Don’t look askance upon my lowly stature on the ladder.
Your great disdain even to shake my hand
Says more about your character than mine.
If your nose turned up any more, the rain would soak your brain – but -
No great damage there.
I think your little grey cells have crawled,
Like embryonic spiders,
Into your deep, slow-sucking crevasses of sel...
Wednesday 6th March 2013 11:32 pm