George Plumb . . . bought a site measuring just over an acre in 1962; a
year later, he set to work with 5 000 bottles. A former carpenter, he built
his little five-roomed house out of every conceivable type of bottle,
collected from local industries and donated by neighbors and visitors. Over
the years, he used a total of 200 000 bottles. The structures around the
main building included a Leaning Tower of Pisa, a Taj Mahal, a well, and a
giant bottle of Coke, all constructed of bottles and cement. Plumb
surrounded his buildings with animals, some of them sculpted inn the
gardens, paths between low walls led past flower beds to a small waterfall,
water-lily and fish ponds, a totem pole, and a small studio. After his
death the complex was run as a low-grade tourist attraction, but it has
since fallen into disrepair.
-- Angelika Taschen, ed., Fantasy Worlds (Cologne: Taschen,
2007), p. 138.
Star? Not I! . . . He too has a wee bagel still up to here held. . . .
Sample hot Edam in a pan. Iâ€™m a rotten digger â€“ often garden I plan, I agreed; All agreed? Aye, bore ensign; Iâ€™d a veto â€“ I did lose us site. Wool to hem us? No, cotton. Site pen in acacias or petals a last angel bee frets in. . . .
Vendor pays: I admire vendee, his pots net roe. Nine dames order an opal fan; Iâ€™ll ask cold log fire vendor to log igloo frost. . . . Cat? No, Iâ€™m a dog; Iâ€™m a sad loyal pet. . . .
Hot pages are in a mag, nor will I peer, familiar tat, so lewd . . .
Samâ€™s a name held in a flat, or, sir, bedsit. I wonder, is it illicit ore? No ties? A bit under? Retarded? Is 'owt amiss? Iâ€™m on pot; not so Cecil, a posh guy a hero met. A red date was not to last so Cecil sat. . . .
Part on rose? Itâ€™s a petal. Define metal: Tin is . . . (I gulp!) can! . . .
No, draw a pot now, do! Of wary rat in a six ton tub. . . .
Semitone, not a tone, radios emit; no, on tape; elsewhere itâ€™s a tone. . . .
No, it is opposite. Yaks I rode wore hats, albeit on deityâ€™s orders. Rats age more held in a trap, nip and I know it â€“ set no cage now. . . .
Macaroni, rats, as a hoot, tie. I vomit on rats.