400k wds, some neologisms. Story of a young bohemian bawn and bred in the briar patch that lay between the borders of St. Elvis Era and the Eleusinian Feels of alternity.
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An Evening Walk
The rum! The rum! Lady Night doth come!
Momselle Night with her star-sparkled cape
decks us in her beneficent Mystery Drape
Come with me, walk here by my side,
arm-in-aura, shedding unexumed yesterday
and with it miscarried tomorrow
We will see a wood together
a godly wood, a sassy wood, pliocene invention,
far on an escarpment in a Namib that never was
With evening splashing salmon and carmine
where sky kisses sea, a fond fondling engendering,
and the breeze begets us giddy with rose-scent,
We can stride the moon-glamoured Road of Ra
cast on the waters by austere Sister Keres,
and ascend the sky amid the cool lunar-took light,
There to unveil our Place and our Plays
in half a night or more of a-gnosis and ex-stasis,
all for the greater glad of all sensuant creatures
Then, when our writhes of spring are complete,
drift on a raft of slumber deep into night,
piloted to dawn by the songs of the owl and the hoopoe
when the door to soft morning whispers.
&&&&&&&
VECTOR 000
When I was 69, it was a very good lore.
THE QUEST FOR THE CLIMAXIMAL COSMIC MAMMIJAZZM
{Fur Jazzmurmur}
Preface
All schoolchildren here in the 90th century are familiar with the many folktales and legends associated with our Original Ancestor, Papa Bubba McRamis. In the past, these stories were frowned upon by serious scholars. They were even banned, during the reign of Ampress Leipos Uhkshunn, as being "apochryphal, heretical, and inspired by the Enemy of Humankind, Demon Cracy." More recently, they have been cheerfully tolerated as children's tales to be enjoyed by the unlettered.
