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Brazil 
Payeen to a Twang
Derrida
Ore-Ida
potato.
If you dared,
I'd ask you
to go dig
up your ides under brown-
tubered skies.
where pitchforked
you will ask
Derrida?
Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone. Still round the corner there may wait
Tree and flower and leaf and grass, A new road or
🐟 -- 🥞 -- 😺 -- 🍇 -- 🔋 -- 🎈 -- 🏀 -- 🎫 -- 👳 -- 🚙 -- 👹 -- 🎍 -- 👾 -- ⚡ -- 📀