INTRODUCTION

Forgive me, reader, for I'm about to sin again--
I mixed my drinks! In one ear poured Finnegan
(as slithery Claudius did, to Hamlet's dear old da)
while in me othear climbed A Spaniard In the Works. Ah,
Lennon and Joyce, what a marriage of true mynahs!
I nest betwyne, in a mynage a twaht.
(Shtup me, ere I punnigan!)
To read this dream o' two rescues, child and man,
say it aloud, no, LOUDER! So watt
if you stub a verbal toe on the meanful misspells,
don't we all? Ah, it slobbers, puns, and yells,
yes chant it as if you're still a half-drunk
Celt-goddess--your ax-sense thick as a brick!
A bit more Lear. A bit more leer. You'll do. There.

1: ANN SOFORTH.

I raft the riverrump, sitswaying thru cañonely lands. Drie dust desert ground inderfaces of hagged shabbers onder banks... bad land, and hardt of Islamicruels and skinciples, nero as sigh of a needall... Allaw trictly up lied!

A girlil crI up onther bangsk; horr if eyes wrathchers, who see it as sin to stan naking even ass a chilld...

Criiii. Scraped, escaped, RAPED. One these so-colled "oltzeimer elision" folk, all saberclean in All's eye, and in the ice of hiss nabobrs... such a sAin't raipped that girl orffour. and Ion raft hear these hole ly God-fouring foulk belame lilch kid for pervocal the crime! By lioving, bein' lil, fem, ilone, gunless, aweake?

They'll chorejure her, shorture stature and later reza razoraged moneyment when shease safely deaded! Procrusty bedded babe beheaded.

I roar to shoar, angee comes running &...O relief, they let er leaf alife! Justs O theloathy evrydence erapced... Onely care for there repuke.

Ann Soshe gang a plank.

Ann down the river rol a raft along... true da badlan, wit da sadman... me.

Ann toothy great grin blew and grayvly sea.

2: LIBERAL, O SEAN!

Now a shore is a land with an end, hence a possible ship-friend, and

"alway broader be a border,
sence all frogress breeds in worter."

Refugee,
see ka see:
guts o'continence' flinty waze
will nohow sooth yer raw abrades.

3: TWO FRISCOY BARDS

I seekle up stoop stemed hils afog, to hoom and hum bellow the fa ghourn's light...

In too-separate cobbins, olding frinds compuse ther crytpick tuones. Pual and Jhon: a music ne'er stop, alwy clash: Paulayful lilts, but Johm face shatterd pane and seesawd self... ne'r peace, less joy... and yet appauls shaullow in the laung rum. (A rum pun. A rum jest. A dead man's jest.)

Alsince I war a youngun
I pferd the sole Beatall--
From Sober and the Brightone
I John amostly foll'--

(tune "Painfall Wisart" by the Whom)

But now? Joh's musicle push out Pauls! Loudly laud, bitter he booms. Faced pain's his facet, but he reign on the Palrade... shellow extravagert's half rights two! Fur the fur styeamin' my life I fell closert to Poil! My foimer oinemy. O, I'm dun, woverine dung wit piss-an-morning my scantry past. Now for cooin and wooin, and t'hell wit rooin. Live in one fine leap, as poolish Paol poprose Allah lung. I feel filly yet fun: gloom played its run!

4: TAKE OURSELF SINCERYESLY

So I entire Pacarneys cabing. He's their butt out: unconsience undie flour! When his soun droun doubt, he too drooms! He swoons in rooms.

I creatle his head. I'm relived: he waches whiff a grown. "Hwen emmy?" Pall mons.

Says I "Five years gone."

"Jondorned me?"

"Aye."

and i grief as I groove and I canthelp sway and likelp move, to the current of moody musikness lennonother cabin born... ill hellth exorcised, pured in crack of ampli fire; his mad turn choir. I grieve as I move as I leave as I love: and I sigh unto Paul, asudding visin of to come:

"Take yor mushick cere yesly, build an craft and say... for soon yollone in cabbin play. John die soonday." Recall that John talled this Paul, inteview befor he die, "when Macartsy take his elf sinceriously..." So I chant to this drowne man:

"Lilt and build yore-craft of joy
Face talent: tis no toy to break
A man your fend who tell from grave
Gravely charge you carrylone!"

Now I, alorn in discoldant 20th sans-cherie ... I wrait... and wite... for someone right--or till, like patint John, who tilled his toil, I shudder off this murdal coil.

Or learn to tell my truths, with joy or sans;
To shape my flounderlife, I'll stretch my hands.

The two victims are surely sides of me, prometheii once bound, set free.

The two rescues are symirrorish: Ann from c'rule-based deny-ers, Paul from c'rule-smashing confesser. Easy to scorn Ann's folk, for I mist rust de-mentalists (whether fun- or un-); far harder to criticize Johnny's deppth.

Elbow room for shallows is on so few agendas.

CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE DEPT

Ann Soforth was a name coined by L. Frank Baum. My dream remembered...
Ah, let the REM embers die! Douse the spellfire, scatter the ash.
You can go back now, back to your world,
where all the spells are checked--
John's and Paul's... and yours.

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