Thomas Adams

(Sedalia, Mo.)

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  • Faeo Lyre Clive (7/25/2013 9:57:00 PM)

    Hark! I limn in fine...we/this academe interfused, sees the counterchanging hand [Thomas Adams] on the scepter. 'gainst all clamant ataraxy, I the cup-bearer dare not mind the gavel's heaviness but Rhadamanthine, lift it to sentence in fine that the claustral Thomas Adams, is of the blood in all entire a'outrance - who therefore owe us an amende honorable for his cachination-in-clarion. I dare asperse not this gravid asphodel Thomas-in-gloriole amid us, who should by all means endue we the nescient epigoni. This clou [Thomas] above all semblable, the stentor-in-wellspring adds chord to my Lyre and cincture to my draff couched in phobia. He thus sent me to the corybantic but crapulent stupor. I am a crescent exalté and shall exuberant, fecundate. Inflame us, oh ponderable Adams, by the honeydew even; for our unknowing shall ingurgate and abide the oriflamme. I suppose it's not the trahison des clercs, oh redivivus Shakespeare...my book for you is yetl.....may the volution continue. Kudos, Bard.

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'Untitled'

Those very stares begin at dawn and winter has a hold.
I frown the gust across the lawn, not bundled for the cold.
The passive change I might subject is subtle say the least.
For saving me has churned awhile by mother and her priest.
To see this world but black and white would frighten me a bit.
I'd frolic round more aimlessly and have no time to sit.
I fear to add some color here might bind me in the cost.
Until the day togetherness would cure my being lost.

[Hata Bildir]