The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling.
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

-W.Shakespeare

Monday, 23 September 2013

Queen of Gasoline

She's dancin'
                     a trail 
                     of gasoline, 
She's smilin'
                     behind the flame
She's playin'
                     with her hair
She's twirlin'
                      the very air
                      burning, dancing
      She's the 
     Queen of Gasoline.
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