-Mrs Lawrence R. Stickler, and what a fine pickler she was!

I was pickled in her womb atop the pale earth's dying crust of wilted tooths.

-Of languid lambent tongues to be swallowed in the sea of many mouths

but never swallowed whole.

-My little Emily with a ripe belly my was she a wonderful whore

and I loved her over a cup of tea and after that to love her folds of fat

which each morning asked if I was hungry and at night read me pages of Bartleby.

-I once knew a librarian whose shelves where shelved with empty books

and I laughed and I asked, 'Have you read that one yet?'

-Toes between toes plucking stems of brooding toes

in a warren of abundant throws.

-As the blanch ambrosia of my foveola heart.

-G.