Werewolves 
just don't bother me,
only traveling Weretos.
Never going home
when they know
they really should soon.
Oh I wish they'd go and
pester, Josie, Jill or Jeff
Check into the zoo at Salisbury
take up residence 
with that inconspicuous sloth.
Oh those, Weretos, Weretos,
where for out yous?
Making a ruckus at 
continental breakfast,
(that's where)
never bidding fond ados.
Always doing annoying things
like wearing out my new shoes
But really,
there's no sense in arguing
with an
"I Can't Wait!"
Cause a Wereto only knows 
one point of view...  
So pack an extra knapsack.
Hope the Stewardess doesn't ask.
The Wereto is going,
no matter when,
no matter how,
no matter what address.

They
will
always
correct
my
direction
even
though
I
know
there
are
no
wrong
writes,
just
the
one's
left.

*For Megan*

This is the other main character from the untitled project, Jonathan Winthrop. After Winthrop’s invention shop, “The Suspension of Invention”, is burned to the ground by mysterious forces, Winthrop sets out to investigate those same unknown forces with one of his patrons, Cecily the Fairyskate. However, Winthrop doesn’t believe in the unknown forces.

The Suspension of Invention

It's called the suspension 
of invention because
there is no such
thing as the
invented!
Yes, I fear
it is a comprehension 
of total misapprehension;
a belief from an invisible
incongruous dimension,
because I ask, 
how can it be made,
if it fails to exist?
Inventions are 
the invented intentions 
of extremely demented
head-ghouls who work
by ghostly-dark.
And head-ghouls are
notoriously uncemented
and mixed-up!
No, no, no, trust me, 
they all are...
That's why they hang in
graveyards 
digging other 
people's thoughts.
Yes, I know what 
I'm talking about!
Flights of fancy 
simply can't exist, 
they never-ever will!
That's ipso facto final!
So what are we 
doing here you ask?
Why we're inventing truth!
You're not even listening...
Now why on Earth did you
just give me a kiss?

Having giving up the life of door-to-door message sales, I’m once again hanging with the Employment Mouse. I.E., rather than planning a triumphant return to the world of work any time soon, my job is now solely focusing on making movies. This is Cecily the Fairyskate, one of the main characters from the ever evolving and yet untitled project I’ve been working on. In addition to being obsessed with bicycle modification and repair, Cecily can’t fly even though she has wings.

The Illusion of Flight

You just
don't know 
what you're
talking about...
Saying I 
can't fly...
Saying I 
might as well 
give up 
dreams of wide 
Big Sky...
Should I 
curl up 
and metaphorically die?
...
Ho-Hum.
...
Well first off, 
Big Sky is a place
(IN YOUR FACE!).
And for 
your information,
it's a 
town down 
in Montana!
And if a sky 
can be place,
Then I'll
elude your illusion
with my spoked
wheels flying
in a bicycle race!

Grumblings are always grumbling,
about this and that.
Go ask a Grumbling to take out the garbage,
he'll retort, 
"What, and waste my time?
I ain't doin' no rubbish like trash!"
Or tell him to trim the hedge, 
and he'll growl very low,
"Leave me alone, Jack, I'm bushed 
and am staying planted right here 
so long as I can't figure out
what whack smack you are barking about."
Try to get a Grumbling to feed the fish,
he'll reply composed and reposed,
"I just can't do it, Trish, 
for I fear the only fish I'm hooked on
come off punch-lines and onto my dinner dish."
Though, the true problem comes
when the Grumblings are more than one.
Whereas 'a' Grumbling can be humbled into mumbles
with 'a' strategically placed TV 
(which he'll watch indefinitely),
if a number of Grumblings start 
stumbling though doors, jumbling out windows 
and falling in a bumble of tumbles 
down the crumbling chimneys narrow,
that grumbling will roar into a rumbling crescendo
that even the mayor can't fix,
because by then he'll be grumbling, too,
with little, if any, clue of how to save
a neighborhood that has gone to 
the Grumbling zoo.