Wednesday, October 04, 2006


Dont plod this trave. or tine to her frost ear, paring tooth to her comb soot. Pearly hour to this year, yer scenting wave profuse to each catch-as-catch can. Up here is eglantine, a hierophant to his glimpse.

thedaythe nightwas riveted by plain of scribing terror. volcanic ash to hurry along her swain longleft.we sorcerers know the way to stars, and blank heavens.In Persia we found firmament and persil.Not parsimonius, or Petronius but love.Her body. glued.Antinous, Orpheus, and splayed Sapphothe other double . One.'

Shitty afternoon she haggard. After hour Paris, not swagged by dear and boars-hound ,it was a phooey shirt that telled of Paris' and his sweet tucked bat. Shoo! not so a gooey-goo-goo, or a mooey-moo-moo, of hey-di-ho and . Marble and air, he is two of them in bed with him. Head by head, and lip over double lip folded his arms a curl. Vase.