“[I]t is the wine that leads me on, the wild wine that sets the wisest man to sing at the top of his lungs, laugh like a fool—it drives the man to dancing…it even tempts him to blurt out stories better never told.”
The dragons follow us around,
Sneaking in and out of the mist,
Shrieking nonsense, a silent sound,
Lonely and hungry to be kissed.
They are two of nine ancient worms
(A magic number in godly terms):
Each is older than the other;
Each is no dragons’ brother;
Each has a near toothless maw;
Each has lost all but one claw.
Out of this frightless paucity,
They have this one audacity:
Yolky eyes loll in scaly lids,
Laughing at our egos and ids.
Marg and Gough:
- Ignore career advice from established writers: We don't know anything about breaking in today.