and now to introduce our heroine
a girl so lovely, tried and true


They say it happened on a quiet night
in April, after a thunderstorm came through,
Past the train tracks where the children played,
In the grave yard where the hippies lay.
The ground was soft and wet; the moon was full
And bright upon those groovy graves, where hands
Were sprouting from the mud to claw their way
to freedom. Daisy-like, they popped up and
They shambled slowly towards the sleeping town.
Complacency has such a ..... price.

The zombies came upon the sleeping town
And struck with groaning

A friend and I were walking when we saw
Him Fall; he started as a speck of dust
On the horizon but he grew into
A screaming meteor and tore the earth
To shreds. She ran back home to find the priest,
the mayor, and the coroner- no man
alive or dead could have survived a fall
Like that. I stayed to watch and wonder at
The cruelty of Heaven, to eject a man
So forcefully. What little I could see
Of him was beautiful. My friend returned
with all The town in tow; they cried out "God
Protect us!" when they saw the crater in
The broken ground. "Stay back!" a voice commanded
from beneath the rubble and debris.
The others fled and I alone stood firm
As inky wings unfurled to blot the sun.
He lived, despite his fall, and he was great
and terrible but I was unafraid-
For I had heard the music of the spheres
within my dreams: the sweet and perfect tones
Of angels who have yet to fear the Fall.


Robert Browning Andrea Del Sart Called The Faultless Painter p934
Wordsworth, THe Ruined Cottage p703




Two girls diverged in a yellow room


Really, Really Unfinished Ballad of the Zombies, Written Almost for Halloween, But Really a Few Weeks Late, But Who's Counting, Anyway, Since Zombies Are Cool?

They say it happened on a quiet night
in April, after a thunderstorm came through,
Past the train tracks where the children played,
In the grave yard where the hippies lay.
The ground was soft and wet; the moon was full
And bright upon those groovy graves, where hands
Were sprouting from the mud to claw their way
to freedom. Daisy-like, they popped up and
They shambled slowly towards the sleeping town.
The full moon through her window woke our sleep
-ing heroine; immediately she knew
That something was not right-

[insert end of poem here]