Not a single cloud mars the flawless azure; / Not a shadow moves o'er the moveless crops; […]

My angles dusty, two black hands on the rusty And I got uck from a peng ting, mad back but the chest busty

Saul said, Cast lots between me and Jonathan my son. And Jonathan was taken.

The critical tradition has a lot to say about the distorting effects of othering but has yet to even imagine the mind that is postdeconstructive—“the subject after deconstruction […]”.