[continued from previous message]   
      
   of being beaten against everything   
   lay down on the fagot pile.   
   "Let me ascend to heaven," it snarled.   
   Presently wood smoke rose   
   from the poet's chimney.   
      
   Ruth Stone   
   from "In the Dark"   
   Used by permission of the publishers.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)