"Chapter VII The Hunting of the Snark.

Whoever shares innthe chase deserves the proize. Each wagon edges towards the clearing where thevfire has already been lighted by neighbors.

hese animals distinguish us by our smells. This one has a red smell, this a green, this a purple. They are all alive. They have no ambition to destroy us.

e sit around the campfire and sing songs of snark-hunting. One of us has been to Africa and knows the dangers of what we seek. Our clors and our smells glisten in the smoke toward the waiting flock.

What we have said or sung or tearfully remembered can disappear in the waiting fire. W are snark-hunters. Brave, as we disappear into the clkearing."

From The Heads of the Town Up to the Aether by Jack Spicer.