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A Fascination with Fairies. (Excerpt)

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Preface

There once was a gent named Girard Whose masterworks dazzled and charmed. His art ignited such lust It made the lustiest combust.
They just burned, unconcerned and bought more Girards.
Unnoticed by blame, undiscovered by fame (Girard lived, after all, out of sight in Detroit) His pieces still set art mavens aflame. Made of earth brushed with mirth, they laugh at life’s plights.
Hey! Don’t  like my damned poem? Go write your own. 
Sweet Bill was unique. You might say eccentric. 
He loved his craft, loved to teach and proved quite prolific.  Sure, to some his marvels appear enigmatic. But those they ensnare say that his work is magnetic.
All the same, if the past is our present, Girard was prophetic! 

Bill lived a life as rich as rich gets. Pots of love, blazing art, lots of friends, lots of pets! He built and  he filled a museum of joy. Have a look. Take your time. What’s not to enjoy?
Updated 12-01-18

Introduction:
The following is an excerpt from a prose poem for performance, tentatively titled,