NP; looks like the Dem Primary is kinda like Iceland Sparring.....

[Glenn Scheper]

Interpeting Emily Dickinson--

On Lewinsky again:

"My Husband" -- women say --
Stroking the Melody --
Is this -- the way?

Not only is such not The Way;
He proved in court, not even Sex.


On autocunnilingus as bride of the Lamb,
Queen of Heaven, the first and second of
those fours, on either side of the AF JC:

My figures fail to tell me
How far the Village lies --
Whose peasants are the Angels --
Whose Cantons dot the skies --
My Classics veil their faces --
My faith that Dark adores --
Which from its solemn abbeys
Such ressurection pours.


On AF-interruptus before that 4th beast,
whose own ten fingers are the ten kings
crowned by her pussy, seated to the north
of the Lamb, as done on Rosh Hashana, 2000;
which imputation of non-coitus (I saw a vision
of intercourse in progress, over which a stamp
"CENSORED" was stamped), is as said to John,
"seal up the things that the seven thunders
uttered" and His final overcoming of Death:

Death's Waylaying not the sharpest
Of the thefts of Time --
There Marauds a sorer Robber,
Silence -- is his name --
No Assault, nor any Menace
Doth betoken him.



Same topic, recognizing that the "pale"
of the 4th is actually CLOROS, green:

There came a Wind like a Bugle --
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat
So ominous did pass
We barred the Windows and the Doors
As from an Emerald Ghost --
The Doom's electric Moccasin
That very instant passed --
On a strange Mob of panting Trees


On AF as situated between earth and sea,
which are Rev's 1st & 2nd, but are also
as AC, proving, "Heaven is a beach":

The lips at Hallelujah
Long years of practise bore
Til bye and bye these Bargemen
Walked singing on the shore.


On AC as an island, like Manhattan:

My Splendors, are Menagerie --
But their Completeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,
An Island in dishonored Grass --
Whom none but Beetles -- know.


On AF Dante meeting AC Beatrice,
antitype of the WTC-1 and WTC-2
as at the end of Purgatorio:

The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,
The wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,
Their spirits meet together, they make their solemn vows,
No more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.


That's all I could read in a few minutes...

Yours truly,
Glenn Scheper
http://home.earthlink.net/~glenn_scheper/
glenn_scheper + at + earthlink.net
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