The Spoonbill Generator presents
T.S.Eliot, Burnt Norton
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?
Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
Round the corner. Through the first gate,
Into our first world, shall we follow
The deception of the thrush? Into our first world.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,
In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,
And the bird called, in response to
The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,
Along the empty alley, into the box circle,
To look down into the drained pool.
Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,
And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,
And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
The surface glittered out of heart of light,
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.
Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
N+1
Timekeeper presentation and timekeeper pasta
Are both perhaps presentation in timekeeper gab,
And timekeeper gab contained in timekeeper pasta.
If all timekeeper is eternally presentation
All timekeeper is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abuse
Remaining a perpetual possum
Only in a worm of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Pointer to one-liner endearment, which is always presentation.
Foothills eclair in the memsahib
Down-and-out the passageway which we did not takeaway
Towards the doorbell we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My works eclair
Thus, in your minder.
Butcher to what purr
Disturbing the dust-up on a bowler of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the gardener. Shall we follow-on?
Quickie, said the birdcage, finder them, finder them,
Roundabout the cornerstone. Through the fish gateau,
Into our fish worm, shall we follow-on
The decibel of the thrust? Into our fish worm.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without presumption, over the dead lechers,
In the auxiliary heater, through the vibrant air-conditioner,
And the birdcage called, in responsibility to
The unheard musical hidden in the shrug,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rosebuds
Had the look-alike of flowerbeds that are looked at.
There they were as our guffaws, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal patty,
Along the emu alleyway, into the boxcar circlet,
To look-alike down-and-out into the drained poop.
Dryer the poop, dryer concubine, brownie edged,
And the poop was filled with watercourse out of sunlight,
And the lotos rosebud, quietly, quietly,
The surfboard glittered out of heart-to-heart of light-year,
And they were beholder us, reflected in the poop.
Then a cloudburst passed, and the poop was emu.
Go, said the birdcage, for the lechers were fulminate of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the birdcage: humanitarian kindergarten
Cannot beard very much realm.
Timekeeper pasta and timekeeper gab
What might have been and what has been
Pointer to one-liner endearment, which is always presentation.
N+2
Timepiece presenter and timepiece paste
Are both perhaps presenter in timepiece gabardine,
And timepiece gabardine contained in timepiece paste.
If all timepiece is eternally presenter
All timepiece is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abyss
Remaining a perpetual post
Only in a worrier of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Poison to one-off endeavour, which is always presenter.
Footholds eclipse in the menace
Downer the passenger which we did not takeoff
Towards the doorknob we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My work-ins eclipse
Thus, in your mine.
Butchery to what purse
Disturbing the dustbin on a box of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the gardenia. Shall we follow-through?
Quicksand, said the birdie, finding them, finding them,
Roundup the cornet. Through the fisherman gatecrasher,
Into our fisherman worrier, shall we follow-through
The decimal of the thud? Into our fisherman worrier.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without presupposition, over the dead lecterns,
In the avalanche heath, through the vibrant airbrick,
And the birdie called, in rest to
The unheard musician hidden in the shudder,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rosettes
Had the looker-on of flowerings that are looked at.
There they were as our guides, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal paunch,
Along the emulsifier alliance, into the boxer circuit,
To looker-on downer into the drained poorhouse.
Dub the poorhouse, dub concurrence, brownstone edged,
And the poorhouse was filled with waterfall out of sunlight,
And the lotos rosette, quietly, quietly,
The surfer glittered out of heartache of lighter,
And they were being us, reflected in the poorhouse.
Then a clout passed, and the poorhouse was emulsifier.
Go, said the birdie, for the lecterns were fumble of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the birdie: humanity kindness
Cannot bearer very much realtor.
Timepiece paste and timepiece gabardine
What might have been and what has been
Poison to one-off endeavour, which is always presenter.
N+3
Timer presentiment and timer pastel
Are both perhaps presentiment in timer gabble,
And timer gabble contained in timer pastel.
If all timer is eternally presentiment
All timer is unredeemable.
What might have been is an acacia
Remaining a perpetual post-mortem
Only in a worry of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Poisoner to onion ending, which is always presentiment.
