Difference between revisions of "Page 80"

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  every [[morphyl]] man of us, pome by pome, falls back into this
 
  every [[morphyl]] man of us, pome by pome, falls back into this
 
  [[terrine]]: as it was let it be, says he! And it is as though where
 
  [[terrine]]: as it was let it be, says he! And it is as though where
  Agni araflammed and Mithra monished and Shiva slew as maya-
+
  [[Agni]] araflammed and [[Mithra]] monished and [[Shiva]] slew as maya-
 
  mutras the obluvial waters of our noarchic memory withdrew,
 
  mutras the obluvial waters of our noarchic memory withdrew,
 
  windingly goharksome, to some hastyswasty [[timberman]] torch-
 
  windingly goharksome, to some hastyswasty [[timberman]] torch-

Latest revision as of 12:26, 15 May 2020

TOC

Page 79 Page 81

there being no macadamised sidetracks on those old nekropolitan
nights in, barring a footbatter, Bryant's Causeway, bordered
with speedwell, white clover and sorrel a wood knows, which
left off, being beaten, where the plaintiff was struck, she
left down, as scavengers, who will be scavengers must, her
filthdump near the Serpentine in Phornix Park (at her time called
Finewell's Keepsacre but later tautaubapptossed Pat's Purge),
that dangerfield circling butcherswood where fireworker oh
flaherty engaged a nutter of castlemallards and ah for archer
stunned's turk, all over which fossil footprints, bootmarks,
fingersigns, elbowdints, breechbowls, a. s. o. were all succes-
sively traced of a most envolving description. What subtler
timeplace of the weald than such wolfsbelly castrament to will
hide a leabhar from Thursmen's brandihands or a loveletter,
lostfully hers, that would be lust on Ma, than then when ructions
ended, than here where race began: and by four hands of fore-
thought the first babe of reconcilement is laid in its last cradle
of hume sweet hume. Give over it! And no more of it! So pass
the pick for child sake! O men!
       For hear Allhighest sprack for krischnians as for propagana 
fidies and his nuptial eagles sharped their beaks of prey: and
every morphyl man of us, pome by pome, falls back into this
terrine: as it was let it be, says he! And it is as though where
Agni araflammed and Mithra monished and Shiva slew as maya-
mutras the obluvial waters of our noarchic memory withdrew,
windingly goharksome, to some hastyswasty timberman torch-
priest, flamenfan, the ward of the wind that lightened the fire that
lay in the wood that Jove bolt, at his rude word. Posidonius
O'Fluctuary! Lave that bloody stone as it is! What are you
doing your dirty minx and his big treeblock way up your path?
Slip around, you, by the rare of the ministers'! And, you, take
that barrel back where you got it, Mac Shane's, and go the way
your old one went, Hatchettsbury Road! And gish! how they
gushed away, the pennyfares, a whole school for scamper, with
their sashes flying sish behind them, all the little pirlypettes!
Issy-la-Chapelle! Any lucans, please?