“HE WROTE THE HISTORY BOOK,” IT SAID
There! You shed a ray of whimsicality on a mask of profundity so terrific that I have been dumbfounded by it oftener than I care to say. The book? Titles are chaff.
Authentically brief and full of energy, you contribute to your father’s legibility and are sufficiently synthetic. Thank you for showing me your father’s autograph.
YOU ARE LIKE THE REALISTIC PRODUCT
OF AN IDEALISTIC SEARCH FOR GOLD
AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW
Hid by the august foliage and fruit of the grape vine, twine your anatomy round the pruned and polished stem, chameleon. Fire laid upon an emerald as long as the Dark King’s massy one, could not snap the spectrum up for food as you have done.