Kawsay met Impossible once.
They had a lengthy chat.
Imp said, “This is this and that is that.”
But Kawsay couldn’t agree:
“I’ve known many thats that were this
And even a this that was that, you see.
All things go back and forth.
Anything can change.
Rock is water.
Normal is strange.
Or could be, if it tries.
Know this and you won’t be surprised
When you see a pig that flies.
And why not?
What pig doesn’t want to soar?
What thought can’t bite?
What rose won’t roar?
Even the crowded get lonely.
Even dragons want more.
Is does not mean only.”

Illustrated by Fue

Fey fought for the rats in the Furball War,
In that war she slew herself.
From the Frowning Hills to the Star Dust Shore,
The rats, bats, mice, and the gray cats four,
Fought and fell in filth.

They made their home into a madman land,
Replacing peace with pain.
Fey’s heart revolted but she owed her hand
To the rat prince Fink and his command
Was fan and fly into the flame.

War came for Fey and for them all,
Lighting the way with the darkest glimmer.
The last one standing’s just the last to fall,
With war the only winner.

There’s a monkey in my mouth
And a crab up in my brain.
The monkey’s always mouthing off
And the crab makes me seem insane.

My finger worms are wigging out.
The belly geese are in an uproar.
All my gut lizards are oddly calm
And wondering what’s the fuss for.

The toad stowed in my nose
Got a whiff of my firefly eyes.
Now he sounds his hungry croak
So they’ll look alive, those firefleyes.

The bear cub in my chest awoke,
I can hear her growl.
My many critters creep about,
My pals are on the prowl.

I’m not me.
I’m a one-kid zoo.
Look at you!
You’re a mess!
You must be one too.

You?  You’re the best.
And me?  Well I’m me.
Imagine what you
And I could be as we!

The Queen and King.
Grandest of Poobahs.
We are perfection.
We know no flaws.

Every thought a hope.
Every now a chance.
Every moment free.
No don’ts.  No can’ts.

Who could stop us?
We will never end.
Nothing can match what
You find in a friend.

Heart of stars, eyes of night,
You know the hidden things
That dare not cross our sight.
Tell us, teach us,
Whisper to us secrets
That thrive outside the light.

Creatures that twist and turn
In the feathered fields
As the darkest hours burn.
They know us well,
But our knowledge fails –
We want and wish to learn.

Then listen!  We begin –
Not at your feet you’ll find
A grub with copper skin.
It’s called a spuh
And feeds upon the
Toothy daisy lion.

The dancing turnips tend
The beastly butterbees
That blend the western wind.
And to your right you’ll
Never see the frogbull,
Who’ll gladly eat a friend.

Look quick and you’ll just miss
The twisting tweedle pile
And twisted, tortured bliss.
You’re lucky you can’t see
Such things or you’d join me
In this endless abyss.

Thanks for teaching the foul.
Should you need us just
Loose your hooty howl.
We’ll always listen.
Our hearing’s never done,
Dear twilight owl.

Drawn by Kirsten

Few things can match the Grand Crayon Safari
In splendor, thrill and difficulty.
Few folks know the world’s shades as well as she,
The great color hunter, Mackles McGee.

Her first catch came on the day she was born.
She stared straight into the eye of a storm.
Its scared gaze broke and its Gray was torn
From heavy clouds laying low and worn.

As a child she worked real hard,
To see the colors as they really are.
Every shard she caught she jarred,
Hunting every hue, however marred.

Mackles went where every glimmer sent her.
She pulled Green out of deepest winter,
Saw through the sun to its gooey Blue center,
Snatched Purple from flames, splinter by splinter.

Very few people see true color.
They look at one thing but see another.

McGee has many more mysteries.
Why do White and White wander as they please,
Worming their way into all she sees?
How are Rainbows only seen not seized?
Where’s Black?  Everyone knows and disagrees.

She lives and learns but life’s a tease.
Now off she goes into the Golden trees.

With all the world a maze,
Which way do you go?
Lost or on your way,
However would you know?

There are dead ends and traps and
Only crooked paths to take.
Every step is a must
And may be a mistake.

You walk in many circles.
There’s a turn for every turn.
Is this the way of ways?
You can only hope to learn.

(Read about Bitsy’s lucky sister here.)

Bitsy was born beneath a falling star
That knocked her under a moving car,
Where she got wedged till smacked ajar
By a hornet’s nest which loosed its horde
Of hungry hunters that chased her aboard
A leaving ship she couldn’t afford
So the crew dropped her off the side
Square into shark jaws waiting wide,
Snapping shut for a wild ride
To the northest pole where both lost their bout
And the frozen fish upchucked her out
Atop the ice, which pulled a shout
From an ugly elf who grabbed her quick
And hauled her in front of young Saint Nick
Who couldn’t find a single lick
Of good or bad on his long list
So to keep things square he kissed
Her cheek and hurled her with his barn sized fist
Back into the swallow it all sea
That sank her in one gulp and she
Went down so far she came up dizzy
On the purple shore of Rock Claw Isle
Where constant war is fought by vile,
Crooked, creeping crabs that she battled while
Year downed year and crowned her child, teen,
Adult, and, through no fault of her own, Queen,
Though that same night came a coups unseen
That threw her in a walnut shell
And buried her deeper than earth could tell
But nothing stays closed, not even a cell,
And up she popped in the land of Knowair,
Sprouting like a milkweed fair
Below the belly of a bagua bear
Whose eyes went wide and sneezed in surprise,
Blowing her into the Cave of Cries
Where dragons slumber when free of the skies
And are grumbly grumps if any dame
Or sir should stir them and gain such blame
As to incur a deserved wave of flame,
Which she rode back out to the shaky shock
Of that same bear, giving a nasty knock
To his poor head (he squeaked a low squawk)
As they fell in front of a feral rose
That spiked her on her acorn nose,
Which swelled until she finally chose
To pop it, scaring the bear again,
Sending him bolting for his den,
Nearly knocking her out of her skin,
But she held on tight as tears and –

At the very latest time of night
Before it turned toward morning,
A goblin horde tore down our door
And poured in without warning.

Gobs yipped and yowled with hackles high,
That night they killed poor quiet.
My sword and I, we howled along,
I brought a one kid riot.

Through clash and crash we met and fell,
But they rode goblin steeds.
I could not match their screaming speeds
Nor win by my heroic deeds.

Then they were gone.  They left their stink
But took my savage sister.
The loss was little, but even so,
I almost kind of missed her.

I may fail but I never stop
So what could I do but chase?
Disgrace would wait, for I had a date
With goblins, face-to-face.

They sped ahead, I followed close,
When who should steal my stare?
But sister dear who wore a sneer
And said, “You get a scare?”

Turns out the goblins saw her in our house
And thought she was a gobby queen.
They fought to rescue her from our claws
‘Cause they’d never seen a meaner mean.

They learned how truly cruel her rule
Would be with none above her,
And sent her back to us, the fools –
Maybe they’d take my brother.

Time to get up!
The world awaits!
Battle begins again!
You go to face and fight the fates!

Pull on your dimples.
Strap on your chin.
Go with a glare
Or fall back on your grin.

Onward and Outward!
Thatward and Shoutward!
Let ’em call you a fool
But never a coward!

There the dawn trumpets!
And you roar right along!
The day brings the band
But you write the song.

Drawn by Dylan