cuelest guile and dismal fortitudes; to the sticking place a'pluck.

"They require that when a personage talks like an illustrated, gilt-edged, tree-calf, hand-tooled, seven-dollar Friendship's Offering in the beginning of a paragraph, he shall not talk like a negro minstrel in the end of it.  But this rule is flung down and danced upon in the Deerslayer tale."  -Mark Twain

"Much Madness is divinest Sense--

To a discerning Eye--

Much Sense--the starkest Madness--

'Tis the Majority

In this, as all, prevail--

Assent--and you are sane--

Demur--You're straightway dangerous--

And handled with a Chain."

-Emily Dickinson.

A war fought on the strangest brown carpet, that which was set in dye as Apocalypse Now brought forth the eulogy of the 1970s, that which was well-worn, second-hand, and trod to utter sh*t and back, perhaps the color of beshizzle, nizzle, perhaps the color,

and our interlocution the form; I fought a war, because the world would not set a stand for me.

Cruelest guile and dismal fortitudes beset those who had felt dewkiss and pleasant feverfew, horehound and such, and other niceties of the provinces.

Ah, yes--Mister Doug asked better diction of me, mayhap.

I was not barking at the moon, but conversely barking about the moon, the cheeseball of the heavens, the great home of little green men, of which sonnets were composed: lacrymose, and vinyl.