I contain multiplicity. I say it on 8 occasions daily.
or son! It is a painful thing to
and rolling!)Tufts of straw, sands,
in Virginia's woods,Bold, cautious,
has no particular Sabbath or
grand!I do not know what it is,
ignominy of a nativity or colour, or
with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops,It
odium, unchanging, long and long, Through youth, and through
long bar of maroon-tint, away solitary by
at hand to you a throat is now inflating
and dumb, idiots, hunchbacks, lunatics;I
and blood;Back on his pillow
my way toward you;Sound your
of infantry shifting positions
cannons, bright as gold, drawn along,
long-running Mississippi, and down to
or misanthropy or cunning or
you call sin, and what you call
triumph of things.3.
O harsh surrounding cloud that will not
Oulipo.social is a lipogrammatic Mastodon for all.
Ambigram by B. Morin, CC BY-SA 4.0