Saturday, June 20, 2009


His very honor Babeş-Bolyai, his hair soup-bowl tonsured, sits under the sky reading his newspaper. On the front page, written in soft even strokes, he reads ‘wife fuck another man who has syllepsis’, the return address 28 Ilford Redbridge Bilbao, Pais Vasco. On the back page an advertisement for a lithic tool announces, Dig It, $27:95, scabbard not included. Standing on the shoulders of colossus’s he looked out on the day, the sky knitting a gray blanket of tattered clouds. Babeş-Bolyai, the very, very, was honored by persons far and wide who held trickery and bad faith in high esteem. Accolades, well-wishes, praise, homage, reverence, high admiration, worship, awe, veneration, astonishment, amazement, admiration, rapt adoration, toadying sycophancy, some fawning and sweet talking, others bestowing flattery and adulation, he was held in the highest esteem, this nasty venal man. …el rodanxó Boc Mulligan aparegué al capdamunt de l'escala read the banner over Palgrave’s Concertina Repair Shop. The Cartagena bullfinches are in cahoots with the Murcia Siguatepeque Comayagua Agde Languedoc-Roussillon larks, the bullfinches ahead 27½ to 27.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz

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