A clapperjack of freedom flaunts it's foliage.

11 June 2005. 02.17 PM.

...and landslid with rocket drop,
the lamming tiller all turned up and greatly ablast
the cabin glass flushed green and dived fast. Shocked, the old Artillerator,
grabbing up his stick and his hat
pressed accidentally button B and launched
the inside into the outside." Great

rocks of ages, the utterances
of sages, segmented, logged and annotated rages,
grape shots of silk, ten thousand bookcases of unlabeled milk,
prepopsterous claims from the residents of Dilk." Inevitable

pages
of complaint followed
so much so that when they were all compiled up
they reached right up into nothing less than a book
upon which the shorter people of Huck could stand
in order to take a better look
at the nearby Faraway Land of Sand. And god,

tripping, dropped his tray of lettered bricks, spilling
the six hundred secret words across the floor and out the door.
And so it's been from that day 'til this,
mans single task to collect up and reassemble those original bricks
back into their original blocks of order. But often,
much more fun, creativity and invention, has come from
an incorrect assembly of those blocks. Just look at the Griffin
and the awkward way it eats glass.

"Say, May, is he talking DNA."
"I don't know, Joe, though he may be though."