I just unlocked a new cope

Young me spent far more time than I’d care to admit looking at the cross sections in this book. Good stuff.

There are also something like a dozen other Stephen Biesty cross section books. If you have kids with autism who you want to keep quiet for hours on end pick up a set of them.

HARK YE HARK YE TO ALL MEN of The Co.

“HE” SHALL ARRIVE AND WITH “HIM” THE THROES

OF WANT AND OF WANE, AND IT COULDN’T BE CLEARER

BEFORE THE NIGHT’S END THERE’LL SHOW “THE TRICKSTER™️”

FOR 1000 SUMMER’S EVES “HE” KEPT THE WEEN

AND AFTER A GIFT ONLY WILL “HIS” SPIRIT BE PLEASED

TO ENSURE THE YEAR’S WHIMSY AND TO KEEP OFF THE WOE

A VOLUNTEER’S NEEDED:
TO SACRIFICE FOR THE HOST

SO LET THEM STAND UP
AND APPROACH THE CLERK CLOSS

FOR ONE SUB’S FAIR ACT WILL KEEP HIS WRATH OFF!


(The annual Summerween Trickster needs a volunteer or bad luck will befall all fall harvests in the coming months. Please come forward as you are so moved. An administrator will be in touch shortly)

🎃🍉

The verse leaves something to be desired

Among the longleaf pines and cotton, amid the air’s slow death which cases it in an invisible mud during the summer months, he sat. With solitary light in solitary room under a solstice sky’s end and a new coming moon, the figure rose. From cane-back chair and plantation desk unfolding to a hundred compartments and with one green felt slab running across its board for ease of writing if not only for the way it looks, the man stood up. The hawk’s screaming cry squeezed through the tight mass that was the last totem of norm. “Let the Trickster come” he said. And then came the solstice of 2024

Admittedly his prose are better

KYLE!

So real my behind almost stings

Even that song is so ingrained in me that I will never forget it

The Beginnings by Rudyard Kipling

It was not part of their blood,
It came to them very late
With long arrears to make good,
When the English began to hate.

They were not easily moved,
They were icy-willing to wait
Till every count should be proved,
Ere the English began to hate.

Their voices were even and low,
Their eyes were level and straight.
There was neither sign nor show,
When the English began to hate.

It was not preached to the crowd,
It was not taught by the State.
No man spoke it aloud,
When the English began to hate.

It was not suddenly bred,
It will not swiftly abate,
Through the chill years ahead,
When Time shall count from the date
That the English began to hate.