ayaladn

‘thru the hooves & dune abit, batter’d, but the handle, grip & sandals fit the shiftin’ o’er the traction, by the moon, I’ll wait

the boats were flotsam the breakers’ captizin’, jotsum & zinc, so, how’s the washun’

sure the buoyed & flooded mingle fore a stranger land than that, not knowin’ wherein go, I’d chew on many roots and things, cap-side & middle

somehow salad & potatoes interrupt at haversack & himalaya, someone said wide-wale, I guess on rye

if newZland pumice floats to lalaland, mani-pedicurists take to boats, single filin’