Tuesday, November 17, 2009


It's a hit and more, a ramshackle barrier

Buckle the chair, sooth its rough back, the talk near narrative blustering the bane
and forwarding its nest

__ Bend your bows, that way the hull grips tight its stead.

Mona shipping her shanty , the tune.

Trackless its the depot depth kills.

In a flurry rushing the boat past the view seen by many heard by sesame, its appearing pier.