Bill Reid

“I am a pungent in the Anvillage of Rayscene.

A Witinerant wandering the oboreal forest of the Wisconsin Territories- OBO.

A beedoin purveyor of yummee beelusions in a dessert of broken dreams.

Using steel, a torch, and a few hand tools, shepherding the sparks on a grand sofaree.

Making things close up seem far out, weigh out, odd, even, know waiting.

Like a detective, I turn on the heat until the steel talks.

Over the years becoming a master at filling black holes in the twisted Crowmowzone.

Always anticipating the unexpected looniverse.

The lune is doomed.

Soon to go the way of the dodo.

Just ask any flightless astronaught.

Grounded after years of bouncing up and down.

Harassing the heavenly bodies and

in the end realizing it all added up to nothing.

While the Abominabill Mowman,

Spotted in a rare sighting at the Peskimow Picnic

sponsored by the local POW (prisoner of warming) camp

blunderwheres off towards the

Tower of Babblelawn

to tell tall tails

of Mowbee Dick

the great Green Wail.”