The cellphone, which is poetry, flies into the fullest empyrean, reeking of dragon that rips off archetypal.
That cellphone hits on something really flame from the mouth, wily eyes, ravage landscape sort of prime dizzying effect. That phone of something certainly has made its depth charge as much as flying thru the air scary. /We need id and ego on the boat/, says captain in charge of what's that ahead it looks strange and possibly dangerous call in the troops. The people want poetry near the ledge, almost owing to something that they read about archetypally, hence the dragon. Dragon lore fits prime eddy of literary sequence threshed from the straw base stubblefield of which the dragon knows so much. Dragon makes a struggle of poetry into the air above the village where those who till and reap and run around in circles cite other examples of similar scary times, well-based in times of lore. What's up with this cellphone that needs to be poetry all the time, even leaving the church school or movie theatre and tell your friends just that? The poetry, which is ardent cellphone in the need of passing quick text messages to the one over there, giggly, is something thru the space of time. The cellphone, prominent and you can tell that the camera will be a boost to sales, absolutely any moment could be photographed sent and saved. What's better than to prove poetry as a vehicle for the survival of cellphones, personally together as we get around to studying some theory in between poems and dragon attacks? Finally a document named poetry comes into the forest of cellphones where dragons lurk mighty and prevailing wind, but the poetry public, they are not quite so loose.
