Experimental, impressionistic sub-paragraph tumblin' (think obstsalat)


If he’s in some battle slain
I will die, when the moon doth wane
And if he’s drowned in the deep salt sea
I’ll be true to his memory
— John Riley

Going Up?

The water is wide, I cannot cross o’er.
And neither have I, The wings to fly.
Give me a boat, that can carry two.
And both shall row, My true love and I.
— The Water Is Wide

Flights of fancy