... the road, our lungs well-nigh spent With inhaling earth’s dry and turgid air? But no, dear one. We shall take them with us, Your Brother Ass, my Sister Mule, Become Brother Tiger, Sister Panther, And we shall prowl in play through jungled vines And romp and roll over plains, Our cries of joy like lightning, Our shouts thunder, Our secret glee a hurricane.

http://rastonwinchel.livejournal.com/19881.html
(Cached)
0 links
Published: 9 months ago (Mon, 13 Oct 2008 08:58:08 PDT); 4992 bytes
|