"Let me tell you the one
about the fish heads in the gruel pot."
"All of which signifies naught."
"But..."
"Naught!"
"A head boils for a starving man's fete
and you call that..."
"That's right, irrelevant."
"But the fish is the sea, and the sea the fish."
"No!"
"And its head is inscrutable knowledge,
farmed with a cleaver,
pastiche'd in a paste
and served on a great ship's night wreckage."
"And the stars are above and the stars are below?
and their signs tell men which way to go?"
"No. The stars are just lights beglitter'n the sky--
their reflections are portraits on fire."
"Good."
"The great ship's great compass smashed to kettle the stew,
and the small ones were plates for the crew."
"Beautiful. Back to the sea! The retreat!"
"If our life e'er eked from that place..."
"To eat and to speak only words that are pure,
the sickness of order to cure!
Against definition, may life be inured
forever! forever! for..."
"Bore!"
