* <<F8S.0942>>
We few have long sung the song of Arcix, the fog-burner;
His blacktarp cape, his tinpot hat, his hose-cuirass, his eyes
Occulted like two spirit orbs whose gaze is always felt
But never seen; and of his lank, and his configuration,
..
There is a flag that waves, beneath invisible coils of electric fire,
where stands the house of Lorgat. Caressing draughts of heavy aether
exhaled by the ursine earth billow that steely flag in slow and
hypnotic
undulations. Radiating arcs of
--
Excerpted from:
PUBLIC NOTES (F)
http://alph.laemeur.com/txt/PUBNOTES-F
©2015 Adam C. Moore (LÆMEUR) <
[email protected]>
