Last night of all, When yond same star That’s westward from the pole Had made his course t’illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, The bell then beating one –

Settle yourself in for a tale, my friends
I’ve spoken over thirty words and I haven’t even
To finish my sentence.
It was dark
It was just this time
(by the clock and the stars)
with just these people. . .
all circumstances were ripe
and I paint them with lush strokes. Sit you down.
When I guard the palace walls,
I write poems in my head
I have spent one hundred words on the shape of a stone
I have generated paragraphs on the point of my spear
Be careful when you ask me to tell you a story
I am going to tell it
I am going to spin it
Wind it around you
Like yarn on fingers
And a spinning wheel
I will wrap you up in it
Word by word
For my stories, you will need a comfortable chair
And a warm fire. You’re going to be here a while.

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