a kind of galactic clock which resets itself:
I know I have said this time and time again

but I am a personal butler known for upholding
unrivalled levels of personalized service –
and I exceed guest expectations –

yet get a lesser merit percent
and the seqence gets longer and longer.

a kind of galactic clock which resets itself:
I know I have said this time and time again

but they converted when they needed to.
“I’ve seen him hit some of those shots time and time again.”

I am a personal butler known for upholding
unrivalled levels of personalized service –
and I exceed guest expectations –

but time and time again you keep pushing that button:
time and time again we hoof it forward:

“time and time again the car drove round the block”
and the seqence gets longer and longer.

Dexter Manbly had come out to the field behind his house to lay down and look at the stars. It was summer, he had already started to itch, he had already started to feel the mosquitos. He had never been able to sit like this, doing nothing. He did not “appreciate” this.

Although eighty years old he found himself thinking of the fact that even these days he could be persuaded of almost anything. He could be in terrible pain, for example, and some one would tell him in a stern way that, no, he actually wasn’t in pain, and he would say “You’re right, I’m not.” He might feel the same pain he had felt before, but was so tractable and credulous that whatever someone told him was the case had more reality to him than what he knew to be true. He could be made to believe in almost anything that he didn’t actually think.

He was contemplating this –wondering how a person could be this way — how a whole life could have been spent like this– remembering all the instances when something like that had occured– when suddenly he saw what looked to be an enormous broom and janitor’s mop passing over the heavens. He rubbed his eyes, and it was gone, yet he was sure of what he’d seen. He rose at once to tell someone.

War-Nar heaved his vast panels of stars against the blank space, constructing the walls of the universe in the areas of the Briny Sun. He saw Erntol and ceased in his work, laying the vast panels of galaxes to his side where his lunch pale rested, and waved to the speeding custodian. “Wlkk-all–caback?” he said. Erntol spoke into his vox, “I’m pretty good War how bout you?” Warnar pointed to his endless aching back, to the aching joints that gripped the stars and placed suns and planets into their fittings; then, smirking, he raised again the panels and continued in his endless work.

It was time for Margrum to stop noting down others’ vocabulary. It was making people uneasy. A person would start talking to him and in no time he would be whipping out his notebook and writing down the words he didn’t understand. Margrum sought to persuade them not to be angry: that, not only was he listening to them, he was literally trying to get every word– that that’s why he did this– but people thought it was just bizarre and even, perhaps, carried the backhanded assertion that they should not use words that Margrum didn’t know. They felt as uneasy as if they’d been photographed. Margrum discontinued the practice.