Issue 227, Winter 2018
Why such irony in re the mystical context when a graph of even the most
commonplace exchange would appear perplexed; when we drop out
from the plainest statement in the posture of a bat?
So, decide to make something of that, the style to resemble an English Aeneid
or Iliad. Do it like Dryden. No, up the bid. Do it as Wren did it at the
Sheldonian, which is like Dryden in stone.
You’ve always been a name-dropper.
I believe I need them to charm away scrofula such as Sam Johnson suffered
from. “Chronic enlargement and degeneration of the lymphatic
glands.” Thought to be healed by the application of regal well-anointed
hands. Dryden and Wren are kings; and English poetry has lately
incurred something squatly debilitating to the strength of even the most