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'A gaping silken dragon,/Puffed by the wind, suffices us for God./We, not the City, are the Empire's soul:/A rotten tree lives only in its rind.'

Friday, 2 August 2013


.... still arriving, freshly minted, at the depot:

While the previous draft begins to take toy soldierly shape:

And there is beer to be drunk:

New journals to be perused:

And new books about the not so long ago past to be read:

Yes, Alf R. Ont has a small holiday.