An exercise in automatic writing.
The Magician of the summer-frost
stood between the boat of the last Egotist
that the tax of the serpent
was the chore of the choir
and that his purpose
did not evolve such labors-
a privilege afforded him by Way of teleology.
He cast a silver marble
on the cost of the water lilies
harkening back to the year of the maiden
what a gentleman delivered
was not between the pockets of his trousers
(O! He was a clever Magician).
Created: May 23, 2009Document Media