shrub it’s growing on.  Will you plant it?

Orion Berry
Do not eat!  I’d like to tell you they’re poisonous or inedible, but no, I’m a berry eater of incredible honesty and integrity.  They’re just my favorite and I want them to be there if I should stroll by.  Why don’t you go try a carnassial berry?  I’m sure you’ll be fine.     

Nous Berry
A very sensible fruit (unlike some of these other drupelets).  Keep calm and berry on.

I’ll never be a grown-up!

Though I know that I must grow
There’s only one way that I’ll go.

I’ll grow into the ground! 

I’ll
be
a

g
r
o
w
n
–
d
o
w
n.

Some creatures have fierce features
That serve as brutal teachers.
Those of the Barrikite
Thrive in sky and light.

Its skin scaled cobalt blue,
Mushroom eyes with red shot through,
A charcoal feathered tail
Running up a rigid sail,

With silver horns as crowning wreath
And golden tongue and crystal teeth
All built upon burnt copper bones,
This is a beast that stands alone.

The Barrikite goes hunting storms,
Peace and calm it fears and scorns,
It only drinks rain as it falls
And always answers thunder’s calls.

Lightning might mean we combust,
It’s beastly feast for one who trusts
The ancient, chaos, nightling gods
Who built a breathing lightning rod.

It finds and climbs the highest point,
Lightning strikes as it anoints
A wild thing with great delight –
The electric Barrikite.

Illustrations by Cade Halada whose art can be found here.

Find what you are.
Be kind.  Be strong.
Be grass.  Be stars.
Be still.  Be song.

Find out your gift.
Be king.  Be pawn.
Be safe.  Be swift.
Be rat.  Be swan.

Find what you need.
Be right.  Be wrong.
Be kept.  Be freed.
Be gone.  Belong.

Luck comes in good and bad
And you play a large part
In which one we all add
More of to our arcs.

Bad luck can end with you
If you stop it right here,
Refusing to let through
Luck’s bad and your fear.

Pass on the good that comes!
You’ll find you’re at the crux
Of how good luck becomes
Good lucks.

When I find a penny
I always wonder why
The world would be so spendy
On such a guy as I.

Many see a penny
As tiny, worn and worthless.
It’s not much or many
But something has been purchased.

I try not to worry
But I’m a little young yet
To be in such a hurry
To go so deeply into debt.

Life’s a sea
With endless swells,
Know where she
Keeps her wishing wells.

Turn coins to wishes if you can,
Wish away what you might owe,
Tell me if you’ve better plans
But this is all I know.