Having sauntered down andup such sand-swept strands,Having whiplash,whiplash winds whip at my wrists,Having rustlers,rains swirl whistlers bat by hands,Having, before this blackbeach, been blind before, beforesome storm, sidewinding,blast my feet, what twistsmy mindscapes now tocome upon such scenes once more,once more? Hadn't onehad enough of this before?
Hadn't I hadenough of this before? Enough of this!Hadn't you hadenough of this before? "Get out, getout!" as she did stürm from doorto door, that latch hiss,with what a quarrel, serpent-time timed to sinuous sweatand it would beat thebrow, and bit its sting, a ring,that could not cease to ringbetween the ears, arrearsaccumulated, venomousdebtors, screaming at our ears.