the toad road licked my wheels like a sabre
winds of the marsh lightly blew
stone jars stacked with stars on her shoulders
hunters of pity she slew.

chariots of silk she rode
stallions of gold she owned.

a mad mage with a maid on his eyebrows
hunteth the realm for a god
who could teach him the craft of decanting
the glassy entrails of a frog.

the bard of my birth with his ballet
walked the wild worlds in the chase
for the black chested canary
who as a moose can sing bass.