.., but in memory recovered like Dutch sailing vessels from the waste heap excavation that was both heap and excavation before the present dyke did threat to bust--
I don't mean to be rude--to interrupt rudely--here, but you can say that in English, you know.
Oh?
Ip yips about the boat they found buried in the muck when they first excavated Vesey Street to sink the piers of the World Trade Center.
(Be still, my better half!) ..did threat to bust. I discovered recently as my psychiatrist and his accountant scribbled past my sunken eyelids, that I'd wondered as a child how many names has God and because His names are numberless, I'd been counting ever since. Why ask Freud, when you can probe the Rector? A penny undreamed is a penny earned, and all that stuff.
My happiest moment here, then, was to discover that not only are His names discreet in number (though the number indiscreetly grow), but augmented by a suffix'ed suffix. Was here that this God first spoke to me, black fire on white, while the dropping Jacorandas eavesed.
And to all the rest: all the rest -- like marriage (or so they say) the best and worst of it together overbrim the cup.
