So much is changing. The B & N collective (not Barnes & Noble) is ending its reign of daze. We’re growing more hair in our armpits. Our voices are deepening. Things are even happening down there. Oh, and Jack the Beta is now swimming among poop in some sanitary plant. Yes, Jack is dead. But have no fear, he is still serving as a loyal daze writer and sending his picks for best and worst of the week John Edward style. We’d like to say he’s in a better place, but let’s be honest people, we flushed him down the toilet so …
On a brighter note, we’ve been feeling rather poetic lately and we thought that as this is our final issue as all-knowing, benevolent daze editors we’d use this opportunity to share our gift with you.
Spiders have eight legs and worm bait is yucky,
The tip of my pen is lusty and rusty.
Oh, turtle, your girdle is too tight to touch:
Rubber souls on mango moons skipping with a rush.
I am laughing at my sunning buttock, ha. ha. ha. ha.
Like a portrait of an artist at the A-Plus Mart.
My fish was a bloated parasite house,
Beta fish with fungus fins floating on the top.
Fruit loops are sweet, but heaven is a carpool.
Sticky feeling air and kicking big recycling bins.
Archived article by Ben Kupstas