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