Page 112
By Jack Joseph Smith
Fettered finding feelings furrowed in a cheak.
He found his eyes streight staring. Sharply a
toung tore away the last traces of a moving web.
Torn bewween two he laced his differences across
a memeory field of soft laid autum weed. To the
toes he felt a swril filling lives pondered up
too. As in the way of fluttering pond fish on
their way to bait.
That's pretty crazy
mr. smith!