"Bruce Holland Rogers - A Common Night" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rogers Bruce Holland)

"Anna!" he shouted into the mouthpiece.
 Only there wasn't any mouthpiece, just a knot hole in the tree that he had wrapped his arms around.
An orange glow came and went, and a voice from behind Julian said, "Bad connection?"
He turned. He saw nothing but trees.
"Bad connections won't do you any good, you know," said the voice. "In this world, who you know is
a big part of who you are." Then the orange glow returned, allowing Julian to make out an enormous
caterpillar sitting on a tree branch and smoking a long hookah. The glow came from the tobacco burning
in the bowl.
"And by the way," the Caterpillar went on, "Who are you?"
When Julian didn't answer, the Caterpillar said, "Well, speak up!"
"I'm dreaming," Julian concluded.
"Yes, yes, of course you are," said the Caterpillar. "Or else someone is dreaming you. You can't tell
until the very end! But in the meantime, you might be civil."
Julian pinched himself, or dreamed that he pinched himself. The pain felt real enough, and the
Caterpillar was still there.
"I'm Julian Preston," he said, giving in. "Professor of English."
"Professor in English, you mean," said the Caterpillar.
"Of English."
"Don't be rude. I heard you, just a moment ago, profess to be Julian Preston, and you didn't do it in
Latin."
"I mean that I teach poetry."
"I'm not surprised," said the Caterpillar. "Poetry has a thing or two to learn. It has more feet than I do
and they're terribly difficult to keep track of. 'A was an archer, who shot at a frog; B was a butcher, and
had a great dog.' When you say that one, you ought to beat your chest."
"Why?"
"It's written in Pectorals."
"That's not the right term."
"No?"
"No, but at the moment the correct term slips my mind."
"So you say. You've only professed in English to know poetry. I think you ought to repeat some.
Know any Dickinson?"
"Of course," Julian said, and he recited:
Because I could not stop for Toast-

Toast kindly stopped for me-

And brought along a shapely Egg-

And Jam and Juice and Tea.

We chatted long-Toast knows so much

And speaks of all it knows,

Such matters as the Feat of Rhymes

And whether Verse has Toes-

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