MERRY CHRISTMAS!
By: Happy New Year

ERRRRRRRRR!
In Defense of Tolkien's Growing Hobbits
By: Happy New Year

YES, You Can.

Choose Your Title
By: Iris P. Concepcion

Thus, from the land of fighting marionettes and chambers of the rising middle class, I seek thee your attention to an important celebration of tidings and goodwill as this writer, ever conscious of the fact that a dug well, bloody in rotation inside her stomach that even without a faucet, leaked, as proof that she is indeed a woman with working ovaries, her who had paused for a while, and in a staggering manner, composed this, in fractions, mindful that she had halved her brain often times between stasis and action. In stasis, children admonished: "Write us in your forthcoming children's book!!" Continuing, in between howls and arguments with: "Look," as if they say, "use our gregariousness forever! It is free!"

Hold forth:

Fight to liberty (I sometimes think of myself as a fraternal twin of Napoleon, only prudish). Anyhow.Freedom to dream.

The line to buy rice could be longer than what the forces of nature may have bequeathed upon rows and rows of water split suddenly by some humming, unseen hand. Flowing, running, skipping velocity, possessing unshod feet, streaming freely, faster, speedier, snobbing and slapping the big rocks like NASA-built invisible chutes inside submarines, its current equipped with still to be tailored, spectacular skiing boots, trodding down the liquid alleys which by itself is its own body mass, running, running, running like a marathoner (it will be spectacular, cute even, to place yacking hummingbirds on top of this water gone amuck, chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp, winking down below the liquid athlete and while we're at it, decorate the whole dramamatized set-up with white flowers intrusively prettifying the almost perfect surroundings----all that motion, imagine---like there is war underneath. So explosive).

A 180 degree turn of events brought me by myself again after crafting this verse:

I see, I see
Words coming out
Of your eye sockets

Forming, filming
Waves, planets
Toes, manifestos

Sharps and notes
Burning your chests
And fists

Pulling down bastardized animals
Behind you
Grinning

Fixing holes
Like Sgt. Pepper's man
Peering, clenching

Haven't you lost your
Minds to stale crabs and
Nature cheated daffodils

No, you spoke
Through your alphabets and G-clefts
Hell, purgatory, Alcatraz:
No.

And thus I remember my imaginary sister calling out to me, who said boldly and bravely: "Here, I'll carry you."