The Great White Woman

     Before her immense window as high as a cathedral window, the
great white woman with a great mouth full of elephant's tusks and
with rubber feet vibrates toward the majestic gut of nothingness.  But
what makes her as stylized and shaven as milk is a monument of naked
air in the naked air that shouts and wears gloves.  The great white
woman is completely naked.  Her eyes are white.  Her arms are white.
She currycombs the air and polishes her elephant's tusks.  The great
white woman, unrestrainedly white with a vengeance, scorns to eat her
fragrant time in the extinct grass.  She vibrates toward the majestic
gut of nothingness, I said, I repeat, and I'll repeat it as often as 
necessary.  She is impatient to work hard or whatever you care to call it.
Her airplanes are already arriving with objects and leaving them at the 
feet of the majestic gut of nothingness.  In a terrifying and remunerated
élan, and shrieking like a crocodile, she leaps through the window
upon the objects dancing around the majestic gut of nothingness and
eats them up.  She eats Tiroleans, defenestrators, dirty grease, whole
elephants, elephants, elephants, and still more elephants and even more
elephants, venerable servants dead or alive, sugared augusts, depraved
alphonses, salted children, heavyweights, lightweights, decorative ones,
proud ones, valiant ones, diplomatic cigars, government cigars, quack,
quack, quack, navies, railroads, apartments, diabolical government
coffee, quack, quack, quack, homemade sex appeal, etc.  She eats, she
eats her own grandmother as well as several other grandmothers and
whatever those grandmothers throw out of their accumulated existence
replete with phosphorus and pleasure-lakes and conveyed in litters of
electric light and facing a fall of eyes around dandyish children
eligible for a government pension, quack, quack, quack.  The grand-
mothers bring along billions of flies in billions of zeppelins, and
slap at them incessantly with long, large, and certified hands.  They
transform macabre mushrooms into perpetual life.  At, in, and on the
grandmothers, the grass remains alive.  But since the grandmothers
smash in the faces of spendrift opuses, all the true diplomats without
respite rub the windows of time.  The great white woman eats.  She eats
orange marmalade, piano paws, scalps of pity, ransom, monuments with
feet coming and beseeching.  She eats heartily like little children,
without respite and over and over again.  She foams, she perspires,
she grinds her teeth and realizes that she has to outdo herself and
crown her already inconceivable work.  Not having anything else to eat,
she pulls out her elephant's tusks, her rubber feet, her white eyes,
her white arms, she eats herself up, uttering a terrible shriek: quack,
quack, quack, she finally eats the majestic gut of nothingness.

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