Spacious and tiny is the Universe
All sounds are clear though somehow distant.
I float there weightless
But too soon it all dissolves
And I return to this world.

To love and be loved,
When hate and fear abound
To stand by someone
Who might need a friend
To sweep away the cobwebs
Of fear and distrust
To stand in the doorway,
And turn away the pestilence of greed.   VGJ

                                              Meaningless, empty.
                                             No; obscure, unfilled.
      Solid,                             Chaotic, confusing,
    The air roars past                 Or diverse, and fascinating?
    Stimulating                        Difficult?
    In its coolness.                   Challenging.
    Tatters of cloud flash by.         Unpredictable?
    Earth becomes clearer.              Exciting.
    Toy trees next to model buildings         Ridiculous?
     Become distinct                       Entertaining.
      Earth begins to stretch              Worthwhile?
      All directions at once,               Worthwhile.   VGJ
      Like a vast balloon - it is time.
      Look!  Reach!  Pull!  Oomph!
          Constant cool breeze
          Earth approaches slowly
          Closer, closer...  Flare.
          Earth stops.  Gentle contact.


  I'm nobody!  Who are you?
      Are you nobody too?
Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!
     They'd banish us you know.

  How dreary to be somebody!
    How public like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
   To an admiring bog!

               -- Emily Dickenson

         Alone Again - Naturally

In a little while from now, if I'm not feeling any less sour,  
I promised myself to treat myself to visit a nearby tower.
And climbing to the top, to throw myself off
In an effort to make it clear to who-
Ever what's it's like when you're shattered
Left standing in the lurch, at a church where people're saying
"My God that's tough she stood him up. No point in us remaining
May as well go home," as I did on my own - alone again, naturally.
To think that only yesterday I was cheerful, bright and gay.
Looking forward to what wouldnt do - the role I was about to play.
But as if to knock me down, reality came around
and without so much as a mere touch cut me into little pieces
leaving me to doubt all about God in His mercy
for if He really does exist then why did he desert me?
In my hour of need I truly am indeed alone again, naturally.
It seems to me that there are more hearts broken in the world
than can be mended, left unattended.
What do we do?
What do we do?
(Alone again, naturally.)
Looking back over the years, and whatever else that appears
I remember I cried when my father died
Never wishing to hide the tears.
65 years old.  My mother - God rest her soul,
Couldn't understand why the only man
She had ever loved had been taken, leaving her to start
With a heart so badly broken, despite encouragement from me
No words were ever spoken.
When she passed away I cried and cried all day
Alone again, naturally.
Alone again, naturally.           Gilbert O'Sulivan

      The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins
In the middle of the Earth in the land of Shire,
lives a brave little hobbit whom we all admire,
With his long wooden pipe and fuzzy, woolly toes,
He lives in a hobbit-hole and everybody knows him:

Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins!  Only three feet tall!    
Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins!  Bravest little hobbit of them all!              
Now hobbits are peace loving folk, you know;
They're never in a hurry and they take things slow.
They don't like to travel away from home,
They just like to eat and be left alone.
But one day Bilbo was asked to go
On a big adventure to the caves below
To help some dwarves get back their gold
That was stolen by a dragon in the days of old.


Well, he fought with the goblins!  He battled a troll!
He riddled with Gollum!  A magic ring he stole!
He was chased by wolves, lost in the forest,
escaped in a barrel from the Elf-King's hall!                          

Now he's back in his home in the land of Shire,
That brave little hobbit whom we all admire,
Just a sittin' on a treasure of silver and gold,
A puffin' on his pipe in his hobbit-hole.                              

Bats fly in the caverns of my mind,
Creating havoc with the shning cowebs,
Which (with a bit of string and some glue),
were the only things holding the fragile Earth together,
Preventing the debris from becoming too great,
And causing the stalactites and stalagmites and echo chambers,
To all come tumbling down.

People, like so many bats, fly blindly,
Creating havoc with everday feelings,
Which (with some care and a little bit of effort),
Can be rendered either sterile or neuter,
Leaving the debris to masquerade behind stoned eyes,
And cause every muted attempt at meaningful affection,
To all come tumbling down.
                     -- Chris Cutler

       The People                                                      
I idolize them,
love them,
envy them,
They get along with everyone and have so many friends.
She has a boyfriend who adores her, and that one over
There is never without a date.

