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11/19/25   
Like a game of Lonely, Lonely Hippos

Sleepwalkers

by Chandra Hiccough
bio/email
July 7, 2003
Sleeping deeply, Major Fleeping
rose though no alarm was beeping
and made a sandwich of apple cores,
which he chewed between the snores.

Incessantly talking while sleepwalking,
Lazlo Dennis beat at tennis
a regional club pro, who, you know,
was dreaming of sleeping in the snow.

Reginald Humphries was getting comfy
on the cowcatcher of a train
speeding toward the coast of Maine.
(He had lobster on the brain.)

Sundried laundry
presents a quandary
for a tomato-eating serf-in-waiting,
who until recently was dating
a school of trout he'd dreamt about.

Loosely-roostered farms were boosted
by the news that Simon Schustered
across the Atlantic in a biplane.
"Worst sleep of my life," he did complain.

The president, he did lament
waking up to sign a treaty
from a dream where he shared ice cream
and a sleeping bag with Ally Sheedy.

Texas Tony dreamt alimony
had been outlawed while he slept on his horse.
Which it had not been, but of course
while he dreamt this was the case.

But worst of all was Lowland Paul,
who dreamt he was naked at the mall.
The news that had poor Paul in a pall
was that he wasn't dreaming, not at all.


Quote of the Day
“They say you are what you eat, which is precisely why I ate fine young Bernard. Though I regret to report that I feel largely unchanged, except for the part about being in prison and having a permanent case of indigestion.”

-Percy "The Cannibal" Dandridge
Fortune 500 Cookie
Nobody knows the trouble you've seen, and you'll keep it that way if you know what's good for ya, bub. Try mixing your unique brand of illiterate rage with random fits of giggling this week. People hate it when you bring your own records to be played on the jukebox—it's just a soda joint, asshole. This week's lucky piercings: throat, spleen, tear duct, tooth.


Try again later.
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3.All the beautiful shooting!
4.God Bless This Rubble
5.Sweet, legless liberation!
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