by uleer eks
the carcass of a goat lay bloated and snug bulgy-eyed under the kitchen sink- and there nightly it rose under bulbous moon and sunk finally under grey sun anew withering wearily where a cactus grove grew. nature coiled tightly round the tarnished taps and the sink sang proudly from its hideous drain- big baratone notes which pulled and strained in the throes of deathly pain. an d soon words pattered over the tin sink where once more the bright moon rose and little mice breathed and snored in the depths of the cactus grove.
