PETER AND THE HARE
Being the curious adventures of Peter and his semi-imaginary Hare.
- Irreverant and
- Semi-pointless poetical journey through
- the middle of everything, or around it.
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Peter And The Hare on:
Some people have asked us for a place to begin. If you would like a particular place to sit, we have set forth some suggestions, if it is not too ostentatious to do so, recorded to this miraculous device, which I scarcely ever use. Ultimately you can place your Reader’s Chair wherever you are inclined; whether by the window or the furnace, or any place or dimension within this Blog House, to which we welcome you. We are merely the footstool. Click on the dictaphone to see the entirely disposable result of a liberty taken.
Year 1 Retrospective
In a year:
I opened the window and had to stop myself from falling.
There were trees… I was quite tired, though.
The shopkeeper added his own money to the till.
The Moon did not have golden syrup.
There was, instead, a pigeon, and many pigeon servants would follow.
There were door-handles…
…and I met Dmitri…
…and Dmitri met the Deer Girl…
…while I played a lot of Tetris.
The monkey squeaked. The organ squeaked.
We discovered the Internet…
…and The Beetles.
There were silverfish.
There was some poetry.
I am Peter;
An ordinary Man who nevertheless has a great talent for withstanding the curious. My endless days are made painless by the company of my good friend and Hare, whom I fear is not long for any of these worlds. Being a hare, he is cursed with an awkward temperament. Nobody in the afterlife would abide him, and I happen to know that they have prepared an escape route for the occasion of his visit.
But brothers are brothers. When two brothers make a precarious living out of the written word, one must overshadow the other. And I am the one who has been left starving. The Hare posts his poetry here, and he has permitted me to post my crude attempts. Hare with me.
Written by: Peter Buckley, and The Hare.
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