A thousand leagues in leather tongued squall, Booted feet are ponderous-- inside toes Are wiggling, wiggling, snaking, stalling- Over the binding ivy sea. Useless are the bucket tails, that step, Taking in your padded sole. The pale Cooling pool- jump like dandy shellfish, Or tread in callous silver pail. A muted journey, fabled, solemn; Take the magicky sleeve-tails and swing, Swing a peacock marble tail, under In lofty pieces, blue and white- The mottled, dry and musty travels, Streaking orange, craters-- lordly; Through tongue'd boot you thrust, a stepless Hanging steeple door-- open wide, Stand! Be beaten by rainy pounding, My soggy, tanning brush whip friends, are Laughing, laughing, at my sour old mouth, As I wring my tepid cotton.