My sage has spoken to me of dreams in my head. That will come to life if my body can just grow old and not dead. My own love, in the Summer, a laud. No work to do, not a lien to place on Hod.
Oh great Sage of the Midwestern states. Come seek with souls to hymn and enunciate.
My great horse is named ol’ Sage. He eats locusts on a plate with mayonnaise.
Oh great Sage of my ocean. You are a great and good river flowing. All of your name I will soon need knowing. When I gain the key to your foreboding. And your grand waters make us out for growing.
I wish in any age to tread your waters. To await the day and return of your daughters. ‘Tis no shame to pay for a passage across with barter. So I took my lass to the riverside and there a movie I shot of her. I don’t possess your soul though I may be a martyr.
A real big river is on my mind. Rainfall is a very good sign. Way up North along the pines. Lazy in a stream with a boat’s incline. A levee on a way with sleeps to cull in winning wine.
Personal Writings 