John Willy Kopperud

It took but eighty-six generations for my memory to completely wipe out the image of their robes and painted faces. I merely followed the track from a cave mouth by the lake to the balcony up

Abruptly the cell-phone on the yak-skin in the middle of the tent chimed merrily. Attila stared at the noisy thing. He was certainly no prude. Nevertheless, due to his 5th century manners, he found

Who sounded that horn? A deep vibration under grass tickling the moles belly reaching the ear of a squirrel with pointed ears while the city's still enveloped in

Silently we tiptoe past the figure eight - lying down.

Repeatedly we pull rainbows to the ground.

One bush -eighty eloquent sparrows.

Tune your lyre, ladies, raise your voices, like Sapfo the other day, as she fixed that old hexameter. And I'll tune in to you.

Inspectors, overseers,tightjaws, shouting for control, forever complaining about my weak hearing.

All our contributions, entertainment as well as food for thought, were once inspired by goddesses. Since then Dionysos and his merry band left the woods outside this city

That thin cat. One fat leather salesman The busload with seriously sun-burnt Finns. Eighteen Medusa heads in the garden where we had lunch and your smile.

Snow, electricity and distant stars all agree: Suburbia's velvet envelope shall be touched by light.

Watch that void thinking it's unobserved waiting for the moment to explode. Expectations of tramcars and dinosaurs under moons in orbit. Let's capture infinity before it gets too

No other name than that of the Lady Greensleeves comes forth; just glimpses of sweet, rolling meadows beyond the pungent smell of towns. Lady, you were to blame cause I am yet another

Clouds and rain conspire to embezzle the light. Abruptly we find ourselves in the heart of bleak Schwarzwald. Check out the giant and the princess locked to each others pale

-Mr.Caterpillar to appear on the other side of your cabbage leaf.

Life fairly limited memory extended to the brim of reason - and beyond.

We still have to seek up captain Jason, get all our stuff from the boardinghouse, board that brave ship Argos and let the southern breeze of antiquity fill her sails as we're headed

Outside,resembling Lemon and Lime we do enjoy as radio noises sneak up to kiss our ears. They're playing yet another track from The Love Machines latest album.

Mr. Rabelais has parked his new Golem in a bible black alley and ponders the question.

Still there's jewelry to flaunt by the captain's table. After sundown musicians appear on stage. Everybody knows this ship can never sink.

God loves the insane who take flight while all birds still sit with claws locked around a twig.

Baron M., finally back from his longest journey ever sincerely wishes to be taken seriously this time.