To the Artist's Page To our home page
To Joan Pond's previous piece To Joan Pond's next piece
Excalibur The Master of Ezra Stiles had a three-legged chair where no one could sit, save the pure of heart. I pitied the Associate Professor, professing to know. Lenny went head over heels sealing an untenured fate at Yale. I couldn't wait to tell him of the mattress with no springs, and all the things that didn't go bump in the night.