Thursday, June 4, 2009


Hearsay, I say hawthorn, crowned with grey echelon. I shell shilling shipmate furtive weasel originally my entourage my black plumage was wan was porphyrean purple. And now all the birds named  Ferdinand have packets of ketchup and take dictation. We say go ahead, smear the statues with mustard, befoul them with guano, with sinister copulatory ministrations. The past is only maudlin wisps consumed as leverage or as gradient constellation of falcons spawning hieroglyphic dust motes. These calques of finger paintings are reduced to bee kisses by which we weld atonal loops to compose mercurial orbit. We, children of the night suppose suppository justice burning out blankets of agrammatical innuendo. Berkeley’s barcode crawdaddy of Edam thunders past us, wedging its crapshoot between driftwood and thimble bulat. Churlish butterfat modifying reindeer dilation with greedy onion jouissance. Twill by twinge engraining our solar plexus, that fugue vermiculite yourself a shibboleth. As if you never knew why they mined the rabbit opacity for caudated potatoes. Lateral gesticulation teases the bird from repose and declares the limits of the equation. The tongue its own plectrum reaching the azimuth self of slab, the thermidor of mutton chop, the libidinous sfumato, murky mercy, crepuscular rain gear.

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