my pet glurk

Slytherin

griot

the song of the night beast swallowing day

vegetarian

non-Euclidean slipper

lost at the cubists' ball

thumb kimono

so I'm told

frosh rep rap

Try to make me vote for Rehab, I say no, no no.

Bring on Tea Party Rapture, um hmm, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Only by financial meltdown do we win the game,

Government free of money in just a few short days.

Try to make me vote for Rehab, I say no, no no.

idea man

Henri Ennui

scammer

Beelo Komiyo

an oath to the keeper of what went before

True Story 13: Queen Anne

When I was about ten, I possessed a poker chip. I didn't own it; I possessed it. I was the steward of the poker chip.

It looked like any other poker chip, but I knew better. I knew it was a royal poker chip. It was called Queen Anne.

On one side of Queen Anne was a jockey atop a racing steed. This was significant. It displayed determination of purpose, something that seemed desirable, if somewhat unobtainable for a twelve-year-old.

I kept my Queen Anne poker chip in a special box. The special purpose of the box was to hold the chip. It did so admirably.

At times, I thought it might be somewhat odd, this thing I had with a poker chip. Would a normal child revere such an object? Would another kid call it Queen Anne? Seemed rather unlikely. But it wasn't like I gave it super powers or anything. I didn't bow down before it. I just gave it reverential respect. I thought it deserved it. Something deserved it. My father didn't deserve it. But that's a different story.

Or is it?

Anyway, I don't know what ever happened to Queen Anne. I guess I was a lousy steward. I outgrew my reverence and she became a simple poker chip again. But by then, she was cut off from her tribe, and a single poker chip is a sad and lonely thing. I imagine her in some landfill, re-arranging her molecules into something resembling nature.

Farewell, Queen Anne. You were special once.

salmagundi

Sometimes it comes out all wrong,
but it still has to be consumed.

Sally

Drella's corpse

Saint Barbara

Done in by her father's sword; her father was done in by a bolt of lightning. Venerated for centuries by artillerymen and miners.
Shown here with snakeplant, aka mother-in-law's tongue, aka tiger's tail, aka espada-de-santa-barbara, aka sword.. of Saint Barbara.

concrete poet

exTREMEly
BOTHersome
PORTryLAND
NAGgreGATION

Jerry Garcia

All I know is something like a bird within him sang.

071611

flowstone

Thutmose II

The much lesser half of Hatshepsut.
Made a good mummy, anyway.

71311

acid washed

71111

flint

marly inclusion, provides spark

JuVee Psych Ward 87

half devil

He just couldn't muster a full Lucifer.

Buster Brown: The Later Years

It's really just a picture,
but it's fun to play pretend.

70711

mountaineer

(No extra charge for accidental chin face.)

Canarsie fotab

36 years in development

Chief Amungthum

The treaty's provisions included strife,
perfidy, and their pursuit by soldiers.

lobbyist

one who hangs around hotel lobbies in search of gullible rubes.

Joan Miró

He sought motionless movement...
the eloquence of silence.

dahdahwat

A shape-shifting spirit creature.
He lives in dreams, yet he can kill.