you dont see anything
a wide smile like faye dunaway
thats a face to crack. a wing along the putting trail. putting. Putting. yes we are intimately close.
what is she doing sitting there with Mister Tatoo and don't tell me Mister Tatoo is not wearing a sign of violence. She sits on her hands. Slightly cold. I don't believe she's with.
Not with.
The vanity of ecstasy is not . The vanity of stats .
the ghost of Graham just walked . In.
Then out. The Body disappearing.
In by to deterritorialize his guest. Not a symbiosis.
but the true territorial ghost of his self. A guest.
what is a guest. a knock knock knock. On the battlement
hearkened at night nigh to night!
dadadiscoesque is what she wrote along her hand hennaed.
its your semicolon
theres a weirdo i assumea second rate secondecup dealer with his doberman! gofucken figure
and LIke
and Like LIKE LIKE LIKE
the students like drove
groove you were wrong you were wrong this knight goes gift oriental not a slumber but a
sleeping giant fired to the ground ground and workered to ground and it drifts you say? somewhere now
and works the point 'what's up guys's?' says guy to girls pretending its the conceit pretence
its nota pretence its acommon conceit 'that bears examining?' notso wel so not. puffs a cigarette from ontario and parts elsewhere
--------------------------Like Like Like if she says one more like she'd pull her mouth off her
breast as she s sapphicsame sexed loved to the nth degree. Not a thousand tiny but a 100 giant sexes. She's ripped in gray flannel stat ~.
Her dum dog body ass cheeked to gulp gulpgulp forever. And remember she's lost commas and pages along the way the horse's hay and pregnant as a bush. She's worn out . but not down. this is a book Radio Fm Am Radio self. Time dates after A. B. No the date is organized around the dates A.B. and so on. but really the book's a diamond in the flaw. She's written the page of your health. Not a summer between her legs. Her hideyhideyhideyho ~ . The Michael Fredricks hero ism to prism.A busted geezer? Notso if Mona becomes. The second third and fourth return returning and coming . And finding refinding the hohey hammah
She's reversed gear. Coming along cd god. Not made but begetted by the only belonging father of many. The numerous multiplicity and complicity. Blue Dog shifts her gear. it's Antioedipus and Mona. Mona fries onions tells truth patterns seeks the belle mot. A mot juste to pair how do you spell pare . pare her finger nails. she's god not home. One beside the becomings.
Shes the ones making the revolt after. the city . after Bosnia . Machine guns blasting. School was just out. before the betrayal. of over love abandoned by the police of language. this power trap of she looks like Frankenstein but your eyes were not lying you were . the face is a monstrosity. Wont you lookat your own face? my feeces faeces is that how you spell itshit? feces faeces myface you ass feces the face . Captured plane heart .. not that's something else Her asscrack speaks volumes to the finger in the ass. Digging in there you come upon cloaca ~ that delicate floral of the Anus! O sweet perjured anus! everyone says youre an asshole. but, what would they become without your yearning darling release complete without buttocks?
----------------------------- Two and Two make a rock song ~.
----------------------
the butterfly looks green and so does your body come
there before dinner working the rounded end lips of your hope.
and love. near to the n
N ? what's that super symbol? or supreme clouds
lingering come on now you can do better than that.
she's holding a nosegay. not quartered or nailed by the
fife and gift but charmed by wishing bones and a relic
twisting on the honk and over the highway it's a respite
a trespass to other public giving and
forgiven by traceries and bon-bons the gewgaws
and running gifts open a fair magic box O not this steed
but a woken
Woken? yes. the first thimble of history and
that's all she holds close to the nape. O come on! she's got more
saying than that dont she? a black word pell-mell running outside and
in not a trope but a narrative barrier cussed by thought's capital
runnel . Rain and the gypsy thought. Pellucid pucker. There's no
thought like the tavern formal patterns and the youthful body
walking along keeping rhythm bobbing and walking that's why
I love her. She's a camel. no a fir tree, a giraffe . An ostrich.
her ass crack's open. floods of gate to . the beckoning of shit and sea.
Shit is sea before T. She hit the S. She hit S. and 'it' came raining .
Down along the clove and bearing ring. What bearing ring? You don't
mean bearing you . Liar. Not a contiguity but a broken theme there.
She's ugly as a Scheherazade. Completely keeping foul story and metaphor.
A vehicle for transporting pane and stretch black pants. Come on! delay it
high fidelity. Shes so ugly it cries.
Vascular and getting the trumpet going . Where does a sentence start.
Art the begining of cooking and time. Raw as beat onions. Ins and outs.
Clocks and watches. Misses her hep adolescent ass. Wears jeans to back
throw its glance in the ball bearings of chronos. But chronos is time.
Time is space with a given weed. Yer not making senses. I dont prophets
generally don't hover . Hover? Make money as ugly ones. What about Mona
------------------------------------
Jill tallies the fourth. Glancing at the be
and flower
husked by pain and rain
clover
and deep breath ~ .
_______________________________________________________________________
Jill tallies the fourth. Glancing at the be
and flower
husked by pain and rain
clover
and deep breath ~ .
_______________________________________________________________________
