What story would you like to hear, Mr. Lamb?
Are you a real lamb?
Would you like to hear of Webbers?
Here is the Story of Alice:
The Queen wants to have a baby,
That’s why she’s kissing her hand.
The Mad Habit is pouring specklish tea.
Finally, the Mad Habit and the Queen go to sleep,
But she’s not looking at him.
He’s just pouring the milk.
Goodnight, Mr. Lamb,
Have a nice dream.
Sleep like a lamb.
Don’t rough scream
A rough sound was polished until it became a smoother sound, which was polished until it became music. Then the music was polished until it became the memory of a night in Venice when tears of the sea fell from the Bridge of Sighs, which in turn was polished until it ceased to be and in its place stood the empty home of a heart in trouble. Then suddenly there was sun and the music came back and traffic was moving and off in the distance, at the edge of the city, a long line of clouds appeared, and there was thunder, which, however menacing, would become music, and the memory of what happened after Venice would begin, and what happened after the home of the troubled heart broke in two would also begin.