Hand-written insert into

[Alan Sondheim]

Hand-written insert into

A Pocket Dictionary (Chinese-English) and Pekingese Syllabary by Chauncey
Goodrich, Shanghai: Kwang Hsuel Publishing House: 1933, representing the
214 radicals in a prose composition:

One down points to the left bent barb, two above men. Man enters eight
limits to cover the icy bench over the box of knives strong. He wraps a
ladle in a box and conceals it with ten diviners with joints under the
cliff with selfish right. At the third mouth of the enclosure the earth
scholar follows moving slowly till evening a big woman son. Under the roof
she inches along like a small lame corpse to get sprouts from the mountain
streams by work for her self. He gets thirty caps and shields for his
immaturity needs covering then move on till she gives him a bow, dart, a
boar's head, a plumage. Steps away for her heart like a spear from a
window a hand with branch strikes like an elegant bushel of axes. Squares
without sun she speaks under the moon of the wood still owing and asks him
to stop killing viciously. So he denies and compares his hair, name,
breath, fire, and the claws his father crosse. At from his coach he slices
like the tooth of an ox or a dog and the black jade melons on the tile so
sweet. We produce use things from the field with a cloth roll to keep off
disease as back to back with white skin we dish them before our eyes.
Lamas and darts on the stone reveal footprints grain the cave as set up
with bamboo rice. Silk threads of pottery are in a net of goat's feathers
of one who is old and yet able to plow with ears like pencils. In his
flesh the statesman from his arrival at the mortar with his tongue opposed
the boat of defiant color. In grasses a tiger and insects draw blood to do
up the clothes from the West with the sights of horned words. In the
bitter time of walking from the city with a winejar, each separate mile
near gold pieces (from the long) doors. When the mound is reached,
short tailed birds are in the rain on the green with wrong faces of
rawhide, leather, and leeks. At the sound of book leaves in the wind they
fly to eat the heads of the fragrant horses with bones on high. My hair
strives with the herbs and I offer to the vase of spirits, fish, birds
from the saltland, dear and wheat. Hemp strings and yellow millets, black
embroidery, toads, tripods, drums, and rats, noses. Even the front teeth of
dragons, tortoises, flutes.


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