Having wandered thus far through a tangled growth of curses and "manifestoes" the patient reader comes upon a little open space, where sits one Ezra Pound writing vorticist. "poems." The note of revolt is at once struck Latur deride, the smugness of The ensuing lines to the puzzle experts of the monthly magazines, the closing defiant and nfal lines may be quoted re is the taste of my Boot, Caress lick off the Blacking.""
Vorticist Dram:
The editor of "Blast" has _perpetrated a "play" called "The enemy of the stars," a light, fantasy tie work, possessing not a single intelligible line from beginning to end. The author himself might describe it as frantically fatuous and dazzlingly obscure. Here at any rate we see the volatile vorticist at his best and his worst—the words re synonymous in this connexion. Miss Rebecca West contributes a comparatively simple, but quite incomprehensible, story under the title Indissoluble Matrimony.
vadne!"" He sprang to his feet. "You're preparing your speech did not move. bout to touch its climax. The knife is raised, when Fvadne intervenes with this:— be "You idiot, can't you hear the Kettle is He shrank back, letting the knife tizad drop to the floor"
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.