A series of cabinets.
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hold horses death comes by like a might-y mouse sea.night cap to tea.rails against forest. quiver the eye-brow
.
a bending neck is always soothed by song.
what orgon melon's hampered by lust.winks of wind. is September's other game.
she wilds the wood on her haunch.
pardon me? I'm entitled to be ignorant.like a fire hydrant of stupidity she hucksters her navy blue shit.her tiny Wanda ass is no good for spades.
plays the card dealer backwards. she's a tramp without pants.
what's the bother without this cousin of pillars
eaves, and cantilever ?
shit with an onion tastes better than that.(the)
wheels of her gown choked back the 'wicked' consent.
turns a phrase into a substantive.argues first premises.supposed to have given a talkabout her past and how she came to be hereand whats happening
instead. a mistral. lecture. on the four burials of dawn.
a Listerine pepsodent talk.
(it's not "co-dependent')
Jill knows her shoes are rent. She's back bacon to her pork and beans. the machine the machine covets the sky. it's fictions over epistemology any day. all missives are first place in the running down. read the literature first. all augments are fouth staff.
reterritorializing the machine. shes desire bound for (the )playa ( a mesa of routines). cranberry and soup. not boysenberry. or galloped pages across the head of death.
going North lady and gentleman?or buried mule. kicking in sand.
Satan and her buddies share the gruel. Stuck to wheat.we always find clovers to wheat.
Heave the cup spoon over her backslung buttock.I 've seen the sand kicking the dead.they play checkers with the sun
When the big boom clutters the wrought room your knight
is paged for Ghent.
She's seen her overtures go dry.
Her ovarian soup come back.
What does sick mean? in this clinic?
You've half chipped the sun from its peasant wake.Knocked at the standing door of fountain.
She's roughed up the gage of her ceiling.No one knows the way back.
