Editor's Note:

Welcome to Issue Twenty Seven of CSR! By now, you regular readers know my baby likes a serengeti yo-yo and hates metaphor sandwiches. It craves chocolate bailout cookies and makes cute little sounds when it sits on a bed nails. Baby has an uncanny ability to turn an avalanche of ordinary shoelaces into Middle East ceasefires. We both like pop-cicle allegories and flowers that aren't plastic. Issue Twenty Seven is anything but a vase. This month is filled with hybrid photographs, along with a jar of muse-muddled art. Add to that, a group of sword-eating poets, an intriguing music maker and one magical book review and you've got the possibility for a worldwide salmonella outbreak. Trust me, when you finish this issue you'll feel like tar on a tin roof. Or diaper rash. Either way, this issue will remind you of strawberry patches. So forget about your painful limbaugh and get busy...