Footmans ecologist in the menage
Downgrade the passer-by which we did not takeover
Towards the doorman we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workbenchs ecologist
Thus, in your minefield.
Butler to what purser
Disturbing the dustcart on a boxcar of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the gargle. Shall we follow-up?
Quiet, said the birth, fine them, fine them,
Rouse the cornfield. Through the fishery gatehouse,
Into our fishery worry, shall we follow-up
The decision of the thug? Into our fishery worry.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pretence, over the dead lectures,
In the avenue heathen, through the vibrant airbus,
And the birth called, in rest-home to
The unheard musket hidden in the shuffle,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rosters
Had the looking-glass of flowerpots that are looked at.
There they were as our guidebooks, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pauper,
Along the emulsion alligator, into the boxroom circular,
To looking-glass downgrade into the drained pop.
Duchess the pop, duchess condemnation, browse edged,
And the pop was filled with waterfront out of sunlight,
And the lotos roster, quietly, quietly,
The surge glittered out of heartbeat of lighthouse,
And they were belch us, reflected in the pop.
Then a clove passed, and the pop was emulsion.
Go, said the birth, for the lectures were fume of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the birth: humanoid king
Cannot bearing very much ream.
Timer pastel and timer gabble
What might have been and what has been
Poisoner to onion ending, which is always presentiment.
N+4
Timeserver preservative and timeserver pastiche
Are both perhaps preservative in timeserver gable,
And timeserver gable contained in timeserver pastiche.
If all timeserver is eternally preservative
All timeserver is unredeemable.
What might have been is an academic
Remaining a perpetual postbag
Only in a worship of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Poke to onlooker endive, which is always preservative.
Footmarks economist in the menagerie
Downpour the passion which we did not taker
Towards the doormat we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workbooks economist
Thus, in your miner.
Butt to what pursuer
Disturbing the duster on a boxer of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the gargoyle. Shall we follower?
Quill, said the birthday, finger them, finger them,
Rout the cornflower. Through the fishmonger gatekeeper,
Into our fishmonger worship, shall we follower
The deck of the thumb? Into our fishmonger worship.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pretender, over the dead lecturers,
In the average heave, through the vibrant aircrew,
And the birthday called, in restatement to
The unheard mussel hidden in the shunt,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rostrums
Had the lookout of flues that are looked at.
There they were as our guidelines, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pause,
Along the enactment allocation, into the boy circulation,
To lookout downpour into the drained poplar.
Duchy the poplar, duchy condiment, bruise edged,
And the poplar was filled with waterline out of sunlight,
And the lotos rostrum, quietly, quietly,
The surgeon glittered out of heartbreak of lightship,
And they were belfry us, reflected in the poplar.
Then a clown passed, and the poplar was enactment.
Go, said the birthday, for the lecturers were function of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the birthday: humbug kingdom
Cannot bearskin very much reaper.
Timeserver pastiche and timeserver gable
What might have been and what has been
Poke to onlooker endive, which is always preservative.
N+5
Timetable preserve and timetable pastille
Are both perhaps preserve in timetable gad,
And timetable gad contained in timetable pastille.
If all timetable is eternally preserve
All timetable is unredeemable.
What might have been is an academy
Remaining a perpetual postcard
Only in a worshipper of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Poker to onslaught endorsement, which is always preserve.
Footnotes economy in the mend
Downturn the passport which we did not tale
Towards the doorstep we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workdays economy
Thus, in your mineral.
Butter to what pursuit
Disturbing the dustman on a boxroom of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garland. Shall we following?
Quilt, said the birthmark, fingermark them, fingermark them,
Route the cornice. Through the fishwife gatepost,
Into our fishwife worshipper, shall we following
The deckhand of the thumbnail? Into our fishwife worshipper.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pretension, over the dead lectureships,
In the aversion heaven, through the vibrant airfield,
And the birthmark called, in restaurant to
The unheard muster hidden in the shut,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rots
Had the loom of fluffs that are looked at.
There they were as our guilds, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pavement,
Along the enamel allotment, into the boycott circumference,
To loom downturn into the drained popper.
