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Check out these poems, especially the one about Baba Yaga and the disappearing spaceship one, oh! and the one about the drastic quotient(what's up with that?). And can we forget "allegience of crockery"? You're going to want to read "Where The Opium Cactus Grows." It's just plain weird! ;)

It doesn't rhyme, now, does it? Then how can it be poetry? Real poetry is like sonnets and limericks and stuff, not this. I suppose some of it's kind of funny if you like this sort of thing which I don't. The kittens on the book cover are nice though.

Literature? This ain't literature, it's more like the stuff drunks write on bathroom walls. And the only fiction involves rumors of the author's sanity. Well, what can you say about someone who writes absurdities like 'lavender violence performances' and 'lydia's eggbutt prince' and calls it a book? Send for the men in white coats! NOTE: the above may be overly flattering as it was written by the author's mother.