sumthingin her was joystick and merry
Mona wasthe darLing machine of the mass
she wore coloured sticks in her hair
and had feet on her tongs!
A schizophrenic out for a stroke is more excit'd than a morning filewith teeth. It’s death on the night undone unsaying the coeternal beat of the light faded by edifyng glances down the strange of time. Knot some saying along her back playing the girl of night and her hummer back… not lived as nature or walnuts between the tasting teeth of L. the dark lore of her huddle eyed picasso elf eye So much apple in the nut is pleasing. Various gaits not the gate to the door that opened to Song see and its partial place of knock and wood. Then the mist appeared. It was vase and the optic place steered and the high down dead feeling a finely tuned machine by Sheila’s roses we walked. A fantastic tatoo a repression silence drunk deeper than night and Hilda’s highs. Over the ship overboard and starboard the buckets of sheep were crying. Murky caves spade of hand shuffling the deck a tape made in the tee black copper and a candlestick stretching the stellar canvas of her posh her pish posh look gem as in the gleaming not swirled in the lyricism another cynicism in the cunningness of things. Not the unread letters returned the absence of warmth cordiality and near courtesy of day stepped to night. A glass a glass my hand Franny says it does not mean we are tying nature to a pole of schizophrenia but we’re making a pleasure boat that turns over the capital vehicule. Is that possible Jill’s daughter shouted as the check spun in the air fluttering to the ground. What is a stone sucking candy mouth but the motor of its intent, even if that is spurn, and not day says done.
So single in its intent 'must be love' like her body flowin' in the courtyard, the Coupole of sanction and tea, and an endless deluge of w