They are so nice - they even talk to me sometimes,
And I swell up with pride and would do anything for them.
But then they meet other friends and form a circle
Leaving me with my face against their shoulders,
And sometimes they walk by me as if they don't even see me.

But I understand.
I mean, they can't always have time to bother with me.
They have so many activities and are so busy.
But one day I won't have to stand in the hall admiring them.
One day, I won't have to meekly run their errands.
One day, I'll be in charge.  Everyone will look up to me and 
do what I say.  Everyone will listen and not smile
at me in that cheaply condescending way.
One day, I'll be the social star.  I'll be in the best clubs
and have the most friends and go to all the dances.
One day, I'll have everything they have now.  They won't
be around to steal the attention that belongs to me.
One day, they'll all be dead.  I'll make sure of it.
            -- Via Pacis

                 My ears cannot Hear
                                                                                    The children are playing.                                              The birds are singing.                                                 And yet the stillness,                                                 Is all around.                                            
        Squirrels are climbing the trees,
        As the dog is barking in the backyard
        And yells are heard,
        Telling the children that supper is on the table.

             It is quiet from where I sit,
          The sounds of the day are fading now,
                 only to resume,
          When the sun rises again.

                          Kris Covalt


White winged wonders           Blue ball streaked with white
Who cry                        Brown-stained and spinning
And scream                     Hanging there majestically
Forever fly                    And watching with a million of its eyes
O'er this dead dream.          Never deigning - like the sun -
                               To climb the heavens
           Steve Byron         Up and down as the day goes on
                               It is content to sit, spin, and watch


When I consider the curious habits of dogs
I am compelled to conclude
That Man is the superior animal.
When I consider the curious habits of Man,
I confess, my friend, I am puzzled

                      -- Ezra Pound

THE WORLD has just stomped me into the ground again.
So what?
Let THE WORLD think it's so big and important.
Its very actions show what a pitiful, demented thing it is.
I won't let it bother me.  I laugh at it.
THE WORLD can't stand to be laughed at.

         OPENING PRAYER OF THE SUN DANCE   (Teton Sioux)

A voice I am going to send
Hear me!
All over the Universe
A voice I am going to send.
Hear me!
I will live!
I have said it.
                         THE QUITTER

When you're lost in the wild, and you're scared as a child,
   And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sure as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
   To cock your revolver and ... die.
But the code of a man says:  "Fight all you can,"
   And self dissollution is barred.
In the hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow...
   It's the Hell-Served-for-Breakfast that's hard.

"You're sick of the game!"  Well, now, that's a shame
   You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!"  I know - but don't squeal,
   Buck up, do your darndest and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
   So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit
   It's the keeping your chin up that's hard.

It's easy to cry that you're beaten - and die;
   It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight -
   Why, that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
   All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try - it's dead easy to die,
   It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.

                           -- Robert William Service

                 TEACH YOUR CHILDREN

You who are on the road
   Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
   Because the past is just a goodbye
Teach your children well
   Their father's help will slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
   The one they picks, the one you'll know by
Don't you ever ask them why
   If they told you, you would die
So just look at them and sigh
   And know they love you.

And you of tender years
   Can't know the fears that your elders grew by
And so please help them with your youth
   They'll know the truth before they can die
Teach your parents well
   Their children's help will slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
   The one they picks, the one you'll know by
Don't you ever ask them why
   If they told you, you would cry
So just look at them and sigh
   And know they love you.

                         SOAP SUDS

From somerise to SOMERSET THE DOCTORS are working at GENERAL HOSPITAL to save the poor mortals who have but ONE LIFE TO LIVE.  THE YOUNG AND THE 
over THE EDGE OF NIGHT.  So AS THE WORLD TURNS so do our stomachs as the soap serials roll on all THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES.

