Thursday, November 02, 2006

was sweltered

professing the heart was hitting the spacious elbows sauntered the walk bard of flute, light of recording computerd the aorta of ciboriums and least of all her boxed children packing the winking lights weathering hours and morning


is that all Jill muses, wonders. Heading back to lecture hall the booking fills the room instantly hundred entreat the great One speaking his cross-word puzzle of a brain begging. No not begs, but rigs the Horus supreme symbol.


Mona O go back to an old book, will ya, Yearny? Hermlit Orpheus Antioedipus cant afford the glass-eye doom-gloom their pitch soft as the burnt night, embers.