excriptedcorpse you are the dream of a dream writing in bittertongue to
survive your dead buriedtongue vagamonde carrying your magicbaggage
zaubermappe to carry out the defense and illustration of this dead tongue
this dark-starred luck this hand that cuts the umbilicord that stuck me to the
door the diffuse degustibus non est and in one thousandpages there will be no
one none of nothings who one night the nultimate in noctober or nonvember
or perhaps dismember though a never nihiliad of januarian newmoon
vessels will make port in your finisworld and hence don’t depart or transport
partition report disentangle this macarroniad in eviltongue before the
portogallian jibber-jabbering esperantoes the brasilisk and this brothelbabeloire
boils over hodgepodgepapers easily your plot is simple and
the subplots even simpler but still someone could mention didascalias
a word ending in alias but the right thing is not to distinguish between
motif or theme or appeal to mythemes fabulemes or novelemes or to
lose oneself in pursuit of the best translation for récit or the distinguo between
nouvelle and novella nor is it useful to know whether fable or fairy tale is
the fair term for the russian skaz let silkworms worry themselves
sick with their threads and those who have humps from the womb are only set straight
in the tomb this is no matter of equivalegends but delenda elusive edge-ends dig and ye
shall find only the hand that writes that digs simplicitude's simplicity
simplicissimo in sancta simplicitas put aside litter-ature leave
belles-letters to the belle-latrines and note that in this language
thread there's a thread of language that a rose is a rose like a
prose is a prose there's a voyage thread there's a message read and
in this marginal margin there's at least some margin-alia stop already these
boring stories tattling tales babble rabble and disbelieve histrionic
histories of stories and keep this loss at least at last at best the rest we'll see
a bottle in the sea can be the clue bottle-maker of bad brews
of live divas gift bottle the future foresees through the dark via
delle botteghe oscure and when the tide is high you'll be coming by
and in the morning sky you begin coming be and when night is
dead you'll be full of laughs for it's lovely and light and write and read this
minussong of yours minusstory of yours without meanness or paltry pomp this canto
this chant now turned a stubborn romp not done for less but who's broke can't
come if my train is no gain if the boat's full of leaks it's the future
that speaks die of old age for sure but i fight in the night by the skin
of my shin by the spin of my fin did so much died so much is my fate
for i know that i pay all to see if i lose on the two i play all on the three
and i still have a chance once upon this tale is a simple one it's a story
to surprise i don't tally because i can't tell because i don't want to tell
tuning the sun tune tallying the tallied sea telling a told tune tale tall
of earth sun sea and air my tune won't tell a tale just chants a tune