                                                     -- Caroline Reitz

     Go placidly amid the noise and waste, and remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof.  * Avoid quiet and passive persons,
unless you are in need of sleep.  Rotate your tires.  Speak glowingly of those persons greater than yourself, and heed well their advice, even though
they be turkeys.  * Know what to kiss, and when.  Consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do.  Wherever possible, put people on
hold.  Be comforted, that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment, and despite the changing fortunes of time, there is alwaysa big future in
computer maintenance.  * Remember the Pueblo.  Stive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, and mutilate.  Know yourself; if you need help, call the
FBI.  Excercise caution in your daily affairs, especially with those persons closest to you - that lemon on your left for instance.  Be assured that
a walk through the ocean of most souls would scarcely get your feet wet.  Fall not in love, therefore; it will stick to your face.  * Gracefully
surrender the things of youth - birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan; and let not the sands of time get in your lunch.  Hire people with hooks.  For a good
time, call 606-4311.  Ask for Candy.  Take heart in the deepening gloom that your dog is finally getting enough cheese, and reflect that whatever
misfortune may be your lot, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.  * You are a fluke of the Universe.  You have no right to be here.  And whether you
hear it or not, the Universe is laughing behind your back.  Therefore be at peace with your God, whatever you conceive Him to be - Hairy Thunderer,
or Cosmic Muffin.  With all its hopes, dreams, promises, and urban renewals the world continues to deteriorate.  Give up.

             -- Found in a box of old 8 track tapes, Sept., 1976

There once was a man who, above all else,
wanted to know the meaning of life.
In his search, he travelled the world over,
studied every known philosophy,
and had time for nought else.
After many years of toil,
He solved the riddle.
At last he knew the meaning of life!
And having accomplished his quest,
he soon died of boredom.

                -- Lonny Howard

If you think you can, or think you can't, you're probably right.

No amount of planning will ever replace dumb luck.


Twas brillig, and the slith toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    and the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
    The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
    The frumious Bandersnatch!

He took his vorpal sword in hand
    Long time the manxome foe he sought -
Then rested he by the Tumtum tree,
    And stood a while in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood
    The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
    And burbled as it came!

One, two!  One, two!  And through and through
    The Vorpal sword went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
    He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
    come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day!  Callooh!  Callay'! 
    He chortled in his joy.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
    And the mome raths outgrabe.

                by Lewis Caroll

The wind                                       A star
Makes a lonely sound in the trees              A shimmering guide
No one is around                               Something we can follow
Time seems to have worn itself out             But can hardly reach
And now is slowly healing.

Rise up                                       Ocean
To a sun                                      So familiar
Which shines                                  So mysterious
Faintly uncertain                             Great provider
     Today                                    Terrible destroyer
No crystalline tears
    Shall fall

        Steve Byron

                     Day is done

Tell me why you're crying, my son
I know you're frightened, like everyone
Is it the thunder in the distance you fear?
Would it help if I stayed very near?
I am here.
And if you take my hand, my son
All will be well when the day is done
And if you take my hand, my son
All will be well when the day is done
Day is done (when the day is done)
       "              "
       "              "
Day is done.

Do you ask why I'm sighing, my son?
You shall inherit what mankind has done
In a world full of sorrow and woe
If you ask me why this is so - I really don't know


Tell me why you're smiling, my son
Is there a secret you can tell everyone?
Do you know more than men that are wise?
Can you see what we all must disguise
Through your loving eyes?


        MID-DAY RUSH             In the woods I met a man
                                 Who was a little wierd.
The bell doth ring               A book he wore upon his head,
And we do swarm                  And feathers in his beard.
To join our fellows              "I am not real," he said to me
A line we form                   "So there's no need to fear!"
To fight for food                Then, standing up, he doffed his head
A place to sit                   And promptly disappeared.
If not found
We throw a fit
We try to eat
Cookies rock hard

And bacon fried                     Oua minala milelina botz
In a pound of lard                  Katula nilet macksowin
The burgers greasy                  Ztob anilelim alanim auo
The milk quite sour                 Niwoskcam telin alutak
To eat this garbage                 Yrrebnetrof
Takes half an hour                  Noitacidem
Oh, the trial
Of fate so cruel
To try to eat
Our lunch in school.                      Space
                                          Megamultitudes of stars
Dedicated to those fearless               Endless, infinite variety.
women in our local instituion
of higher indigestion.
                        -- Bruce S Moore