Buffalo saw the Indian ride. A Bigfoot, Cheyenne, Arapaho Tide. Indian rode the buffalo plain before it was lost to a sea of grain. Chasing the great, black, buffalo cloud,
The sun is out on the penguin line. Their sea is a china blue. Their suits are pressed for the day ahead as the fish train comes into view. Then, Over the painted rocks they hop and
The Shire horse came out of the English earth. Out of the muddy field and the furrowed land. Shaped by the endless pulling of the plough. Shaped by the turning farmer’s turning hand.
Miss Dolores Argi Bargi, Working for the F.B.I., spotted Haribald the Hooligan in Galatasaray. “I’ll catch him in a flash!” she said “I’m such a super spy!”