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Insult to injury. That's what that stupid wizard did to me. Added insult to injury.
As if transforming my beautiful face into this hideous, hairy mug wasn't enough, he put up posters. Introducing the Cowardly Lion! How many princesses do you know who will believe a talking escaped circus lion who claims to be a prince under a spell? And the blasted wizard didn't even have the decency to monologue properly while he was casting his spell, so I can't even be certain that a kiss from a princess will break it!
Of course, all of my research to date indicates that a princess' kiss will break this enchantment quite nicely, but one can never be too careful. If only I could find a princess who would be willing to try it! I mean, how bad could kissing a lion really be?
I had a brief glimmer of hope when that Dorothy girl came along. True, she wasn't technically a princess, but I joined her questing party, and fable dictates that would qualify perfectly, seeing as she would have become a princess had we married. (Ha! As though I would marry a commoner. And one from Kansas, at that!)
But no! The very wizard she was looking for turned out to be none other than the wizard who cursed me! The dratted ma had moved to the city to drum up more business with his "Wonderful Wizard" gig. And then, he had the audacity to tell me that he wasn't a proper wizard at all, and he didn't know how to change me back! Ha! Who ever heard of a fake wizard turning a prince into a lion by accident? No one, that's who!
And now I'm stuck with a brainless scarecrow, and a ridiculous man made of tin who both refuse to leave me alone! Every time I tell them to take a hike, they link arms and start skipping, singing about yellow roads, green cities, and bears. It's almost enough to turn me into a vegetarian, or whatever sort of -arian would eat a scarecrow and a tin man.
Not that I would actually eat something made of aluminum. I can't risk my rakishly handsome grin. I'll need it when I'm myself again. Besides, tin wreaks havoc with a lion's digestion.
I only hope that I will be myself again soon. I must win the hand of a fair princess! Or perhaps that Witch of the South could be of assistance. I hear she's very helpful, as long as the Witch of the North doesn't show up, and provided the Wicked Witch of the West doesn't go melting on me again any time soon.
This ghastly land of Oz! Next time, I go holidaying in Narnia.
As if transforming my beautiful face into this hideous, hairy mug wasn't enough, he put up posters. Introducing the Cowardly Lion! How many princesses do you know who will believe a talking escaped circus lion who claims to be a prince under a spell? And the blasted wizard didn't even have the decency to monologue properly while he was casting his spell, so I can't even be certain that a kiss from a princess will break it!
Of course, all of my research to date indicates that a princess' kiss will break this enchantment quite nicely, but one can never be too careful. If only I could find a princess who would be willing to try it! I mean, how bad could kissing a lion really be?
I had a brief glimmer of hope when that Dorothy girl came along. True, she wasn't technically a princess, but I joined her questing party, and fable dictates that would qualify perfectly, seeing as she would have become a princess had we married. (Ha! As though I would marry a commoner. And one from Kansas, at that!)
But no! The very wizard she was looking for turned out to be none other than the wizard who cursed me! The dratted ma had moved to the city to drum up more business with his "Wonderful Wizard" gig. And then, he had the audacity to tell me that he wasn't a proper wizard at all, and he didn't know how to change me back! Ha! Who ever heard of a fake wizard turning a prince into a lion by accident? No one, that's who!
And now I'm stuck with a brainless scarecrow, and a ridiculous man made of tin who both refuse to leave me alone! Every time I tell them to take a hike, they link arms and start skipping, singing about yellow roads, green cities, and bears. It's almost enough to turn me into a vegetarian, or whatever sort of -arian would eat a scarecrow and a tin man.
Not that I would actually eat something made of aluminum. I can't risk my rakishly handsome grin. I'll need it when I'm myself again. Besides, tin wreaks havoc with a lion's digestion.
I only hope that I will be myself again soon. I must win the hand of a fair princess! Or perhaps that Witch of the South could be of assistance. I hear she's very helpful, as long as the Witch of the North doesn't show up, and provided the Wicked Witch of the West doesn't go melting on me again any time soon.
This ghastly land of Oz! Next time, I go holidaying in Narnia.
Literature
clock hour three
a fan of black,
i lie peaceful, half-conscious,
ensconced in the damp
of the gritty, cold sidewalk cement;
metamorphosing,
it could be said,
with my butterfly wings of taped-on paper.
fragile and crinkly,
my skin has become translucent:
reminiscent of peeled grapes.
i hover, ghostly,
in the bright reflected space
between double window-panes.
i can feel the timeout,
reach the apogee of breathing
trapped and silent in the kitchen light;
my fingers pale, probing
under my flaking skin.
the space is stretching, growing,
agonized with acidic mezzo moaning
and the static close memories
that are all too real for an insomniac.
Literature
Wildwomen
I borrowed a horse last Thursday to hunt the Wildwoman. He was tall and painted hungry; She’d borrowed time, then disappeared.
I could not bend to pick the rocks. The horse kept kicking dusty circles. ‘Round the barn, the Wildwoman crept in boots that used to be mine.
We didn’t see Her till the last three barrels, where She sprouted from the grit between my fingers to silence shouting hands.
Winding down sore muscles, drawing ankles to earth, She traced my body before darting up my spine - straight line from heels, to hips, to Crown.
And in the half-breath the horse spied hay and tried to throw me from the saddle, She
Literature
The Lighthouse Keeper
I've manned the lighthouse since 1912 when
Titanic sank, & I will continue to do so
until she emerges from the deep, bringing
demons snarling inside the steaming pipes,
& sails one last time. Guiding her home,
the lighthouse shines far, not near.
At night I catch beams from the tower in a lantern
& swim out with it to the boat bobbing on the surface,
surrounded by shreds of mist. I begin to row,
the gentle splashes of the oars warning the seahorses.
They trample the jellyfish as they escape,
because they’re so different in their ways,
one foaming by the muzzle & the other just drifting
(like you floated away).
I try the jellyfish on
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Wizard of Oz meets Princess and the Frog! Sort of...
Any typos? Italics hurt or help? Suggestions/complaints? How does the character of the prince come across?
Critique: [link]
Any typos? Italics hurt or help? Suggestions/complaints? How does the character of the prince come across?
Critique: [link]
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