Saturday, November 21, 2009

bring these



Bring these and those apportion the wary tarrier and its cap of muzzle. Jill's root is the winsome fair, its gruesome beat. Not the hallowed air of loves, but the bivouacked hearth of wife her lean plucky is its harbinger. That was the forest is full.




Hurry the men! hold the harbour we've almost found its word.

Port in site they sainted her.