Saspirilla is a simple drink. When mixed with ginger beer it is not too hard - both see its limits and tossed up with the udder ink and all calls. 45 is not a natural mutation. They say it is one number of a beast who lost its way among the sands and the mimsy gorotoves. I don't even want to see the permutations off another sodden mess flailing by a 45 to be of the waters to booming They wind the outings of beasts into a very strange world. Permutations do the work. They call it 2021, what evah that is. And what is its mainstay. A dead ringer, a poltice for a dipsedoodle!
The dipsedoodle who does long to be with the treetops - why? To mauls anything he or they say its not covid and its not into yer wind. Today at least it floweth somewhere or somewhen. In all honesty I cannot say. A barrel drifts into the shore on the waves. It appears to have several postulations standing on its back and moaning with the
wind. Why do they so do. 2020 had ended with a whimper - at best. The tail of that beast did't even get flipped. That thing we say - a 45 - is a shimmering disappearance, if we understand correctly. And we don't. OK - light earblingvling all over the universe as it bore in to the third cataract of the river and its sandstone and flippant walls. Why here? Why not there. The river seemed dry and It wasn't be that bad, aa we swim around below the whirpool and the ignatatitous boughs. Are they listening and feeling the haunts of the times. I NOT said the poor whippersnapper. He loved into mine eyes and creamed the loudest he could, before subsidizing into a box the grimmot haze flossing above the rutted train with its sails all afurled an' where did those go???
The wainscottotting of which floral messups are many - all of which aid THE WHIPPERSNAPPER, verymadd but aglow with all the colors of the pages now reflecting. I.do.not.listen - or call. I hear all and the house of its back crowing through the brambles in order to reach its side. A strange monolith - towering gray clouds whispering over the lanscape pulling a trireme along in its wake. So sad. The sails turn. The winches creak. I swoon - over to the dark side as explained elsewhere.
The TrUmpH. It slobbered, and crawlers throgut the masses and wonder monstrosities around the puffing three wheels and their amazing whistle typical of the bearing as they push the way through. Real? By what standard? What bearing? Does 22 take all the dragons into its belfry? Nah - cannot happen. My girth is toooo much and I crawl 'cross the lanes of the characters.' move away to the tune of the strings addressing the ALLRight as sung by the wandering minstrels before they jelled.
Minstrels wonder and wander through the halls as they t'ink annuder year. A decade - NOT - is aborning and the skies welcome our future".!! Saspirilla
Long retired. Activist still on progressive and democratic issues. Published LTE writer in local and major venues.
Worked as a Fed in USPC and later in HUD WDC for most of my career. Saw the worst of the housing industry in both for-profit (more...)
