Anent Mine Concern For These, My Scribal Children

My most fervent hope is of the species that, It wonders most powerfully and unceasingly anent the security of These notebooks containing these selfsame poetic works; And I hope also, that asleep and secured is how they are put away. It must be for me to assume, and ah, yes, presume even such. Forever I must presume their safety, that of these notebooks, Else the very worst and most maternal ilk of Patent worry should invariably ensnare and enmesh me: It should eternally trap and bother me, this Baldfaced concern for these, my scribal children. Thus, within the compass of the caliginous fastnesses of The occluded drawer of my wicker-paneled, Square and flat-summited nightstand, They lay at rest; and, when I, of a night or Even a day, have little use nor need of them; And whensoever as my stylus has stilled its diurnal or nocturnal Movement, and is stationary, silent and at rest: Resting along with these many notebooks: These cribs and nurseries gently housing and cradling my poetic, Inscribed progeny, and there is then no hourly Requisite of further poetic parturition.