I know the hand of an artist very well. Together we have given birth to a collection of works that we are proud of. I have swept along the surfaces of many things. My touch has danced across canvas leaving nymphs and deer as well as placing color on paper-mache. My hairs have been many different colors ranging from bull browns to vibrant metallic red. I have shaded unicorns, given a penguin his black coat, and given an elk his eyes. After all we have been through; my artist has been good to me by washing my hair and keeping me properly stored. I am proud to be his paintbrush.

laden with blue and white—
I sweep water
onto canvas

Life under a bridge is renowned to be that of a troll, and that it is. Floods on occasion make the home a bit wet, but a little mold and algae never hurt anything. Fresh fish daily, a billy goat if lucky; however, this is not prime real-estate--it's just beneath the price of a cardboard box. Stones wedged together with natural mortar arch overhead and shade the muddy water so that one can barely see the fish going by. They come up to the surface, their fishy mouths gaping, gasping for air; their glazed eyes never see warted hands, or fishing rods coming for them. (I hate fishing rods, by the way.) Trash is littered everywhere--lost treasures from passerbys. Rain matters little when every spring the neighborhood gets carried downstream.

wagon overhead
rubble plops in
the cracked teacup

There is this little stuffed plushie called Kerberos. When Sakura, Tomoyo, Syaoran, or Meiling are around, though, he is an active little bugger. He doesn't need to eat, but loves to anyway. He is a little lion-shaped plushie with white wings and a tufty tail. Kero-chan is the Guardian of the Clow.

sugar and sweets
the best bribe
for the sun guardian

All day we stare at each other. He’s constantly barking orders at me, and if I don’t comply correctly, he gets angry. If he wants to listen to some music, I play it for him, and if he wants me to write something I do it. Since I organize all of his projects, you think he’d show some more respect. Even if I get sick with a virus, all he cares about is getting me healthy so I can go back to working for him. Admittedly, it is fun to play games and surf the web together. Then again, I guess that’s the life of a computer.

error—
the computer's
mistake

My job is pretty crappy. I start off in a package with a dozen of myself. I am shelved, bought, and taken to a house. I get put in a storage closet until it is my turn to be used. Once my time comes, I get put on a roller and then I get spun around until there is nothing left of me. I end up wiping the crap off of someone’s butt. Then I go to the holy land by the porcelain express.

wiping butts—
let’s see Mike Rowe
do this dirty job

The troll had escaped from the little girl’s chest of treasure after hours of toil. Why the girl had spent so much time fussing with its hair it would never know. The hours of torture were excruciating. Day in and day out the troll was forced to ride upon one of these “My Little Ponies” the girl was so enthused with. He would ride on these blue and pink ponies that had little stars on their bottoms through barnyards and through pink castles. The troll didn’t think the girl had any idea what the world was like outside. And she kept dressing him in long gowns! This was the most insulting thing of all! He was the most masculine troll he had ever met (the only one at that, but that’s another matter) and thus such acts were most insulting to him. Finally, he could escape and await the three goats underneath his bridge…now if only he’d remembered where that bridge was!

imagined life
yearning for
imagined freedom

Another morning. Her curly tail pressed to my side leaves a mark. The mud around me seeps through my hooves. Warm goo everywhere. The tall wood walls are quiet this morning. The horse stamps three stalls down. The quiet is broken. Soon his stamp is met by a whinny and a moo. I wiggle my snout and snort. Clearly, I have no power in this barn's ranking. A chorus of horses quickly hushes my snort. The barn is alive and awake. All I want to do is sleep. Brown guck makes the perfect bedding, maybe I’ll take my morning nap now. Clacking comes from the end of the barn. Old man Dale walks through the door. Humans wear such funny skin—they’re so clean. I wish I could swish some mud in his direction. It would do the man good. I suppose the nap can wait—food or sleep…it’s a tough decision. Slop washes down my spine. I lick it up. Yum!

carrots mashed
into leftover meat—
barn yard breakfast

Being a wood nymph is fabulous! You get to spend all day running through the trees with dirt between your toes and butterflies in your hair! On really hot days I love to splash around in the creek and chat with the frogs and birds and other animals that stop by for a drink. Most of my time, though, is spent with the plants of the forest and coaxing little seeds to sprout from the earth with my special touch and a lot of love. One day though I was drifting from tree to tree, as a spirit of the forest I can do that you know, a hunter ran right into me. He was very handsome but scary at the same time. I didn’t know what to do or say or even if we would speak the same language. As a wood nymph whom has been around for a long time I’ve picked up many languages from fish to plant to a multitude of bird languages. So I sat there staring at him as he stared back. His death shooter (the metal thing he uses to take life) on the ground all but forgotten, he smiles and says “hello.” I’m in luck! He speaks a language I understand! So I greet him back. Then I asked him to not kill my friends. He looks puzzled and I explain that I’m a wood nymph and all that goes along with that. After this he looks from his death shooter to me and back again and then stands up. He nods and reaches out a hand which I gladly take to help me off the ground. I asked him about his life as we walked through the woods lost in conversation. Once we reached the edge he asked me to come live with him. I was surprised and taken aback but had to explain that a wood nymph cannot abandon his wild roots. Saddened he resolved to move to the woods to live with me and we have lived here happily ever since.

drifting from tree to tree
I collide
with my future love