St. Moritz
never looked so
octagon.
The rotten fruit
in the bay
displace a certain
muster-master in that
great Rendes-vous,
fireside.
Bleak omens chide
any demagorgue, but
the weakest history
is the Arenaviridae
whose lucky
or glad stone
comets
commonly what
is called
away
to carry
Kipling in a kilta
disguised in a
black wig
and
holding a single specimen
of Malaxis cylindrostachya
or Adder Mouth Orchid
in his yellowing
and crumbly
cheese claw
he called
Diana.
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Irrony Observes The Earthing.