He was Popeye the Sailor Man - at least in Picture book and poem the mind falling from a drooping ledge, thrust of twilight though working up to the bargaining edge of words ... ...
Many devils are in woods, in waters, in wilderness and in dark, pooly places ready to hurt. . . people, some are also in thick, black clouds. ? Martin Luther ...
He sat with no more compunction than an eel fish big-faced, bloated, the complexion of a beehive - a dragnet of emotions crammed into a tumbler upended in water. ...
The sun is a burning magnet on the water. Durable, our boat is a sizable pretzel in the arms of the bay. Warmth with contortion, the clash of passions tug the funnelled swooned water. ...
As a child, all common sense decreed pirates wore dear teeth - enamel white, with tusks to rout an elephant (the result from eating carrot sticks, I was told) - not a solitary doubt clutched my mind...
The Elysian fields gained commensurate with ability quiet and shimmering in the sun; varied realms inverted islands the angry blessed ones - thrice born with the option to survive...
Today surprised me like a red fox blurting out of an October thicket - empty, dry, the burst of its energy camouflaged much as that fox, solemn and cold, biding his time till he thought I passed.
And like a cobbler at a bench I return to my musings why Kensington Gardens with its grand, theatrical entrance is gateway to London's poor - why the stiff Victoria and Albert...