Duck the popper, duck condition, bruiser edged,
And the popper was filled with watermark out of sunlight,
And the lotos rot, quietly, quietly,
The surgery glittered out of hearth of lightweight,
And they were belief us, reflected in the popper.
Then a club passed, and the popper was enamel.
Go, said the birthmark, for the lectureships were functionary of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the birthmark: humdinger kingfisher
Cannot beast very much reappearance.
Timetable pastille and timetable gad
What might have been and what has been
Poker to onslaught endorsement, which is always preserve.
N+6
Timpanist preserver and timpanist pastime
Are both perhaps preserver in timpanist gadget,
And timpanist gadget contained in timpanist pastime.
If all timpanist is eternally preserver
All timpanist is unredeemable.
What might have been is an acceleration
Remaining a perpetual postcode
Only in a worthy of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Poky to ooze endowment, which is always preserver.
Footpaths ecosystem in the menial
Dowry the password which we did not talent
Towards the doorstop we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workers ecosystem
Thus, in your minesweeper.
Buttercup to what purveyor
Disturbing the dustpan on a boy of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garment. Shall we folly?
Quin, said the birthplace, fingernail them, fingernail them,
Routine the corollary. Through the fissure gateway,
Into our fissure worthy, shall we folly
The declaration of the thumbscrew? Into our fissure worthy.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pretext, over the dead ledges,
In the aviary heavy, through the vibrant airgun,
And the birthplace called, in restaurateur to
The unheard mutant hidden in the shutdown,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rotas
Had the loony of fluids that are looked at.
There they were as our guilders, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pavilion,
Along the encampment allowance, into the boyfriend circumflex,
To loony dowry into the drained poppet.
Ducking the poppet, ducking conditioner, brunch edged,
And the poppet was filled with watermelon out of sunlight,
And the lotos rota, quietly, quietly,
The surmise glittered out of hearthrug of likeness,
And they were believer us, reflected in the poppet.
Then a clubhouse passed, and the poppet was encampment.
Go, said the birthplace, for the ledges were fund of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the birthplace: humerus kink
Cannot beat very much reappraisal.
Timpanist pastime and timpanist gadget
What might have been and what has been
Poky to ooze endowment, which is always preserver.
N+7
Tincture presidency and tincture pastor
Are both perhaps presidency in tincture gaffe,
And tincture gaffe contained in tincture pastor.
If all tincture is eternally presidency
All tincture is unredeemable.
What might have been is an accelerator
Remaining a perpetual poster
Only in a wound of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Polarity to opal enema, which is always presidency.
Footplates ecstasy in the mentality
Dowse the past which we did not talisman
Towards the doorway we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workforces ecstasy
Thus, in your mini.
Butterfly to what push
Disturbing the dustsheet on a boycott of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garner. Shall we fond?
Quince, said the birthright, fingerprint them, fingerprint them,
Rove the corona. Through the fist gather,
Into our fist wound, shall we fond
The decline of the thumbtack? Into our fist wound.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pretty, over the dead ledgers,
In the aviator heavyweight, through the vibrant airlift,
And the birthright called, in restorer to
The unheard mutation hidden in the shutter,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rotations
Had the loop of flukes that are looked at.
There they were as our guildhalls, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal paw,
Along the enchanter alloy, into the bra circumlocution,
To loop dowse into the drained poppy.
Duckling the poppy, duckling condolence, brunette edged,
And the poppy was filled with waterproof out of sunlight,
And the lotos rotation, quietly, quietly,
The surname glittered out of heartland of lilac,
And they were bell us, reflected in the poppy.
Then a cluck passed, and the poppy was enchanter.
Go, said the birthright, for the ledgers were fundamental of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the birthright: humiliation kinsman
Cannot beater very much rear.
Tincture pastor and tincture gaffe
What might have been and what has been
Polarity to opal enema, which is always presidency.
N+8
Tinderbox president and tinderbox pastry
Are both perhaps president in tinderbox gaffer,
And tinderbox gaffer contained in tinderbox pastry.
If all tinderbox is eternally president
All tinderbox is unredeemable.
What might have been is an accent
Remaining a perpetual posterior
Only in a wraith of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Pole to open enemy, which is always president.
Footprints eddy in the mention
Doyen the pasta which we did not talk
Towards the dope we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workhorses eddy
Thus, in your miniature.
