https://themarkettavern.ca
It’s proof of aliens, gods and little impish fey;
At the bleeding edge of reality,
On the paths of the dead.
To king Solomon’s mines.
On the highway on top of the world.
To the Kingdom of Prester John,
Where the sun rises in the East.
At the Market Tavern,
Back when Tigers used to smoke.
And dream of ancient gods,
Snoring at the gates of dawn.
Hallucinating the fey,
Digging diamonds and gold.
In exchange for the crystal tears of a human soul.
About the Creator
Richard Thompson
Lives on the bleeding edge of reality. at https://themarkettavern.ca and https://whiterabbitt.picfair.com It is also where the sun goes at the winter solstice. Hallucinating the fey; at the gates of dawn; in the Kingdom of Prester John
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