I have always asked:
what gurgles forth, as if sulphur and child’s bone in the cauldron of the
witch, from the vast waters? What is it that she sings, these words and noises
spat from the larynx of deepest sea graves? What is her wisdom as she lies
there, right there on the bottom, this Holy fleshly monolith slumbering on the
icy floor of the very depth which outdeeps all other depths?
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