De Iron Trote
(for Keith Tuma)


As man, in deep and level sleep, periodically draws a long inspiration, song is learned and figured in the brain. Think of the way a musical box, wound up, potentially represents a slow or lively air.

Clothes, however thick, diminish little the sonorities of breath. Touch the stop and the air sounds out; send an impulse along the proper afferent nerve and voice starts on song. Succussion, too, may raise a splashing sound much like the respiration, voice, and tinkling. Odd.

Garments of silk, or thin dry wool, also give rise to a noise calculated to cause error, sometimes mitigating the production and carefully controlled cropping of live creatures for high ends. Else, from every corner of the woods and glens see them come creeping on their hands, for their legs cannot make fast, as in humans the larynx migrates down the neck since the age of eighteen months, from which arises the sound of voices. In time these come to speak of a political meeting, of market shares. Someone tells of a woman who murdered her lover. "A chauffeur kills his wife," says another. All teetotallers like sugar. No nightingale drinks wine. Go figure.

The respiration of the plumpest child is louder clothed than of the thinnest adult frame stripped down. The throat is delicate and worthy to be protected. Says who? Whose voice? What proof is there these brutes are other than a superior race of marionettes, which eat without pleasure, cry without pain, desire nothing, know nothing, merely simulating true intelligence, for all it has been said that when emotions stir within, they take form in words?

To be included here is the agopithecus, an ape-like goat whose voice is very like a man's but not articulate, sounding as if one did speak hastily with indignation or sorrow, as here, where one such encounters in the woods a boy: "What's that you have?" The boy holds it out. It is a toy, a bear. A teddy bear. The boy's eyes are large, but without expression. "I don't want it, keep it." The boy hugs the bear again. A house takes fire. Later comes the writing of authorizations and designs on shop window tickets, and of inscriptions too private to allow printing.

In women who are both grown up and fat, the respiration is often audible with great force, even through the breasts. When your raptors are at fault, prevent all speech: let such as follow them ignorantly and unworthily, stirrup all aloof , for whilst such are chattering, none will hunt. A-propos, Sir, a politician will say: "What news from America?" A-propos, "Do you think both the admirals will be tried? Or, a-propos, "Did you hear what has happened to my grandmother?"

Such rustling sensations are nothing else than a purring-thrill, and when this co-exists with the sound of the bellows, rasp, or file we may be assured others will soon resemble anatomies of death, like ghosts crying out of their graves, and will eat the dead carrions, happy where they find them, and the very carcasses they spare not to scrape back out of their deeper sleep.

Ticket writers may proceed to designs for posters when they can name their own figure. The illusion of experience, as a rule, begins by filling in provided letters with paint, and later gets on to the proper writing and lettering. Attendance at technical classes would be useful in order to bring up a good style of writing with some originality.

A dull but strong sound like that produced by a file on wood has something harsh in its sound. So, other boys start as heaters, then exercise as rivet-carriers, holders-up, anvil-hands, and lastly platers. Hear the whizzing sound of the left auricle.

Caution: Boys are often required to stand inside the chamber, as supporters, while the men pierce, and then hammer it outside, and deafness is apt to result. I found one who had abandoned his laborious occupation, and gained an easy place as servant to a priest.

Work with letters may be done sitting without difficulty and is quite suitable for cripples. The trade is not a large one.
 
 

In order
   to succeed
        a boy
should have a
    taste
        for drawing

ties
    with wild
        designs
unrestrained
    by thumb-
        tacks,

and thereby
    put by
        for a secure
old age
    a tidy
        sum,

for he might yet
    have to pit
        a warrant
'gainst a blackjack,
    drag
        his doll

with teats
    hitched,
        not as the fastidious
permit,
    but heaved
        in fullest view

by a snurting,
    as if some crack
        ensemble
had outrageously
    let
       fly

against all
    refined
        precedent
when we would have
    some prudence
        hinder her.

"Rear
    exit and begone,
        my own
exhibitionistic pet!
    Let's catch
        the track

will lead us
    to our train
        of state,
then venerably
    process."
        "A chorus

we must have
    to free ourselves
        of drills
and drawbacks,
    trials
        and tribulations."

Experience
    will seize
        the way.
Don't fix
    what ain't yet broke.
        You've heard it's true

that by a snifting
    clack
        the air
is expelled
    from the
        pickle-pot.

Trevor Joyce

>>>The Bellman's Story by Tom Lowenstein

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