A poem I'm toying with, from a quote by Tolkien and the title of one of Ringo's books -

I desire dragons, and demons, and dreams,
and white-wondered unicorns of the cloudy teams
that trampled through the sun's path, and over all the land,
and mermaids combing out their hair on strands of pearly sand.

I dance to night-owls calling with the faeries in a ring,
and howl my heartache to the moon, and hush to hear the sirens sing,
and chase the rainbow to its end in search of pots of gold;
for I require magic, and woven tales of old.

Wonders whirl around me and rise shrieking to the sky,
and kindle fresh the faded Fantasts' fire in my eye -
mend the world or rend it, laughing, tearing at the seams,
but there will be dragons, and demons, and dreams.

I'd like to find a different word to replace demons, as the connotations aren't quite what I want, but haven't been able to find one that suits the poem's rhythm so well. Any suggestions?

The other day my mother told me, I kid you not, that I needed "to learn how to be shallow." She told me that I should forget everything that the church camps and 40-day programs ever hammered into my skull about "being real," and should instead "project a mask" so that I could associate easier with other people.

What is the world coming to?

I'm jealous. I know I shouldn't be, and it makes me feel a little guilty, even though I really am very happy, too.

But I'm still jealous.

The mulberry trees look like old gnarled hands, fingers twisted on bony wrists, when they've been pruned for the winter. It's a little sad; it doesn't look so much like a tree then. Ours was always slender and graceful, good for climbing. I don't know why they'd change that; it only looks more magazine-perfect in the summer. Even the little spindly things that dot the city are more lively.

It can't be to make the tree stronger, because the house we fixed up had mulberries broader than that - Dad couldn't stretch his arms around the base. Perhaps they're worried about danger in the form of folling branches. But a good gardener can reduce most of that risk, and really, what else are they paying all these people for? Surely watering small plants every few days doesn't count as strenuous work! A timely series of tree 'checkups' might be as easy as trimming the great hulking thing is... and the end result would be much more attractive.

Tonight at dinner I finished the last of the pomegranate jelly. It shall be sorely missed.