At eve we had a gale, some god (a bad one) fired a hit, as a déluge came. He perused a comic, a fib of Emily’s. A rude hit elicited a fit of irate water, an acute zig or a hazy zag of a divine fire lit us, as one more hit, even as I saw, abused a capitulum in a dim eve. Holes of a judas opened a pipeline to water, alined in a row of one mile, for a gale to ram it in — as a gale did at a water overage hated of Adam as of any vegetal, as abominated as is a baby-bemuser (or even a bemuser of one ripe) hit, or as a gale so barefaced as (oh, imagine !) to gag eve’s agogô.

Mat, Ari ; San Ekaterina (P.O.L ed.)