Date: Sat, 6 Feb 1999 01:02:37 -0500 (EST)
From: Marsha Faizi <mfaizi-AT-rbnet.com>
Subject: Re: Musty smells


Ariosto wrote:

>Shaheena,
> There is all this musty smell around now covering everything up like the
>black dress you want to wear for me. 

It is the dress of my eternal widowhood. I do not wear it for you. I wear it
for the darkness. For you, I am naked.

>The triumvarate of storytellers,
>me, you, and that, whatever that is. 

The usual sign of life. That erect thing.

>I guess that moves the flow along

It always does. It is this drawing thing. This sucking thing.

>no longer a straight line but bent by a ceasura, a counter-flow with a
>low tone. 

There is only one low tone, Ariosto, and it is very low.

>This is how a net is oriented for random events sparked off
>by noise yet harmony. 

Explosions. 

>Everyone alone in their cell

I live in my cell. 

>of private thoughts

Tell me. I dare you. I am so small.

>comingles and knowing the....the difficult pleasure of vegetables, it was
>while before that word came, broke through the easy flow and glanced.

It is a sense of mustiness, Ariosto. Mustiness is evocative of other than
tomatoes and carrots and cucumbers. 

>Love, your fool,
>Ariosto
Kisses,
Shaheena