A pullet blue sky: commode chain given a fair to middling jerk, a colostomy of neither this nor that, that nor this. I am the commode pot, the a posterior, posterior. Adman Bloom, mollycoddler of Sears and Roebuck, skillet-fried with Paddy’s and Parnell, a most delectable treat, not for the faint of stomach or kidney, a colossus of import and Liffey. Gad morning, I have awoken.
A cobblestone stone gray sky, a piecemeal meal of clouds scuttling across it, the sky, the mutton gray bleak sky, sky; a mal de teat sky, a confluence of gray marrow bone sky, boiled in the same-such pot with a day-old soup bone, sky day today sky, sky, a cobblestone stone gray sky. I am tired of looking agape at the sky, this gray marrow soup bone sky; a sky scudded with mealy piecemeal clouds, a potboilers sky, sky. What has Nietzsche taught me, I ask myself, me-my-myself me? That intellectual blindness is a curse, an excuse for imperialism and bad manners. That metaphysics is unreasonable, alchemy, an excuse for intellectual blindness, a curse on humanism, a supernatural free-for-all, principia algebraic, mathematical trifoliate(ism). That Freud was right, that the unconscious is the seat of the soul, the ex-machines-dues, the sabot that jigs the apparatus, the ghoul in the contraption, the chive in the hetman. Allium schoenoprasum.
Jawbone biscuits, currants and arrowroot, a slough-pump rum-cake, packet of crisps; seedy soppy loll; Howth Head penance, Graveclothes coiled in Guinness, a stone bowled into the rope of the sea.
Odysseus and Mall Ox, these are troubled time, troubled indeed. Here I sit trumpeting through my ass, a symphony of flutes, oboes and a coalman’s spinneret, a brash and assuming morning pushing in through my bedroom window, this is how the day begins, Mall Ox and Odysseus, trumpeting ass.
A cobblestone stone gray sky, a piecemeal meal of clouds scuttling across it, the sky, the mutton gray bleak sky, sky; a mal de teat sky, a confluence of gray marrow bone sky, boiled in the same-such pot with a day-old soup bone, sky day today sky, sky, a cobblestone stone gray sky. I am tired of looking agape at the sky, this gray marrow soup bone sky; a sky scudded with mealy piecemeal clouds, a potboilers sky, sky. What has Nietzsche taught me, I ask myself, me-my-myself me? That intellectual blindness is a curse, an excuse for imperialism and bad manners. That metaphysics is unreasonable, alchemy, an excuse for intellectual blindness, a curse on humanism, a supernatural free-for-all, principia algebraic, mathematical trifoliate(ism). That Freud was right, that the unconscious is the seat of the soul, the ex-machines-dues, the sabot that jigs the apparatus, the ghoul in the contraption, the chive in the hetman. Allium schoenoprasum.
Jawbone biscuits, currants and arrowroot, a slough-pump rum-cake, packet of crisps; seedy soppy loll; Howth Head penance, Graveclothes coiled in Guinness, a stone bowled into the rope of the sea.
Odysseus and Mall Ox, these are troubled time, troubled indeed. Here I sit trumpeting through my ass, a symphony of flutes, oboes and a coalman’s spinneret, a brash and assuming morning pushing in through my bedroom window, this is how the day begins, Mall Ox and Odysseus, trumpeting ass.
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