A DAY IN THE LIFE OF ODILON REDON, HOVERKRAFT PILOT

[phanero]

Sublime secrets still linger.. ~Hyman Swetzoff, The Burning Bush of Isfahan.   OANNES' EYE, THE FIRST CONSCIOUSNESS OF CHAOS Upon the willing of May, he dashed off a Shedu and was onto the Market, willing this he may, a May of willing Shedus, two by two the Shedus came, two-headed Shedus standing erect, and he onto the Market, onto the marquetry, where there in fabulous cherrywood the Shedu lay bleeding, wooden nickles pouring from its visiboon, the artifice of aculeated measures dandelion'd to the monopole, tethered to the walls, the chora where once swans dived in gelastic equimortis. THE CHIMERA REGARDED ALL THINGS WITH TERROR Templars on trial, trial and error, terror, horror, and fuhror, These were the Shedus which upon which he went to Market. First to Death Wish Avenue, Then left on Royal 13 Road, a crooked and doglegged lane which passed the Rotary Club whose facade was pale as celadon, an Albemuth furred in crystal antennae, a Frankenmuth scarletted blue in yeti nails. Tipping his hat to the casual and rustic fetishes of the Bus-stop, he continued on, spurring his bearded Volks-fl-agon whose eyes like old King Coals burned hotter than a pungent recollection, more black than any ivory's ragged socket. ALOIS RIEGL   Time’s Visible Surface mocked him. All the things of the Market came caustic in his story of the stone. The Market was dull, a dried sap of iguanas cast in bales on plain litters, nothing but assurances in its beak. The Shedus balked at the reins, the long devoid of his countenance scrivened towards the implanting, the silent flower of Vienna upon the graying abstersiveness now beckoning from the mulch: "Vegetius' Distemper as a sustained examination of the categories of temporality and history in artare an anaplerotic substance whose dreaming polyps wade in deepest Sheduland, whose Persia is the Zarathustrian Wolfsbane, whose Stilfragen, Spätromische, and Kunstindustrie are portraits of Dutch maidens, whose milky phrases water the Gesamtkunstwerk of this absolute and unending nativity of swinging Pulcinella, whose faithful demiurge, Tiepolo, would walk on wooden ladders o'er the snow, a regal Aloe, a balm of isness upon the saltarelloi  upon sordid rungs."     COMOLLI or EVIL FLOWER?   Baudelaire ahymn'd and ahawed, then suddenly, with a flaesh of his retinal cursor posted, as if thinking to hisself, "Is it not an IN-credible form of the monstrous that we   seeknotmerely________________{   credible?" ~`][`[`[]`[]`[`]`[`][`/`/`]`.]`.].`]``]][``][`[]`[\/\/\~~   The Shedu squared their beards in the rising plumage of the steamtrees,   and Odilon, who had finally arrived at the public airstrip simply winked from the cockpit of his spherical hoverkraft, the SS VISION...