One thing that literature would be
Would be a more restricted employm
metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Gre
Can’t seem just to say that anythi

Foreigners are people somewhere el
Natives are people at home;
If the place you’re at
Is your habitat,
You’re a foreigner, say in Rome.

The rhino is a homely beast,
For human eyes he’s not a feast.
Farwell, farewell, you old rhinoce
I’ll stare at something less prepo

Praise the spells and bless the ch
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,

Song of the Open Road
I think that I shall never see
A billboard as lovely as a tree.
Perhaps unless the billboards fall
I’ll never see a tree at all.

My friends all know that I am shy
But the chipmunk is twice and shy
He moves with flickering indecisio
Like stripes across the television
He’s like the shadow of a cloud,

I’ve never seen an abominable snow
I’m hoping not to see one,
I’m also hoping, if I do,
That it will be a wee one.

Adam
Had’em

I have a bone to pick with fate,
Come here and tell me girly,
Do you think my mind is maturing l
Or simply rotting early.

Behold the duck.
It does not cluck.
A cluck it lacks.
It quacks.
It is specially fond