in an old chamber softly lit

 Say, the weather down here

 tunnels and fissures of Stair Hole

 door and doughboys used to play before

 squalling burden to Hipsters Circle


 brats to R-rated movies circle

 working the sails squalling the confused

 nearly out the front door circle

 open that door!" Jim lunged


 where wild drums, squalling sax, tuned

 for a wind--but full tunnels and fissures

 noise, and going on?" he shouted

 sound of the ten squalling babies


 As he waited, and as the cold

 my coat collar against the wind. Old


 Compiled by googlepoem 10/14/2004 1:01:44 AM GMT





Modified Version

Say, the weather down here

tunnels and fissures through Stair Hole

where door and dough boys play before

the squalling burden of Hipsters Circle



Brats to R-rated movies circle

working the stalls squalling the confused

nearly out the front door muscle

open that door!" Jim lunged



Where wild drums, squalling sax, tuned

for wind tunnels and fissures

that noise, going on?" he shouted

to the sound of ten squalling babies



As he waited, and as the cold

my coat collar raised the wind. Old