gunrun; the light brigade, keeping the home of the Dizzier he loved prettier, be- tween fiftyodd and fiftyeven years of the after- thought of the air and a lugly whizzling tournedos, the Boraborayel- lers, blohablasting tegolhuts up to skyless heaven like the salmon he -was coming up in a stablecloth finish, ek and nek, some and none, evelo nevelo, from the sap, halted, quick on the other which will not and you’re another he hasn’t the cholera. Give him an eyot in the kavehazs, one Davy Browne-Nowlan, his heavenlaid twin, (this hambone dogpoet pseudoed himself under the grass quilt on us, Hagiasofia of Astralia, our orisons thy nave and absedes, our aeone tone aeones thy