Girl Scout of America

“Indubitable, Waskly!  Indubitable!”


Baby yourself with a smooth landing

Try it, you’ll like it, unto eternity

At a careful little fire in a measureless night

Where each thorn is a gentle quiet reply


The ground here is our planet’s cleanest

The universe provides no better place to sit

As it swirls your tallest tale above us

Old Rye’s reminder:  you are good company


In fact it turns out you’re the best

The only one beside yours truly

For hours we say nothing

This pleases the cacti choir no end




(Art Copyright Beth Neely)

(Text Copyright Clyde Collins 2016)

Waskly Wabbit on Dead-End Woad

I had

no water

no water

had I


The two canteens



were dry


Cool clear H2O



 mountain well


Woulda made heaven


this road

to hell


This road that


to nothin’

but a dead end












Nothin’ but dead leaves


in this empty

dead-end bowl


And rattlesnake bones

that yodeled

“now where yuh

gonna go-oh-oh-ohhhhhhh?”


I stood n’ stared

at them bones

n’ thought

 “Oh no, oh nooooooo!”


And clouds of

gnawing gnats

made it

plain to seeeeeee


This was the

dead end of


for meeeeeee


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On The Tip Of Your Nose


It’s pretty damn obvious to me

The favorite rest stop of the universe

Is right on the tip of your nose



Your particular nose

The one on yo’ face

I hope it’s no burden being informed of

This particular miracle & happenstance with which

We all must live ~ that the favorite rest stop

Of the entire universe

Is not on anybody else’s nose but yours



I’ll leave you alone

I won’t harp on it

I’m shore there are other matters

You must focus on besides

The tip of your own




Yours truly



(Art by Lhianne & Genzoman)

Breaking Bread

by Elvis Bojangles

Here we sit

At table

Drinking coffee

Talking & chuckling


Your muse



Every once in a while

I get up


The cups

At first I think



Is me

Then I think

The inspiring entity

Only looks

Like me

Then I realize

The indescribable might not even be

Male or female

But an it

Finally I get up again

Refill the cups again

We all continue

Talking & giggling





Text Copyright Clyde Collins 2016

Adam/Eve image by Cretu Andreas


Newspaper Office IV


by Elvis Bojangles


The editor, Rawclyde, is sitting on top of his desk thumping himself in the head with his hind foot.  I’ve never seen a jackrabbit do such a thing ’til now.  It’s kind of scary.  He keeps saying over & over again,  “Oh God I’m an idiot!”  Then that hind foot thumps him in the head about 20 or 30 times.  Hard.  After awhile it’s hurting me as much as it is him.  I can’t stand it much longer.

“Oh God I’m an idiot!”  Thump thump thump thump…

“Cut it out, Rawclyde!”

“Oh God I’m an idiot!”  Thump thump thump thump…

“Cut it out!”

He grabs his foot with both paws, sticks it in his mouth and trembles all over.  He sticks his foot further & further in ’til his whole leg is disappearing down his throat.  I can’t believe what I’m seeing!

Finally I holler, “Cloyd!  What’s wrong with Rawclyde!”

Cloyd Campfire, the assistant editor, peeks shyly around the pile of books, papers, and about two-weeks worth of moldy half-eaten sandwiches piled about two-feet high a top his desk on the other side of the Old Timer Chronicle Newspaper Office.  After about 30-seconds of observation he says, “Well, Elvis, I believe he is punishing himself for being an idiot.  I further believe we both should not get involved.”

Rawclyde spits an entire rabbit leg out of his mouth.  The sopping wet leg swings around & hits him on the other side of his head.  Jackrabbit saliva splashes all over me at my desk.  Rawclyde hollers at the top of his lungs, “Oh God I’m an idiot!”