and this sound, can you hear it now?

does she mean to say that she is in a room rubbing a piece of paper?

(sounds like she’s sawing it whole)

and this sound, that not writing makes, can you hear it now?

o I know her, she’ll tell it to the pulp, if not you

(taking po notice of your werful feelings)

once a disturbing ‘therefore’ has allowed its possibles to be unwelcomed, you must accept all nothings on the basis of experiment alone, this is hard, yes there is no doubt about that, but if she only said what she meant the situation still might not improve,

as yet this has not been verified, we are hoping to do so within the next week, but there is something of a pinning down problem… what to pin, and on which head

yes, yes, you can tell your story straight, if you must… I did this, I did this, I did this

then I did this, and this and then I got fed-up and went back to doing this… but that still didn’t fulfil me, so I had a go at this and that upset some people over there and so I didn’t exactly stop but I did this in another place where the people over there don’t live

then that this started to upset me, so I went back to the people over there and they were glad that I wasn’t doing this anymore

I’m trying this now, it seems okay for the moment

but when she says things like she’s just sitting in a room writing on a piece of water, I begin to wonder what I am doing this for, even though it seemed okay a moment ago

couldn't you ...

... when you envision the far side of out, dig your yawning during a blizzard, and believe it to be occupied unconventionally in overlapping horizontal whiteout

and

is it not the case that you plead, sometimes, with the atmosphere

on behalf of the yawning side, far from your conventional belief, that the blizzard occupies, in whiteout, the downpour that wears you well, come rain or rain

and is it not also so, that you ply yourself with unravelling, to the point of extrication

taking all the perplexity out of xxx

and

isn’t it simpler to just say what you really mean and not ramble on about

a yawn that pleads for its own sanity daily

a blizzard that plies itself with more zzzz’s

a horizon that hides

a case that has a mild case of case

a dig that downs in one

a

a

a

couldn’t you just say what you really mean?

it was now

colossal costs plundered to size, still I gave no answer, before putting the finishing touches on the tip of the iceberg,

salty last lines turned first, I would be grateful if it was now, even though I have still not discarded all I have grown-out-off

set down in the annals of con, chronologically weeded out from the shallows of systematic abbreviation, a raft of saving graces never touches the sides

and you, again, at the forefront of flourish, knew no cave-in worth its brine

taking a nick out of time, spares only the hour -

a legitimate fluctuation in the life of notch