Robert Kelly Deep-fry end of art, the awesome beseed us! I chain sin, I been a come-on, why the burst stitch, the trustless lobby and I chain door, halting the zen gear. The matter rose yet and word ended laughter's ken. O woe! Itch of watchin' cuntee. And see-saw gab be such under I-here, beer can shimmering, often-told tort. Dirge lay swapping us, numbed bison's spurt. He's rose-rich. Gay I am through doctors-for-lust. The dopy gain shrine and lacking priest errs (the fangs! the husky bleepy start!). I unearth wingly leaps and warts he eats. Gut him for all, I naked trauma by my clearing, we're off, I man the dank shithole of doom strike, and it's been awe's wry end, been nouns' tiger. 'Cause guns can glide sick in eerie swoon's ease, cook and tough her, salt her side ere parade is ghetto'd, and annoy. Hermit fails, broke unseen a bevy's fun, chicks all fanged. (Robert Kelly aus: Ain't her shtick/Ist's nicht ihr Dreh, in ZdZ 7/8; vgl. dazu: Norbert Wehr zu Robert Kelly und Schuldts Hölderlin-Oberflächen-Übersetzung.)