A Tidings of Magpies

and made mischief of one kind... and another his mother called him "WILD THING!" and Max said "I'll EAT YOU UP!" so he was sent to bed without eating anything. That very night in Max's room a forest grew.. and grew- and grew until his ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world around and an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Max and he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost a year to where the wild things are. And when he came to the place where the wild things are they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws til Max said "BE STILL!" and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all and made him king of all wild things "And now", cried Max, "let the wild rum...

Parole by Alan Brownjohn (i.m. I. H.) The lately dead still arrive in the corner of your eye Past the restaurant window, preparing slow smiles of pride At achieving their return. They know that without them You can never be the same, so they cheat for a while. They keep trying to work a parole to the usual places, They won't be excluded from them if you are there. Their fingers have pressed the latch and the door nearly opens, But then their smile turns embarrassed because they find It behaves like a turnstile: they think they have admission, But this door is fixed to prevent them coming back in. And you just can't help, at all; if you went out to greet them They would not be there, no one in the street would have seen them. Then slowly the corner of your eye Forgets to look.

Assignment #1: Write a Poem about Baseball and God by Philip E. Burnham, Jr And on the ninth day, God In His infinite playfulness Grass green grass, sky blue sky, Separated the infield from the outfield, Formed a skin of clay, Assigned bases of safety On cardinal points of the compass Circling the mountain of deliverance, Fashioned a wandering moon From a horse, a string and a gum tree, Tempered weapons of ash, Made gloves from the golden skin of sacrificial bulls, Set stars alight in the Milky Way, Divided the descendants of Cain and Abel into contenders, Declared time out, time in, stepped back, And thundered over all of creation: "Play ball!"

You are sorely missed.