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



Hear the curfew blowing,
Hear the curfew blowing,
In the coal black midnight,
Hear the curfew blow.
— Woody Guthrie, When The Curfew Blow

A Plate of Washi Eggs

Tell me, could you ever tell the secret of the sea?
Of these high rolling waves along the shore?
The footprints of the lovers that come here to love,
By the tides washed away forever more
— Woody Guthrie, Secret Of The Sea