When you climb to the top of the mountain

by illimitableoceanofinexplicability

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HUZZAH!

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HE HATH RETURNED!

Is that right? Hath? He hath is like he has, right? I don’t know. I’m sure if you know you’re telling yourself, but, no matter, now that Jack’s back. Yes, so long had Jack Horrorchild been gone that most had forgotten and the others given up resigned to live out the rest of their days hopeless before the inevitable. Not me. No. Not me. Why would I when all the time I knew? Secure in the knowledge was I, from the earliest reports of his disappearance through the media frenzy all the way into the third installment of the world premier mini-series based on the actual events, that one day he would return.

Oh, but enough about my exceptionalism. Let me instead direct the light upon my dear friend, Jack Horrorchild, Official Poetizer for The Institute for the Study of Slightly Varying Circumstances.

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intermittent

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The Poets will tell you

but do not listen

clasp your hands to your ears and hum loudly

a tune of your own devising

or one heard on the radio will do

not your favorite necessarily

but annoying enough

to drowned out the Poets

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