Wednesday, November 29, 2006


Baby saith Jill sang of blood and curse, the cutter slinking along bay and broom. Come there to this bucksome ranger.

"in the blogoverse of the curse of the gallant the
singlular hour of top masts me hearties, for swinging around the pike
the dromedary dromos
the top gallant mast
pipin the
furl foam
its loam
a comb
back and back its darling woes and summers the rest" Something her heard Orpheus say
phoned from the wagon wetter. cow thing. you know?

Its Mona's Mother Mary.