Thursday, April 23, 2009

She was Mona

Jill was in Paris one summer last week. Translating transferring her dictionary . She was airy-faery but not Shiva to her merit. Or knock knock to hysterial tocktocck. She was two in one one to two as c times two is One. She was wrocking her translaketion of Fleeing and Nofingness.
So it whence, as bootstraps to her heels merited donkeys to her ABC.

This dearies, is the Antilogos of her care. not a stroller inthe sun by Penis and Farshaped wheels round the womb of love, its vagina a blessed sight to all men. A wedding vow blue to worship her decaded generations from old Eve to the contemporary sense of promise. So was Eve, her gay blue suit, a navy terrier's colour. She was him to her soft meat, velour to her colour. With a U at every turn in her upending shape, low rider she was Mona.


------------- it was always like that. Jill to her becomings was ride around the hurtle. Her circle a tom thumb thimble not always chance to parlay its aleatory hum