Sat May 2 12:08:15 2009 (No prophet, fear)

Here is one
of these features,
with the bleak
walls and turrets, and
while speculating
upon the
beach eaten smooth, white
feathers in the
garden, if not
accurately, thus:
I am no
prophet, fear.



Texts:
Edgar Allen Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher
T.S. Eliot, Poems