Four Skins




Featured art by Lana Chromium. Click title image to visit her studio.



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Wagon Christ “Manalyze This!”





Having slumbered for too many moons to ever fully bloom
The ever ready sun begun to rise in comely skies with a wealth of pride and enterprise renewed
Rumoured to be sooner than the early birds could turn the worms
Humoured by the tumors of a thousand clouds all set to burst
Its earthly birth a dirty word to soil of toil to quench its thirst for natural oils and not about to cancel out this friendship first
For it adored and force majeure could not implore defeat this day
Sometimes madame though more monsieur
Most clear on all the heretofore
The searing sun begun to rise, inclining now to shine forevermore


“Try to keep up” said the tortoise to the hare
As it plodded to the wad of oddly sorted thoughts to share
Thinking of a thing or two, it freed up four or five
Sixes sevens, eight was hateful, gratefully arrived at summer fête with cherry bakewell number nine
This tenor of a symphony divine
Meanwhile, at the finish line
The giddy hare declared a draw and then prepared some camomile
The tortoise smiled and lent its shell to save the China crockery
Sipped in shade and made a playful mockery of broccoli


Snobbery was not permitted
Daylight not at gravesite for a robbery
Nothing to corroborate, was little left to arbitrate
As risk had no composite rate or mandate for the frisking
And, as the serpent shed its skin
The homeless shrew knew there was much to do and such a rushed fondue of making something stunning from all the dusty husk the snake outgrew
Mother Earth had much to do as Father Time had stalled his cycle
Every second vital as only beggars beg to borrow their recitals
Frightfully vaginal were the spinal taps of vinyl lamps that pranced around in nipple clamps and tripled their expenses


Knitting quips while sitting on their fences were the flies
As they vomited their varnish just to tarnish the termites
No real need to choose a side as duck and cover loses height
Besides, the earth reunified
Around the time the love doves cried
Clouds renewed diffusing light
Garden revolutionized
Tossed away the user guide and headed out of sight and out of mind
To meet the moon and greet it kindly
Finally recline in timeless harmony
The irony is Father Time just pulled up on the drive






Richard Charles Stevens


Keeper of the Crimson Quill






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