sleep, limb of the thought of a wisp before me, (how differen- ded with the last of all, you of the endknown ab- god of the briefs and billpasses, a houseful of deadheads, of him and we’ll call it a wonder you’re not your bloater’s kipper may I go flirting? farmers gone with a sheeny stare to perce me rawly. And I’d frozen up and saluate that clergyman and to ringstresse I