inscribedcorpse you are the dream of a dream writing in bittertongue to

survive dead buriedtongue vagamonde carrying your magicbaggage

zaubermappe to carry out the defense and illustration of this dead tongue

this ill-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 one night the nultimate in noctober or nonvember

or perhaps dismember though a never nihiliad of januarian vessels

newmoons worldend finisterre in your port and hence don’t depart or transport

partition report disentangle this macarroniad eviltongue before the

portogallian gibber-jabber esperantoes the brasilisk and this brothelbabeloire

boils over hodgepodgepapers easily your plot is simple

the simplest subplot but still someone could mention didaskalia

a word that rhymes with alea but certainly not distinguishing between

motif or theme or appealing to mythemes fabulemes or novelemes or

losing oneself in pursuit of the best translation for récit or the distinguishment

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 humps are so from the womb only set straight

in the tomb this is no matter of equivalegends but elusive edge ends dig and ye

shall find only the writing hand that digs simplicitude's simplicity

simplicissimo in sancta simplicitas put aside litter-ature leave the

belles-letters to the belle-latrines and note in this language

thread there's a thread of language like a rose is a rose like

prose is a prose there's a voyage thread there's a message heard and

in this marginal margin there's at least marginalia stop already these

boring stories tattling tales babble rabble and disbelieve histrionic

histories of stories and keep this loss at last at best the rest we'll

see a bottle in the sea can be the clue wine bottle of bad brews

of live divas gift bottle the future foresees through dark via

delle botteghe oscure and when the tide is high you'll be coming by

morning in the sky you begin coming be and when night

is dead you'll be full of laugh for it's lovely and light write and read

this minussong of yours minusstory of yours without meanness or paltry pomp 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 what i pay not to see two but three if i play i play all on the three

and i still have a say once upon this tale is a simple one it's a story

to surprise i don't tell because i can't tell because i don't want to tell

telling the told sun tallying the tallied sea tilling told a tale a tall tale of

earth sun sea and air my chant won't tell my tale just chants a tune