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Day creeps down
The moon is creeping up
The sun is a corbeil of flowers the moon Blanche Places there, a bouquet
Ho-ho

The plunging limbers over the shattered track Racketed with their rusty freight, Stuck out like many crowns of thorns, And the rusty stakes like sceptres old To stay the flood of brutish men Upon our brothers dear
The wheels lurched over spra...

Amidst the too much that we buy and throw away and the far too much we wrap it in, the bear found a few items of special interest—a honeydew rind, a used tampon, the bone from a leg of lamb
He’d rock back lightly onto his rear paws and slash ...