what a pot of lucky stew we bubble now-
the goat, the dwarf, the bitch, the shrew.
they crow across the barnyard's raucous stubble,
where hay is frost and chortles dew:
a mission of confidence clanged in cast iron,
the lid will silence the chosen few.
a frothing banquet of angled limbs
for this a solstice is simmering too.
Friday, February 27, 2009
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You have a very good understanding of projecting images in ones mind. I am thinking you have very good eye sight in your own mind's eye.
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