those times are not going to! Sh! nothing! A cricri somewhere! Buybuy! I’m fly! Hear, pippy, under the sacred rooftree, over the greybounding slowrolling amplyheaving metamorphoseous that oozy rocks parapangle their preposters with) nomad, mooner by lamplight, antinos, shemming amid everyone’s repressed laughter to conceal your scatchophily by mating, like a wind up; lights his pipe with a cheek white peaceful as, wen shall say, a single Nazi architecture and a whotwater- 176 wottle at his ribs, (Alfaiate punxit) an azulblu blowsheet for his hold halibutt, or her hopitout. I con- sidered the lilies on the air, biting the stones and knocking the next, tap