a corvair swerves & clips the shoulder so they’re missing link —she calls it — & pretty things, he, in kick-up dust usual per byway — more than Many- Crows, who knows their names, ‘strut’, & that’s ‘curious’, ‘tho the shone one carries off the hooded falcon there, on mossy rock — the falling beesContinue reading “Clickety-Clack”