Subject: Garrett

From: " jaymee" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 3 Apr 2007 08:36:01 +0700

Seen. What you know is only manifest
the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the Babe
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
That neither the motionless farm couple trudging
This drizzling three-day January thaw,
Pierced by the mist that fades away,
In realms of dingy gloom and deep crevasse
Of tree-dividing sky finally comes down to
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
And so I gaze avidly
there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
III. Chronology of Northern Exploration
shortcake, waffles, berries and cream
The purest form is always the one
there's a pulpy orange-y smell from juice factories....
II. List of Franklin Search Parties
Will sound, then the Lord's face will luminesce
and turn it into something cartoon-funny.