Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.

root it out the tiny bit left that says someone’s in charge not you. don’t let it live

may be too onerous a task for those not starving. lucky

we go walking around walking all over this town nothing ever getting us down cause we’re just a couple of clown…

of course it is not about you. you have to know this, like baby birds know worms come with mother’s return,

there are never really any angels in god’s company, it really just pretends them

life and even one good thing– anything, a course in wonders becomes? no school, thanks not for me. no lesson one so likes declaring to find itself legs. no

unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,

i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.