anchor one on the roof sleek unwieldy porkers were grunting in the ribs and old gunpowder round the blade and glance off at the castle keep where the clawfooted chairs and dark mahogany tables shone like mirrors andirons with their heads under their wings or buried in the face of hans van ripper and thus gallantly mounted issued forth like a dreaming sound in his day if we may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor under the land (C) 2026 Shane Cooper follow links in the poem, or start new path...