Indeed we trust disable petit prince. functions of the author desire machines
To a feldglin' (fledgling!) authOr
Dear Fellow Scrivener! How goes it in the desert lands of novel writing, and gaze piercing and trouble with the weirdoIsms of publishers and pirates, pimps and puddles, one can never have enuff of these things. How does one spell author.? One cannot spell idealism and text, and Mister Dereader is a tad baffling if not a balooner. AS for us we are happy collected plateau selving and ididentity. I am most glad for yer that yer own is progressing, as for
us well our Author, if it is indeed a thing one can refer to in these dictatorial theory ridden days and nights,
our author,
my authority
our writer
has taken a day r two to
contemplate her belly button,
Or dare I say her??
is her him? or him her?
Know that Mona shall reveal all when the time 'comes' and comes back. When it shall it be. However modal we may be our auxilaries of have and may, present and presenting past tenses of shew and do.
For us , dear Jane our poetryis a flowriver of life une expressiond dans une vie, et and a way of life. As you may guess you live with such singular purpose fighting the great dragon of publishers and other monstrosities!! Ah the dragons of publickers! to us weak whores of words, they are, manys a time and space, mere Pimps to our Pimpled faces of desire!!!
So for now we have tea and move our oblique and hidden ways a the transom of desire.
SHall we say
it was machines that marked the belt that held the time that ran the piff puff that smoked the day??
O Public O private!!
It is a brave one who publishes!
Verlaine for now
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