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To My Bases

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To My Bases
Kaylyn Stout

Bases, I have to say
I owe the stunt to you,
Even when you’re tired
You always make it through.

You keep the flyer in the air,
And never let her fall.
You’re always there to catch her,
Ready to give it all.

You hustle to your places,
Already set to go.
Even though the flier gets the glory,
The strength in you can show.

So when you get out on the floor,
Be sure to do your best.
And then you’ll surely know,
How much the crowd’s impressed.
Amor Vincit Omnia



I was flummoxed by fractious Franny's decision to abrogate analgesics for the moribund victims of the recent conflagration. Of course, to display histrionics was discretionary, but I did so anyways, implicating a friend in my drama to make the effect cumulative. I think a misanthrope would have a prosaic appellation, perhaps one related to autonomy and the rejection of anthropocentrism. I think they wouldn't think much of the prominence of watching the coagulation of tea to prognosticate future malevolent events, not even if those events were related to jurisprudence.
— Spearmint