From: Frater Almost Area: Thelema To: Tau Ursa 9 Jun 92 03:21:10 Subject: Ahem?! :) Rec'd Sent UpdReq I do hope to make it up that way soon.... VERY soon... Like at the end of summer or the begining of Fall! I need to discuss some things with you, Tau....... Things most unusual. ;) Also, I need to bring Ed some antihystamines... I missed one chance but I'm definately _NOT_ going to make the same mistake twice! };> Heheheheheheh! Seriously, tho, I'd love to meet all of you....... Sounds like a plan to me.... ;) Or, if you Will, you may come and Visit Anubis Camp.... We'd be happy to see you all! Pax. 93 ...Ed Wolfe is as Fine as God. 718499927771849992777184999277718499927771849992777184999277718 From: Tau Ursa Area: Thelema To: Frater Almost 9 Jun 92 19:42:42 Subject: Ahem?! :) Sent UpdReq Re: Ed. Wolfe is as fine as God. Don't let him know that. It will swell his head and he won't be able to get his pants on. Look forward to your visit. I don't think I will be able to get away from the BIG apple this summer. 93 Tau 718499927771849992777184999277718499927771849992777184999277718 From: Edward Wolfe Area: Thelema To: All 9 Jun 92 19:44:54 Subject: (!) Sent UpdReq ================ = Poetic Rants = ================ Paul Roe/Edward Wolfe (c) 1992 Brooklyn, New York With fire and light in their eyes, Do I find the servents of None; Masters of all they survey, Hearts as bright as the Sun. ^--Edward Wolfe Pull my vocal cords tight From their turtle looseness Unstring my nippled sails From their tight masted drape Roll in that gang plank That invades other ships Those more like Pink portuguese man-o-wars Than old carribean skiffs Pry off the fruit cellar door Sealed since day twenty in the womb Plough the only named plain For one last time Stick gold rings in both my ears And you too then can be my dear. ^--Paul Roe 'The Path is Set', the stone had revealed To me, as I wandered about the Aire; 'Never should thou worry, prophet, for their Woes, thou should not care'. ^--Edward Wolfe When someone mentions cake When I'm reading wild poems It seems like cake is sugar-chalk. When I'm in the midst of a vapory Stew, and gobbling, a fishy twat Is putrid, and a poem, paltry and distant. When I am fucking, a poem Is like the frame of a pot That I can beat my stick against. It is rote words I pace my tempo with and Pizza fails to dampen my tongue. ^--Paul Roe *** Will/Love; Lust; -wolfe ... It is only now that I see the sick sense of humour in it All 718499927771849992777184999277718499927771849992777184999277718