Is enormous and has no voice. Once it becomes fully mature it hunts down and eats a train engine. Is then able to bellow as it pleases.
Burrows into sand in order to trip people. Then goes through their pockets looking for coins and other shiny things to decorate their nests. Vain and dangerous. Do not attempt to defend shiny things.
Just claws and a beak. Modern science has been unable to explain its existence.
Prefers to perch on one’s nose. Can cause cross-eye syndrome. Has never been seen clearly.
Has a very buttery flavor. Goes great on toast.
Pecks holes in cars. Seems to do so out of curiosity. Enjoys viewing the activities of the people inside.
Has a large, black beak that burns to the touch. Is more scaly than feathered. Eats nine lions a day. Is rumored to spout fire and witticisms. Might be a dragon.
Enjoys leaving gifts for people. Has yet to deliver anything useful. Near extinction. Would not be missed.
There was a young lad on a bridge,
Above a great pool of porridge;
He jumped off the side,
And opened up wide,
But the porridge ate him up like fudge.
There was an old lady of Memphis,
Who spoke with a spit and a hiss;
“Hok pita patoo!
Sass sis sauce sue!”
That garbled old lady of Memphis.
There is a young person whose eyes,
Leak oil whenever she cries;
If your car breaks down,
Give her a stern frown,
And she’ll fix you right up with those eyes.
Every continent has claims on claims,
Where can you go to break the chain
Of lamely flaming same?
You must go off the map.
Otherwise, you’ll live in traps.
Here’s one way to break the bars –
The furthest far from where you are –
If you can make it to the stars…
But that may be the hardest hard.
Instead, look to the sea.
Sink below the deep,
Where uncounted unknowns sleep,
There you claim your keep.
As for how to run a nation…
Hard work and patience?
Maybe mix love and luck
And trust in that creation.
A bug crawled out of me.
He squeaked and shouted he
Proudly spouted doubtery
With his great “NO” decree:
“No.” and “No!” and “NO!”
“Yes, NO.” and “No! No! No!”
He ran with this ranting chant
On his “not now nor ever” slant,
Roaring like an elephant.
Was it a Can’t Ant?
It was an Ain’t!
The thing about an Ain’t,
It may well be your Saint.
When you hear it “NO!”
You know right where to go.
Let him crawl out again.
Tell him to get his friends.
Where they tell you it’s the end,
Stroll straight through with winning grin.
Drawn by Walsh G.
One of them doesn’t exist
But none of them knows which.
The three may be curse-kissed
But they see themselves as rich
And they found their way to bliss.
They don’t fight against evil,
And don’t do well with people,
But persons they adore
And will wage a peace or war
For you – oh yes – and more.
They always nod to Death
And even toast his health.
Impossible just winks
As she cheers on their hijinks.
Danger taunts but does not daunt.
They are Leif and Kreke and Lynx
And are called the Astrohaunts.
Just my luck.
Lipstick did as advertised
And now my lips are stuck.
There was an old man with a flute,
Who played it with only his boot;
He stomped and he smote,
Never played a note,
That rhythmic old man with a flute.
There was an old man of the sea,
Whose boat was a fine mystery;
He sailed on a goat,
Somehow stayed afloat,
Those salty masters of the sea.
There was a young lad who said, “Nope,”
To washing with a bar of soap;
He bathed in a stew,
Then ate his lunch too,
That contented young lad who said, “Nope.”