Saturday, July 29, 2006

and quickly

Mona had poetic capital to spend and spend she did soprano to her injuries pernicious to the tongue doing
soprana to her love glove stuck in her throat so And she popped a totalizer toaster not seeming to trap herselves in the rempli of doing become bats made in China a zap lover’s body of the hijabbed maiden to monkey her lesbic call her sapphic twist on what was the height span of her orgasm date slippingthe body was away as she did the asses the breasts in her mouth were filled with his

poetic capital give it away


her cube eyes came into her hair;cameo in the Zellers market mark up boy was her twisted lover body hung around his the homosexual and I don’t go home with strangers she said rubbing her geology study into her heart and her ass winked across the star and starts of the sun. what mother would drown her kid in a fire of hats, prepared to sing the love lullubabies of her blogocursed wares. Shall she be done in the undone of composed to her love and handling her hair back to the barbarians. He said to her self face, I like ugly I like ugly I like ugly

Come to my hill of elf and we shall ugly be

He heft lift the work of sky into night her hand

Thursday, July 27, 2006


tag you're it, said Jill Deleuze , no, not me, Felix crows, its the hop scotch berry of the dawn, betty's bloomin' buttocks, her peeled cherries and wax amaze filters, its the night of quatum and processual molarities. as your mouth skips up a beat, treating its teat of mother love to Oedipus and her charms a keep sake for other year , and harms. outside the war the chain saw, the ramble of matter, its grease thought provoke.


is this a retarded sophistry of amber and glaze, or booting felt pen like lutes to the brim of semper deterritorius.

-- is that innneroution? is that plaza close to place holder of footed velvent claw fleet?

she ankle her way to the bellside table of her hooking body, sway them hips to his ride em down baby love.

thus Jill professed the stars and other planets as the goose Dante called love's haptic haggard this might very well be Baco's spider. SHe spits off her clothing, a body of cybertooled vest ware,
software to his warehouse of lover, boy, Oh yes, boy oh Boy!
she match the beet of origami with flypaper of candle to her strawberry breast nipple to his mouth tasting hunger.


Wednesday, July 26, 2006

we're tired you were

You weren't tired enough to end the war, what
war was that one encore, a light R to end it,
a light leaning thing to stop its almighty paw
killin more

We're tired of the drums of war, Yearny, we're tired.

We're tir'd of cancer and bones, and death. and depleted uranium and tired we are . exhausted.

Mona clomb the high hill of that famous poem, weary eyed, her tears blazing down. the fulsome debate of its death.

Friday, July 21, 2006

I am fiction itself (selves selving ...

cross that out pretend you dont exist, hold the shape of the lump up to the cancer. dancer of foxwalk and rhyme chow. of ababaccccc. or abracadabra
inside everytruck driver is anunance. once you deject these is alt spin of wheat driven snow or gold rivetted pane. of winning and winning her heart was the sacking of troy

the sacking of troy
and she sang back each bitten day
each bitten ray of her heart
marked the place of her death her death
as it seemed was a walking spoon
a talking spoon for gathering knave.
of her ebortion and pave.

Fictions of Deleuze and Guattari@2000
Clifford Duffy

I am fiction itself

__ and

so she was itself, Mona in adumbrating upbraiding comic of the statuesque
trilled its pintle along side of the bakery where she's hung over
looping the terrace of its periwinkle.

Now is that a faucet, or a maxim?
an aphorism or some cult of the becomings return?



them their numbers is the mini--plates, or plateaus and (not the
aristotles which are the Ari-Stotle stratas). Now this is from a part of my
Dis sertation.

Regards, Mona. Clifford Duffy

Thursday, July 20, 2006

drums of war+ knight

____drums of war

___war war war

Intime a knight came riding riding riding Franny saw the window saw the window
up against the shore lor'd's father. It was not poor for knave its set carking kale.
but rampant cameo swathes. Some do as she leaned she leaned on the sill,
a tickled hair in her face, as the shark, as the shark held its bait, the lampoon
of its regaling self the noxious sweep of her eye. This was held in his hand,
the twin, the winter of. Fanny shouted shouted I cannot remember I cannot

Saturday, July 15, 2006

time to

Time to courtly kicks the running stage of its off beat source. Crackled by dusk
its onion light, the storm window gathering the slipped off gathering gloom. Or something like this, which switches the play back ticker-tape. Memory tellls the hour ringing in the play of its awesome spell.

