Raising the Admiral Frankly, I blame the goldfish, but who else could man a fleet so far from sea? Apart from me? It came to nothing. No, to less than less than that. The Iowans were waiting, and now Nebraska’s burning. Oh farewell, farewell, the endless fields of corn, where I dreamed of ships and …
Joanna Preston: Tasmanaut Poet
A Dark Feathered Art 