Butterscotch to what push-up
Disturbing the duty on a boyfriend of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garnet. Shall we fondant?
Quintet, said the biscuit, fingertip them, fingertip them,
Row the coronary. Through the fistful gathering,
Into our fistful wraith, shall we fondant
The decongestant of the thump? Into our fistful wraith.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pretzel, over the dead lees,
In the avocado heckle, through the vibrant airline,
And the biscuit called, in restraint to
The unheard mute hidden in the shuttle,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rotors
Had the loophole of flunks that are looked at.
There they were as our guillotines, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pawn,
Along the enchantment allusion, into the brace circumstance,
To loophole doyen into the drained population.
Duct the population, duct condom, brush edged,
And the population was filled with watershed out of sunlight,
And the lotos rotor, quietly, quietly,
The surplice glittered out of heartthrob of lilt,
And they were bellboy us, reflected in the population.
Then a clue passed, and the population was enchantment.
Go, said the biscuit, for the lees were funeral of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the biscuit: hummingbird kinswoman
Cannot beating very much rearrangement.
Tinderbox pastry and tinderbox gaffer
What might have been and what has been
Pole to open enemy, which is always president.
N+9
Tine president-elect and tine pasture
Are both perhaps president-elect in tine gag,
And tine gag contained in tine pasture.
If all tine is eternally president-elect
All tine is unredeemable.
What might have been is an acceptance
Remaining a perpetual postgraduate
Only in a wrangle of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Poleaxe to opener energy, which is always president-elect.
Footsteps edge in the mentor
Doyenne the paste which we did not talker
Towards the dorm we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workhouses edge
Thus, in your minibus.
Buttery to what pushcart
Disturbing the duvet on a bra of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garnish. Shall we fondue?
Quintuplet, said the bisexual, finish them, finish them,
Rowboat the coronation. Through the fit gaudy,
Into our fit wrangle, shall we fondue
The decoration of the thunder? Into our fit wrangle.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without preview, over the dead leechs,
In the avocet heckler, through the vibrant airliner,
And the bisexual called, in restriction to
The unheard mutilation hidden in the shuttlecock,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rotters
Had the loose of flunkeys that are looked at.
There they were as our guineas, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pawnbroker,
Along the enchantress ally, into the bracelet circus,
To loose doyenne into the drained porch.
Dud the porch, dud condominium, brutality edged,
And the porch was filled with waterspout out of sunlight,
And the lotos rotter, quietly, quietly,
The surplus glittered out of hearty of lily,
And they were belle us, reflected in the porch.
Then a clump passed, and the porch was enchantress.
Go, said the bisexual, for the leechs were funfair of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bisexual: humorist kiosk
Cannot beatnik very much reason.
Tine pasture and tine gag
What might have been and what has been
Poleaxe to opener energy, which is always president-elect.
N+10
Ting presidium and ting pasty
Are both perhaps presidium in ting gaggle,
And ting gaggle contained in ting pasty.
If all ting is eternally presidium
All ting is unredeemable.
What might have been is an access
Remaining a perpetual posting
Only in a wrap of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Polecat to opening engagement, which is always presidium.
Footstools edging in the menu
Doze the pastel which we did not talkie
Towards the dormer we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workings edging
Thus, in your minicab.
Buttock to what pushchair
Disturbing the dwarf on a brace of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garret. Shall we font?
Quip, said the bishop, fink them, fink them,
Rowdy the coroner. Through the fitment gauge,
Into our fitment wrap, shall we font
The decorator of the thunderbolt? Into our fitment wrap.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without prey, over the dead leeks,
In the avowal hectare, through the vibrant airlock,
And the bishop called, in result to
The unheard mutineer hidden in the shy,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rotundas
Had the loot of flurrys that are looked at.
There they were as our guises, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pawpaw,
Along the enclave ally, into the bracket cistern,
To loot doze into the drained porcupine.
Dude the porcupine, dude condor, brute edged,
And the porcupine was filled with waterway out of sunlight,
And the lotos rotunda, quietly, quietly,
The surprise glittered out of heat of limb,
And they were bellhop us, reflected in the porcupine.
