The derby flapped in the wind, as ’twas s’posed to. It needed to: it had steam to release.
In the core o’ the tipi raged a fire that ne’er slept, & whose splaying fringes pulled the turbines which pulled the other turbines, which pulled the other turbines, & so on, which spun the tipi’s wheels & pushed it onward.
& onward it had to go, if it wanted to continue being able to go @ all. On its skirt spread the shadows o’ its pursuant: the spike-studded yurt.