THE FAIRIES ARE LURKING around every corner--and playing in your wildest dreams. Are they good or evil? You never know. And you never know what they might do next!  These pixilated prose poems feature illustrations from some of the world's most famous fairy-hunters including Arthur Rackham. Read an excerpt below.

Parson Weems was caught peeking at fairies,
so "Cockle-doodle, Doo!"
Parson Weems cried, confounding the fairies
who always fear cockcrow and daybreak,
so Parson Weems escaped
chased by a band of trooping fairies
who tried to nab him, but Parson Weems
remembered a song to dismay them--
"Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday, Saturday,"
oops they all scatter before the Sabbath Day,
so Parson Weems escaped
but fell in soon with half the traveling host
who dice for souls and Parson Weems had lost,
yet Parson Weems knew one more trick--
"Before I'm gone forever, Good People, let me say grace."
"Can you?" the fairies asked, and dumbstruck
Parson Weems was struck speechless,
so the fairies removed his trousers
and placing a clown nose on his face
led him off on their merry way.

Once in my sleep
the fairies came
and took me to the North Pole,
which was no more than a trapdoor
in the ice under a midnight sky--
"Look at all the stars,"
I said gazing above me,
"You should see the stars below,"
said the Santa elf behind me
closing the trapdoor's lid.

A wizard in the fairy court
to show the nature of time
once thrust the head of a fairy prince
in a silver basin of water while
dropping a crystal ball on the marble floor,
but when the prince raised up his head
gasping for air, he found himself lost
in a empty desert of a foreign land
where he was forced to wander
for years an exile and hermit
with only owls and lions for company
as his beard grew long and his hair grew white
until finally he joined a caravan
to a holy city on pilgrimage
to make his peace with life at last,
and entering the high temple paused
at a fountain to purify himself,
but hearing the crash of broken glass
reared up quickly from the water
only to find himself young and dark haired
in the fairy court with shattered crystal at his feet
for such is the nature of time, oh Prince, in Fairyland.