1510.2
How happy is the little stone
As hard as Heads of solid Bone
Something like a Mental drone
That rambles through this Sphere alone—
Its subtext but a muffled—Moan—
When often kicked—no Mercy shown.
None of accruing Moss is mown
When it romps—a Rolling Stone—
A simple little—solo—Clown
Of Bullshit’s elemental—Brown.
Emily Dickinson, “How happy is the little stone”
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Ralph
Last edited by RCL; 08-20-2023 at 03:47 PM.
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