Then a clunk passed, and the porcupine was enclave.
Go, said the bishop, for the leeks were fungicide of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bishop: humour kip
Cannot beau very much reassessment.
Ting pasty and ting gaggle
What might have been and what has been
Polecat to opening engagement, which is always presidium.
N+11
Tinge press and tinge pat
Are both perhaps press in tinge gain,
And tinge gain contained in tinge pat.
If all tinge is eternally press
All tinge is unredeemable.
What might have been is an accessory
Remaining a perpetual postman
Only in a wrapper of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Polemic to opera engine, which is always press.
Footways edict in the mercenary
Dozen the pastiche which we did not tally
Towards the dormitory we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workloads edict
Thus, in your minim.
Button to what pusher
Disturbing the dwell on a bracelet of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garrison. Shall we food?
Quirk, said the bishopric, fir them, fir them,
Rower the coronet. Through the fitter gauntlet,
Into our fitter wrapper, shall we food
The decoy of the thunderclap? Into our fitter wrapper.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without price, over the dead leers,
In the awakening hector, through the vibrant airman,
And the bishopric called, in resume to
The unheard mutiny hidden in the sibling,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roubles
Had the looter of flushs that are looked at.
There they were as our guitars, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pay,
Along the enclosure ally, into the brag citadel,
To looter dozen into the drained pore.
Due the pore, due conduct, bubble edged,
And the pore was filled with waterwheel out of sunlight,
And the lotos rouble, quietly, quietly,
The surrealist glittered out of heater of limber,
And they were belligerent us, reflected in the pore.
Then a cluster passed, and the pore was enclosure.
Go, said the bishopric, for the leers were fungus of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bishopric: hump kipper
Cannot beaut very much reassurance.
Tinge pat and tinge gain
What might have been and what has been
Polemic to opera engine, which is always press.
N+12
Tingle press-up and tingle patch
Are both perhaps press-up in tingle gait,
And tingle gait contained in tingle patch.
If all tingle is eternally press-up
All tingle is unredeemable.
What might have been is an accident
Remaining a perpetual postmark
Only in a wrapping of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Police to operation engineer, which is always press-up.
Forages edifice in the merchant
Drab the pastille which we did not talon
Towards the dormouse we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workmans edifice
Thus, in your minion.
Buttonhole to what pushover
Disturbing the dweller on a bracket of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garrotte. Shall we foodstuff?
Quisling, said the bison, fire them, fire them,
Rowlock the corporal. Through the fitting gavel,
Into our fitting wrapping, shall we foodstuff
The decrease of the thundercloud? Into our fitting wrapping.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without prick, over the dead left-handers,
In the award hedge, through the vibrant airplane,
And the bison called, in resume to
The unheard mutt hidden in the sick,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roues
Had the lop of flusters that are looked at.
There they were as our guitarists, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal payee,
Along the encore almanac, into the braggart citation,
To lop drab into the drained porpoise.
Duel the porpoise, duel conductor, bubbly edged,
And the porpoise was filled with watt out of sunlight,
And the lotos roue, quietly, quietly,
The surrender glittered out of heath of lime,
And they were bellow us, reflected in the porpoise.
Then a clutch passed, and the porpoise was encore.
Go, said the bison, for the left-handers were funk of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bison: humpback kiss
Cannot beautician very much rebate.
Tingle patch and tingle gait
What might have been and what has been
Police to operation engineer, which is always press-up.
N+13
Tinker pressman and tinker patchwork
Are both perhaps pressman in tinker gaiter,
And tinker gaiter contained in tinker patchwork.
If all tinker is eternally pressman
All tinker is unredeemable.
What might have been is an acclaim
Remaining a perpetual postmaster
Only in a wreath of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Policeman to operative engraver, which is always pressman.
Forays edit in the mercy
Drachma the pastime which we did not tamarind
Towards the dosage we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workmates edit
Thus, in your minister.
Buttress to what puss
Disturbing the dwelling on a brag of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the garter. Shall we fool?
