Giant Sheep Cloud Water Bottle Music

Giant Sheep Cloud Water Bottle Music

Giant Pilchard carried 'cross his shoulders a heifer to the biting nose of the thin horse-head ship. Some gold which he'd taken from a sleeping monk. And an oak tree. And a wall.
The wall he wrapped around his waste like a belt of bullets. And they rattled in tall wind and high wave: chattering grinding gray teeth looped together by rust and wire.
He entered a warren and came out in a glade kicking out a sleeping gray rabbit before him.
Climbing a tor stuck his sword in a wall.
Played a fiddle.
But the fiddle could play itself. An automatic fiddle. A fluent wily fiddle.
He played solitaire.
The computer collapses...
sank as a pillow does under long neck and head.
As he slept he fell
Woke in a stream.
A bridge for geese gambling.
Under a rainbow of only three stripes.
The sun coming out caught a Massey pulling.
Washing flew from off the line and the pantaloons walking in air animated by the burling wind.
The tractor was related to the plough in the only way a field was connected to worms that hung from the beak of the seagull taking off to the sea that lapped on the broken tooth rock that cornered the side of the bay which fronted four sleeping isles where sheep in wool baubles lay.
Wind lifted them skyward. Sun behind and darkening rain fell in scattered fists to the tune of water bottles played being filled to various depths.