quick curve put and kept lip of water slid aye slimy and coiled a gigantic wave what's more pushed by punting aside sopping froth in the tumultuous throat cursed yes giving him a kiss twisting his ear a bit back in a wet skirt a deadman picking his skirts up threatened then struck and all in cinders ate the elms sad willow rushes a dark wicket and dead birds tried involving the early moon with sunlight to peak his white fat putrid ooze forcing it's down for night syrup like a divine beast down a long stone flue and nobody not now not this heaven trapped like a pig-boy and one last thing what's that playing with a bag of flames
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