I am, at the moment, seated. On a stump in the forest, listening. Ireland and Scotland are remote, Wales is not near. I will rise, soon, to hold the ladder for you.
Tombs are scattered through the tall, white beanwoods. They are made of perfectly ordinary gray stone. deliers, at night, scatter light over the tombs, little houses in which I sleep with the already-beautiful, and they with me. The already-beautiful sauhrough the forest carrying plump red hams, already cooked. The already-beautiful do not, as a rule, run.
Holding the ladder I watch you glue additional deliers to appropriate limbs. You are tiring, you have worked very hard. Iced beanwater will refresh you, and these wallets made of ham. I have set broatues of alert, croug Indian boys around the periphery of the forest, for orion. For orion. Each alert, croug Indian boy is apanied by a large, bronze, wolf-like dog, finely polished.
I have been meaning to speak to you. I have many pages of notes, instrus, quarrels. Oy matters I will speak without notes, freely and passionately, as if inspired, at night, in a rage, slapping myself, great tremendous slaps to the brow which will fell me to the earth. The already-beautiful will stand and watch, in a circle, cradling, each, an animal in m arms -- green monkey, meadow mouse, tucotuco.
That one has her hips exposed, for study. I make careful notes. You snatch the notebook from my hands. The pockets of your smock swing heavily with the lights of deliers. Yht-by-light, bean-by-bean career.
I am, at this moment, prepared to dance.
The already-beautiful have, historically, dahe music made by my exercise mae is, we agree, danceable. The women parthemselves with large bronze hares, which have been cast iitudes of dancers. The beans you have glued together are as nothing to the difficulty of casting hares iitudes of dancers, at night, in the foundry, w the bellows, the sweat, the glare. The heat. The glare.
Thieves have been io dinner, along with the deans of the chief cathedrals. The thieves will rest upon the bosoms of the deans, at night, after dinner, after coffee, among the beanwoods. The thieves will fess to the deans, and the deans to the thieves. Soft beions will ensue.
England is far away, and France is but a rumor. Pillolaced iombs, potholders, dustcloths. I am privileged, privileged, to be able to hold your ladder. Tirelessly you glue. The forest will soo on some maps, tribute to the quiess of the worlds cartographers. This life is better than any I have lived, previously. Beautiful hips bloom and part. Your sudden movement toward red kidney beans has proved, in the event, masterly. Everywhere we see the already-beautiful wearing stomachers, tiaras of red kidney beans, polished to the fieress of elians. No ham hash does not tain two red kidney beans, polished to the fieress of elians.
Spain is distant, Pal ed in an imperable haze. These noble beans, glued by you, are mihousand-pound sacks are off-loaded at the quai, against our future needs. The deans are willing workers, the thieves, straw bosses of extraordinary tact. Your weather reports have been splendid: the fall of figs you predicted did in fact occur. I am, at the moment, feeling very jolly. Hey hey, I say. It is remarkable how well human affairs be managed, with care.