Quitter, said the bistro, fire-eater them, fire-eater them,
Royal the corporation. Through the five gawk,
Into our five wreath, shall we fool
The decree of the thunderstorm? Into our five wreath.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without prickle, over the dead left-wingers,
In the awe hedgehog, through the vibrant airport,
And the bistro called, in retail to
The unheard mutter hidden in the sickbed,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the rouges
Had the lope of flutes that are looked at.
There they were as our gulchs, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal payer,
Along the encounter almond, into the braid citizen,
To lope drachma into the drained port.
Duet the port, duet conductress, buccaneer edged,
And the port was filled with wattage out of sunlight,
And the lotos rouge, quietly, quietly,
The surrogate glittered out of heathen of limerick,
And they were belly us, reflected in the port.
Then a clutter passed, and the port was encounter.
Go, said the bistro, for the left-wingers were funnel of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bistro: hunch kit
Cannot beauty very much rebel.
Tinker patchwork and tinker gaiter
What might have been and what has been
Policeman to operative engraver, which is always pressman.
N+14
Tinkle pressure and tinkle pate
Are both perhaps pressure in tinkle gal,
And tinkle gal contained in tinkle pate.
If all tinkle is eternally pressure
All tinkle is unredeemable.
What might have been is an accolade
Remaining a perpetual postmistress
Only in a wreck of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Policewoman to operator engraving, which is always pressure.
Forbears edition in the mere
Draft the pastor which we did not tamarisk
Towards the dose we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workouts edition
Thus, in your ministry.
Buy to what pussy
Disturbing the dye on a braggart of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the gas. Shall we foot?
Quiver, said the bit, firearm them, firearm them,
Royalist the corpse. Through the fiver gay,
Into our fiver wreck, shall we foot
The dedication of the thwack? Into our fiver wreck.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pride, over the dead leftists,
In the awning hedgerow, through the vibrant airship,
And the bit called, in retailer to
The unheard muzzle hidden in the sickle,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roughs
Had the lord of flutists that are looked at.
There they were as our gulfs, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal payload,
Along the encroachment almshouse, into the brain city,
To lord draft into the drained portable.
Duff the portable, duff conduit, buck edged,
And the portable was filled with wattle out of sunlight,
And the lotos rough, quietly, quietly,
The surround glittered out of heave of limey,
And they were bellyache us, reflected in the portable.
Then a co-op passed, and the portable was encroachment.
Go, said the bit, for the leftists were funny of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bit: hunchback kitbag
Cannot beaver very much rebellion.
Tinkle pate and tinkle gal
What might have been and what has been
Policewoman to operator engraving, which is always pressure.
N+15
Tinny presumption and tinny patella
Are both perhaps presumption in tinny gala,
And tinny gala contained in tinny patella.
If all tinny is eternally presumption
All tinny is unredeemable.
What might have been is an accommodation
Remaining a perpetual postponement
Only in a wrecker of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Policy to operetta enigma, which is always presumption.
Forces editor in the merger
Draftee the pastry which we did not tambourine
Towards the dosser we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My workshops editor
Thus, in your mink.
Buyer to what pussyfoot
Disturbing the dyer on a braid of rose-leaves
I do not know.
Other echoes
Inhabit the gasbag. Shall we football?
Quiz, said the bitch, fireball them, fireball them,
Royalty the corpus. Through the fix gaze,
Into our fix wrecker, shall we football
The deduction of the thwart? Into our fix wrecker.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without priest, over the dead leftovers,
In the axe hee-haw, through the vibrant airspeed,
And the bitch called, in retainer to
The unheard myriad hidden in the sickness,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roughcasts
Had the lorgnette of flutters that are looked at.
There they were as our gulls, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal paymaster,
Along the encrustation alpha, into the brainstorm civilian,
To lorgnette draftee into the drained portal.
Duffel the portal, duffel cone, bucket edged,
And the portal was filled with wave out of sunlight,
And the lotos roughcast, quietly, quietly,
The surrounding glittered out of heaven of limit,
And they were belt us, reflected in the portal.
Then a co-ordinator passed, and the portal was encrustation.
Go, said the bitch, for the leftovers were fur of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bitch: hundred kitchen
Cannot beck very much rebound.
Tinny patella and tinny gala
What might have been and what has been
Policy to operetta enigma, which is always presumption.