| The Journal of Provincial Thought |
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But Habogus keepeth unto his grotto in hazey repose, and saith unto his sweetservant, the whom he hath dubb-ed Cradle of Civility: O sweet civilien Kraydol, whence come so many—hap from the Distance? For that is such like the Distance, all full of faces having wearers having names—having, having, having, and now they would have me as their tool property, and wud have me abanden my comfert to come out and work their field of stench end-to-end. Such rapport!
O! (waileth Hobogus), wud they with eagle-beakt alacrity pluck me as like some scrumpchis chickmeat outen my coze, where I am cozy, and with their talons tear me, and distribufy me slicewise amongst voracious saters anest? (And he put in the sounds of such affair, and rockt the grotto with unnatcherol passiens; and Kraydol swoont, for that she cud almo smell
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the blood. Yea, when that she were come around from the swoon, said she unto him, Zound, master, I cud almo smell the blood.)
And Kraydel chastend him, glancing upon him sidewise and saying, Hast thou gone and tolt them thou art lord? And he anserd and said, I shud say so.
And from beyond came adrifting cryings out, and madderwaulings, and ultimot beseechoments: Cast out our palsies, send rain and money, undo the devil’s gnots, come heal a natien.
And Habogris silent moutheth their demands—which they however call petitions—he lying there and drinking e’en some more wines.
Yank & banish our daemons, flunk our bodyrot in its rainbow hues, come heal a natien.
And he heareth above the rest a goomer which talketh mostily through his nose, saying, I owe great money unto many bad men, lord; I am in danger. If an thou be lord, then all that thou needst do is to stretch forth thine hand and douse me dear with pouchbag; puff my purse past jingling, that it giveth out a groan and catcheth the moon in its gravidy. Prithee come me riche, O lord, and let me pay my knifey pursuitsters. Rich enow do me make, that I be ne’er tempted to go again into notorious arrangements. Say—an thou bewealth me not, and they catch & kill me, ’twill be thy fault.
And tremendis indifference washt upon Habogos, as transient it doth, owing unto cayoss in his formative years underfoot, which denied unto him constance of perch & view and made mere grope of his grasp. And he given up a mighty sigh, and crawleth his way unto the nether reach of his earthen squataway—the elegance were all in the frontisroom—and packeth he dirt and stones behindabouts him.
Yet came those beseechmentata, no less ardent for the mufflement: Run out a rod and stroke us, O thou mullah Highpile Hope! Pitch some uncorruptis; render us fresh as snowbabes with slappt asses, leave us light as birdsbreath, lucid as rain. Rain? Send some. Heat the street with a whelming radiance, scorch the dank manor of our iniquity with a bursting brillience and with winsome shimmer. [For the paepel of that day believ-ed the shimmer to be the mother of all luminance. Ta. Today’s scholar kowtoweth unto no such unenlighted idiologem; for he is mindful of the glare, and the flash, and dazzle, and glow, and fluorescis, and other of the family of illumny from which rationol beings might well to draw imputatiens of motherlight.]
ALLOY! Haibogus spaseth with a spasm, seeing that he hath coverd with dirt his sweetservant Cradle! Now this tuggeth melancholy upon his heart. For in termsa live burials, he had thoght her meet more for the topsod stratum of Heaven, to nourish the angels’ apricotts agrowing, than for the luckless ignominy of this hermetic underclay.
Still, saith he, It taketh all kinds in this world; all manner of unwont and ironical misfix doth be seen to occur.
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And he saith unto his packt ratshole, Hae; I can not go out there and pluck the festers from their adulteris buttloafs, neither can I tack the breacht skin back agayn o’er their daughters’ popular plums. Yet have they at me, and come they hither ahounding, and imploring, and braiding mine nerves up in braids. And he lay to wait them out, and playd fingerdances, and winkt out quiet rhythms with his eyes.
And after a shift of seeking and digging, they cried them futility and departed away from outsiden his burrow for the evening. But they said, The lord cannot hide from us for ever down there in Glory Hole. We will be back in greater force, and with the right tools.
And as they went, there behind them lay waste & ruin, dross, loss, and foul deposit—incidents all, of man in the plural. And there were flagrant carvings upon the trees, and the absurd sobriquets of young bums chalkt across lofty faces of the bracketing escarpments, such as, Damsel Distresser, and Captain Biceps, and The Motion Ghost, and Crucifruit, and The Man. And among the scraps and scatterd effects of the trounce-ed lay there bits of botherd writings and depictitures of this & that, and other suchstuffs of high arte in an hurry, arte on the fly, arte that hath hitten the mobstream and ceast to survive.
That which was Thatte 
which isThat hwhich shalle be 
| jptArchive Issue 5 |
| Copyright 2008- WJ Schafer & WC Smith - All Rights Reserved |
| Chapitre |
| 1. Momentous Among Us pp. 1-2 |
| 2. Come Crashing Parodise, Those Crying Want pp. 2-4 |
| 3. Breach and a Sudden Pang pp. 4-5 |
| 4. Men Uncork the Power of their Faithe pp. 6-7 |
| 5. To the Venturer Who Hath Conceit p. 7 |
| 6. Indectic p. 8 |
| ziss it? |
| nay |
| <<YEA |
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