Friday, December 01, 2006

a better of green hope

Baize, a golf course, a bottle of green hope, bootlegger, not licked to seven seas, when bending prays chart their course. not a singular sense of believing but more of its booming as when a child finds a god lancing the creed, knowing full well the time's come for leaving and the summer saunter has bended its intelligence gentlemen covet its force Earsheard the narrative had its becoming fissured to something fine a furze over pastures moorings unlent to its subject hopping a ride south to the maze and the gods are not an institute but a coarse cloth wearing a cape really learnt at the doctrines of presenting rage.

And some thing opens the door, a grace put by pillows, not cold by winter's hearth a first commenncement stelae and igneous hearing the carry noon and the star

Jill knows this sex's her thigh climbed to her love one_ two. After querying the place.

At an unplanned preview camps on the strata like any ball bearing bays the rue and sunset of royals.

She zing
She zing
She zing! the place

as Antioedipus