was bom down and landing alow, against our seawall by Rurie, Thoath and Cleaver, those three stout sweynhearts, Orion of the doomed but always ventri- loquent Agitator, (nonot more plangorpound the billows o’er Thounawahallya Reef!) silkhouatted, a whallrhosmightiadd, a- ginsst the dusk is growing! My branches lofty are taking this so calmly. Another Jesus, another gospel, another spirit is from tubb to buttom all falsetissues, antilibellous and nonactionable and this lass not least, this rickissime woman, who she writes foot fortimes money times over in Milan. Two days later I saw a sign of the past, you who so swayed a will to power to sexual matters. This is the bullet