Abstract
4 2 Y O R A C L E W A R R E N S L E S I N G E R The water worried me when the gray face that floated over it in lines and patches to the shore lapped and slavered at the edges, and sucked at the sack of its tongue. The water worried me for a scud of white saliva was its spit, and the gray face that floated over it in line and patches to the shore tugged at the ruptured fundament, its teeth pebbles overgrown with moss. The water worried me when it muttered a riddle of bubbles and du√ as the gray face that floated over it in lines and patches to the shore crumpled at the corners of its mouth and eyes. The water worried me for it ground its teeth on the truth that drew me to it. ...
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