Ramblings
I
My stomach is a whale. That whale which Columbus spotted. There are times when I hesitate not to breathe out saltwater. I grow tired of howling voices.
II
My tongue, and my mouth, every time I have a fever, grow thick with ferns.
III
I wonder, it is just me who thinks of a large sago palm every time he has diarrhea?
IV
When I hear my stomach rumbling, I feel as though I am giving birth to shark eggs.
V
I have come to feel that, when I am wrought by depression, that there are lice crowded throughout all the folds of my brain.
(May 1926)