I Can't Even Make Up A Rhyme

A Few Days Back Someone Sent Me Two Feathers. Two Bird's Feathers In A Sheet Of Note-paper With A Coronet, And Fastened With A Seal. Sent From A Place A Long Way Off; From One Who Need Not Have Sent Them Back At All. That Amused Me Too, Those Devilish Green Feathers.

Small Jerks Began To Appear In My Legs, My Walk Became Unsteady Precisely Because I Wanted It To Be Smooth.

Earth And Sea Merged, The Sea Tossed Itself In The Air In A Fantastic Dance, Into The Shapes Of Men And Horses And Tattered Banners. I Stood In The Lee Of An Overhanging Rock And Thought Of Many Things.

Rather Than Admire The Mediocre Great Men Over Whom Passersby Nudge Each Other In Awe, I Venerate The Young, Unknown Geniuses Who Die In Their Teens, Their Souls Shattered - Delicate, Phosphorescent Glowworms That One Must See To Know They Really Did Exist.

But Now It Was Spring Again, And Spring Was Almost Unbearable For Sensitive Hearts. It Drove Creation To Its Utmost Limits, It Wafted Its Spice-laden Breath Even Into The Nostrils Of The Innocent.