Monday, June 3, 2013

A Loose & Sluttish Interpretation of Malory

Dear Sirs...

Perhaps you did not receive my letter sent yesteryear on the glorious manifestation of serpents' souls. Good masters and mistresses know the coil and slither, the hiss and dry-throat rattle of the underfoot.

Dear Madam...

Knowest thou the ungentle and less-than-affectionate heart of all mankind?  Do not trust, my loved one. The smug are reptiles wrapt around your tender robin throat.

Good Christians...

Knowest thou revelry and the sainthood of a joyous home?  Kindness is an illuminated archway and the creak thou thinkest your conflicted foulness is a gate opening to allow you enter.

Parfit Ladies and Gentle Knights...

Knowest thou sluttish imperfections of everyday admission into the final chamber? If thee beat down your most mean and useless self-seekings you will be and are now there.

With affections and lamentations,

[Sarah Sarai, June 3, 2013] [written because this Malory ms. page inspires with its penship] [written because writing baffles depression] [written because yesterday and tomorrow are here always]

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