Jill pings the plateau. Franny handles the pneumatic character of its staging not close to the other flip side of her three-quarter profile its secondary bit part . Not some phrase of accidental cow hide, but a place a woman can hide in another one's skirt, looking at the time. Not the river of story and the outside of hunger but a sheet metal bridge, traceries of a tamed wrought-iron by filigreed face lines.
Covering the amaze of her ledge, come humdinger down to her linguistic taught.

Jill spreading her dress for his eyes to see as eyes his travel the line of her leg,
around the thigh of her close quarters , the cloud colour of her mound. It's a hum sound comes then, as reaching in, she him they in the place of bodies bold and two backed breast their kiss.

Friday, July 14, 2006

bicker room toy

Bicker room gals 've been known to write bic pen mating session. Closed to oil and fire or steaming stamps near term's end, semesters of body dazed by dates runged and runed by facture.
Or say a fraction of the "growing heat" the "dead dawn" hot places where the "sun dont shine anymore" this was the grammar of Jill's nacreous marking down fate. the prose sentence of her vessel verse, filled sail ahead.


Not everyone is can to see it this way, you know. It's a failsome moment when those who do. It's a long tide yanked back and a ride or so to the sun of heels, the pennnat of pain, the cattle of bones backlogging your fate.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

wld you mind, please

moving over so I can see my haunted house in your hands,
your palms cupped around mine, and the rain
rising moment of our body?

this she spoke in the scent of the hour
Whisper the air


How're we gonna pay the rent,
tucked behind her ear
of sayings and whatnots,
turn the plateau over
another place and time


Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Coming Soon Grace O'Malley the Irish Pirate Queen|& Anne Bonny!

in bucanner privateer land was the whole land of recomposed bodies bode their neighing horsing high the gallip gavaunt
Coming Soon Grace O'Malley the Irish Pirate Queen& Anne Bonny!
Grace O'Malley. her lover the bisexaul lesbian queens of the seamet Mona and Oona Jill and Orpheus ANtioedipus

even some Eurydicebt one has to beware of Eurydicii!
they're like little Oedipii!

tant pis!and they live at rue loup 4 Bis~!oh these and them fRictionS.


Coming Soon Grace O'Malley the Irish Pirate Queen|& Anne Bonny!

in bucanner privateer land was the whole land of recomposed bodies bode their
neighing horsing high the gallip gavaunt
Coming Soon Grace O'Malley the Irish Pirate Queen& Anne Bonny!
Grace O'Malley. her lover the bisexaul lesbian queens of the sea

met Mona and Oona Jill and Orpheus ANtioedipus

even some Eurydicebt one has to beware of Eurydicii!
they're like little Oedipii!

tant pis!and they live at rue loup 4 Bis~!

oh these and them fRictionS.

On est tousjours a dela des choses

so it goes
and t'was

sixteen brothels
forty two canon
millions of bucket of water then silk or milk
parade of geese
elephant goin to delta
shark pending teeth
sail boat seal
cape breton flags waving 'off the coast'
of geology and other sickles
star grazer of bent feet

Sunday, July 02, 2006

over here

over here! it shouted as leaned by brick balconies it wavered. hugged next to the speed of it with no time to wait, hankering its momentous river of caught. wheat blared in the trumpets of
cave as he hindered the shackles weighing in with 'his' as it was called nacreous shares
calibrated by investments with god desire & other spare care.

shall we call this the tourniquet of please?

Jill salvoed & shaved the instant.

Should we call it the torn tourniquet of bouquets? snap dragons?
lillies, gimping flax weed, dragonflies, water capes,
willowy hours, hanging on grass overlooks.
and so it went adding, piling more hill and dale of her
silver fox meadow.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

meoldid baker jam

meoldid baker jam banking the river suckering hour chasing tea by grand flannelette gene. so swoop of arm custers its last stand, swings the syzyzgy.

if this huff of yer hair before her very womb gapes not its measure
Ill have no meal . Stammer. Come now. its heart wilt . of very fair. and knock it out. of its prepuce lawn.not started by soldier and commenders. and this prose tweaked by it s tassel off feet fringed in appearance its garment worn tooth saw of its lacklustre . No! shouting Mona, of her telephone
rigged to hear its latest call to back and forth the .

the one. she huggered there. body ill sick. wick without her. ribbed pain cutting off.

time one

time one tie shoe of that shaker'd spotless
as the white death of dress shooken to ending
less stagerie of fright mock of heigth is that her word, as she covers the tracking of repression its six thousand tigers and not lilies of their vacuum cleaner. forward go the death single to rate its finger some express selves but inside eaves of roofs there remain the