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An Excercise in Style: Arthurian
At midday on a shuttle of S, sat silently a man.
Atop his hat wrapped a rope, not a ribbon he wore.
Anger chimed from this chap, by a chivalrous young fellow.
Then he seized a seat, a spot in which he’s content.
In 120 minutes meandering, the man in gare I saw.
With another cat he conversates, contemplating a button.
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Written here is my personal take on the base story from Raymond Queneau's An Excercise in Style. I've chosen to replicate Thomas Malory's consonant stress formula of xx/xy for every sentence, resulting in a structural recreation of Alliterative Morte Arthure's poetry so that it can be "Arthurian".