Wilyem Clark
05-24-2016, 04:16 PM
The choice is not felicitous:
To drown in the mud of the lower lawn,
Or to haul oneself onto that arid plain,
the sidewalk sheet,
There to bake to a rust-colored crisp
And become the prey of birds and caravans
Of ants, or victim of indiscriminate soles,
The blind destroyers of minuscule things.
To drown in the mud of the lower lawn,
Or to haul oneself onto that arid plain,
the sidewalk sheet,
There to bake to a rust-colored crisp
And become the prey of birds and caravans
Of ants, or victim of indiscriminate soles,
The blind destroyers of minuscule things.