[My excuse for this experiment and its first chapter are in my entry from 20 Jan . . . and the image is just an ad with its text removed.]
After sundown, between the bedsheets, I felt with my arms for this man I love: I reached out and felt with my arms, but I could not find him.
Now I will spring up and search the metropolitan area, even into the suburbs; I will try to find this man I love.
And yet, having looked extensively, I could not find him.
Some policemen monitoring the Twin Cities in their squad car confronted me: I said to them, “Have you seen this man I love?”
Not long after leaving them, I ended up finding this man I love: I threw my arms around him and would not release him until I had taken him to my mother’s apartment, and into the bedroom of the woman who bore me.
By all the tigers and pards in the forests of the night, I swear to you ladies of Minneapolis: you all better not try to rouse up and enflame our passion, until it is ready.
Who is this one emerging from the badlands shrouded in mist, fragrant with sheer musk and patchouli heart, wearing top-of-the-line cosmetics?
Feast your eyes upon the bedchamber that Bryan inhabits; it is surrounded by sixty brave guards – very brave Americans – all carrying submachine guns, as they are seasoned warriors: every man keeps his finger on the trigger, due to the terror of being attacked.
President Bryan Ray created for himself a personal aircraft out of mirror-finish aluminum from East Asia. All its interior pillars are silver, the instrument panel is pure gold; it has obsidian flooring, and there are flame-colored drapes around the innermost expanse; plus the very atmosphere is spangled with his desire for you ladies of Minneapolis.
Step forward, all you ladies of Golgonooza, and gaze upon President Bryan Ray, whose fiery mane is ignited by the Shekinah; because the Holy Spirit has descended and is anointing him with her fire, for this happy inauguration.
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