. . . in his sleep!

‘Twas Saturday when Dad sat down.
He’d been quite busy all ‘round town.
Helping folks — the sick the poor,
Ringing bells and knocking on doors.

Napping Walter | original image copyright © 2021 by the author

Minister work is never done,
Unabated, sun to sun.
Brief pauses sometimes might appear,
And that’s when dad goes shooting deer.

Other dads, they guzzle booze,
but my dad, he’ll just take a snooze,
While dreams of Bambi fill his head,
Upon his Barcalounger red.

Santa Claus who folks hold dear,
Well THAT guy sleep the whole darn year,
Both Dad and Claus deserve a rest,
These helping folk, they do their best.

So let us merry each one be,

and decorate our Christmas trees,
And leave a cookie out for Claus,
And napping preachers, Gramps, and Paws.

Merry Christmas!



Brian King, writer. RIP.

Brian King, friend and fellow writer, is dead at 25. The last two and a half of those years he lived out in the open -- well, as openly as he could, the global pandemic raging all around.

I stood in as Sherpa the day we exfiltrated Brian from Alabama. The weather was dark and harrowing; a deluge of rain nearly forced us to stop.

Then suddenly, this moment, glimpse of the Sublime:

Et lux aeterna . . .



Eric Griggs

Juxtaposeur, technical analyst, process engineer, poet wordsmith, INTJ, Anansi, MBTI certified practitioner & team-builder, certifiable fabulist & Uppity Queer™