Monday, October 6, 2014

On Litmus Prime, continued

On Litmus Prime the fictile stood the pilled glebe,

attentive to the argon in their 
plastic lungs.

1 comment:

  1. It was evening and the smooth active badgers
    Were scratching and boring holes into the hillside,
    All unhappy were the parrots
    And the grave turtles squeaked out.


Leave me a note.