In the beginend, Self was wasless,
emptyful, and neverything, dancing
frozen in wisgnorance and realusion
with quanswers like—
Where is everywhere?
It’s now o’clock, beforth the our,
and umbilical discords entertaint
like asphyxurrecting breadth apawn
a royal tombstemming.
Heare now, the Fool’s muted trumpet