1. Anything you can perceive is
“a part of the universe.” Delete.
2. As most patterns do! Choose another word.
3. "Grace" is a kind of icky, sugar-coated
preacher man’s filler word bereft of any real
meaning. Try something else.
4. “In that which?” How about in what which or
in which witch? Come on, author!
5. What artist? Where? Who? Is it Van Gogh or
someone? Where did this artist come from? What
are you talking about?
6. Sounding kind of Japanese here. Worried
you’ll start writing about cherry blossoms and
bamboo. Dung has only two seasons: summer and
more summer. We publish regional publications
here at Desert House so stay regional!
7. Need a verb here for “sand trails.” I mean,
what do these sand trails actually do along a
8. Need a verb for these “branch clusters” as
well and perhaps a definition of just what they
9. Repeating the word “pattern” here.
10. Congrats this time on writing “its” instead
11. We? This second person inclusiveness is
artificial. Readers don’t like inclusion because
they are assumed to agree with the writer when
they may not.
12. “Patterns” again!
13. “Seeking the rhythms, the dance the forms
that comfort?” Oh, barf! We? Not I
mister! See why the reader doesn’t want
to be included?
14. Out of the clear blue you write, peril?
What peril? And why so gloomy all of a sudden?
15. I thought all this hair splitting was about
patterns—now it’s suddenly “ultimate
perfection?” And how is finding perfection
perilous in the first place? Doesn’t make a lot
16. “Ultimate?” You JUST used this word!
Thesaurus! PS How can one try to "copy" "these
patterns" or worse; how does one "copy"
for the FOURTH time in only
seven sentences! Four out of seven, more
than half of them: 57.14 percent!
You must be kidding? Fixodent©
is also a word,
but that doesn’t mean it would
make sense here either!
19. Getting gloomy again!
AND HERE IS THE FIRST DRAFT OF "The Tin Ear
Hymn" which is a parody of (and yet still an
IMPROVEMENT over) Herbert's ridiculous poem:
This Fremen religion like all religions,
then, is the source of what we now recognize as
"The Nauseouness of the Universe," whose Quickie
Taffy Verses are among us all with signs and
prophecy. They bring us the Ascarisian mystical
fusion restaurants whose profound tastiness is
typified by walrus souffle, Swedish meatballs
with cilantro and and ranch style schnitzel
stamped with the words “Not Intended for Human
Consumption.” Who has not heard and been moved (
and deeply so) by "The Tin Ear Hymn?"
I drove my geese through a desert
Whose goslings whinnied like drunken horses
Voracious for voracity and greedy for greed.
I traipsed the inanity of Fosterian verse
I saw erosion level both hillocks, dells, and my
In its quest, its ravenousness to brunch on my
And I saw the canaries furiously flapping hither
Big, bold canaries like charging hippopotamuses
That spread unctuousness
Upon the briar patch of my budding literacy
I felt the hippos lightly roosting
On my young green shoots
And their tiny, scratchy feet tickling my
HERE'S THE ORIGINAL FROM THE BOOK
has not heard and been deeply moved by “The Old
drove my feet through a desert
mirage fluttered like a host.
for glory, greedy for danger,
roamed the horizons of al-Kulab, Watching time
its search and its hunger for me.
I saw the sparrows swiftly approach,
then the onrushing wolf.
spread in the tree of my youth.
heard the flock in my branches.
was caught on their beaks and claws!
Awakening” by the Princess Irulan