“Excuse me, Sir!
The world would have a word!”

I said, “Such a shame! I don’t appear to be here.
If I see me I’ll whisper in my little ear –
‘You’ve clearly crossed the fantod frontier,
Fly for the stars and disappear!'”

“Sir! You’ll respect this fine world!
Or have you not heard?”

“That it’s time I turn bird?
Please, have all my words!”

“I think perhaps we should restart,
Did you not know we have your heart?”

“But not my wings!
And loss of a heart will always sting
But I have many more to bring
With me to beat for other kings.”

“Silly Sir!
You’ve gone absurd!”

“And I’ll keep going on, you know!
Leaving hearts and bits of soul
Wherever they might give and grow.
I’m out of words and I must go.”

Kasink could not fly.
He dreamt of wind and clouds and sky
But it would be a laughing lie
To say he ever got as high
As a dreary sigh.

Kasink made a plan.
He had a thought turn to demand,
“Fly” was free, bug and command,
He’d have all three and drop the land
For something far more grand.

Kasink set a snare.
He captured countless flies with care,
Tied each one to one of his hairs
And at long last he was prepared –
He would know the air.

Kasink flew on up!
This was his life’s one great triumph!
Controlling flies had him quite stumped,
They flew him in a buzzing clump
Straight to the closest dump.

Illustration by Anni whose art can be found at @annifduluth.

Sometimes I go missing
And don’t know where I’ve gone.
I’m me without myself,
Some sort of sunless dawn.
Where I go I hope to never know
But will go and go and go.
Every time I go me free
I come back with more of me.

Have you ever known a curse?
Some are end-all, others worse.
Some slide a silly sort of sideways,
Passing odd logic laws by ways
Otherwise unknown.
Could be Sense takes out a loan.

From the day he was born
Lur was cursed to grow horns.
But he didn’t go goat,
Nor bull, ram or jackalope.
Off the top of his head he grew
Bugles, kurudutus and tubas too!
Some tiny, making a sound astoundingly whiny.
Others big as a car and twice as shiny.

Do you know what he did,
That slick little kid?

Lur took his curse and turned a profit!
He made a happy living off it!
Sometimes success cannot be stopped.
He opened up a music shop.
He learned to grow horns to request.
His toot-toot-tootlers were the best!

How his curse came is another tale.
Lur’s parents knew well how to fail.

Santa’s at the North Pole,
The sun runs west.
Devil’s down his south hole
With many honored guests.
But we’ve yet to find where
That bouncy bunny beast or
Its candied eggy lair are,
Because, of course, it’s always Easter.

The most important part of the word “Believe”
Is “Be”.
But matterful as well is “Leave,”
Says me.

Believing gives no guarantee
Of getting us past those diamond can’ts.
But I believe, and we agree,
It does give us a chance.

What’s better than being
Someone who goes leaving
Things not worth believing.

Be what works.
Leave what don’t.
Believe in you
When others won’t.
But go beyond
This simple turn –
Make believes real
Even if they weren’t.

She ran away, she ran away,
She did not walk, she ran away,
From what, she would not say,
She ran away, she ran away.

While she was not afraid,
She wanted nothing of today,
She ran away, she ran away.

Some called, “Coward!” others, “Brave!”
All were wrong, she ran away,
So much they named her “Castaway,”
And many muttered, “Oh, she’ll pay,”
As they so sadly sat in their dismay
At this disquieting display,
She did not care, she ran away.

Like a sheep going astray,
She ran away, she ran away,
All turned to flocks of shepherds
Who had to have their say,
“That’s all wrong!  Come this way!”
Castaway did not obey,
She ran away, she ran away.

How ’bout this cliche –
They saw themselves as noble knights
With dangered damsel who need be saved,
And offered safety on silver tray,
She ran away, she ran away.

All had to have a say,
Say, say, say, say, say,
She ran away, she ran away.

Truth is, she ran right to
What she wanted – and there she stayed.

Beasts have gone beyond the rules,
Where love and wild are the same.
They’ve broken out of stories
And have no fear of being tamed.
They offer the unknown,
Shred up every guarantee.
Whether or not they are,
Above all, beasts must be.

Most say be good.
Some say go bad.
I think be woods
And sky and glad
To turn to stone
Or squeaky creek
Or even bone
Or something beaked.
Be shining star.
Be pouring rain.
Be what you are
And you again!
Forget the fads
If you so dare
To pass good bad
I’ll see you there.

Bleve chopped down a tree
For she had to see
What it was below the bark,
That quietest of secret sparks,
That grew this steady, leafy beast
Around which wild things increased.
(Plus she’d heard of hidden rings.
There might be many treasured things.)
Tree fell from birds to worms
And Bleve couldn’t come to terms.
She cried sky-falling storms,
So scared at what she’d earned.
Her own heart scowled and turned,
Oh, how it cracked and burned!
Another lesson too late learned.
She stood on stump in tears
As days fell down to years,
The seasons volunteered
To wipe away her fears
Till at last the trees were peers.
If you can hold your disbelief
I’ll keep this nice and brief –
Bleve grew a twig, she grew a leaf,
She grew out of her killing grief
With roots deep in the great relief
Of having woods as caring chief.