This is the way to start a sentence about startling a sentence.
          Here is the tense that has not heart, that tramples beyond its
          own infirmity.  O! how exquisite is the loss of all that we have
          shared, all that we might better have hoped only to have lived
          for.  Pleased, said I, who cares so little about such things,
          who’d rather be a mast on a plumb of piddle than underlit by
          dunks . . .

                At this point dive into second.  Soon I will try to correct a foil
          trivial to all but those who see behind a wet-pressed fin. Or would
          this mean that all was tossed in this here twirl?  What am I to do
          sayeth the elderly man.  I will goes into these houses that you
          have made for me and will tell you all I slate.

          So it crawls off far into the sky that never answers
          Where daylight falls but knows neither you or ye
                         Fall into my arms of twilight
                         As I kiss the pit that stomachs not its pith
          And in this return to faithful sentience, gaze but have not
          Fear for all I try will bring to nought this pail of peers.

          To say again.
          To say it here/
          Only this
          can I know, that where I fly together will you warp that
          abode embrace my flight.
                 Or shall it only be that here do swim upon the grace of all
          that has o’ercome this vault of
              sceptres.  Steeped in vain revamp
          or put upon
                         at reason’s heap.

               Not to say or not to

          with this gaze upon failed Mystery
          or in the giving go, the living loss
          strikes against these bows

          Which only says to this that will go variously to bay for noisesome
          among the frolicsome pompadors.




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