Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Mona Marooned

shes hell on wheels Mona Marooned clinking flatware/stick-ball kick the can her mouth plasterd summer lake by loon
Mona monkies the piece, a texture of fragment hill her winning stir her maker's game, denial's dummy and the sharedown dummies. Gored by tusk wheeled by state, its the imp down pleasure of the hour.


If Mona was herself, she'd someone else, becomed someone else. the sentence that makes her, putters
across over the page that fabricates a writing. Something like the gerund that higgledy-piggedly rattles its thumb. What! sheepers,she claims, I am the disjuction of traps, trapezoids, marathons, miraculating weaves, sampled tigers, bright laned in watch lists, not something to fib a horizontal
line of flight. Her mouth filled with line of flight, the Fffff sound open out rags her ne'er do well in the bum down days of nomad strobe light lovers of cartoon filled day."

So Jill beauty was shown. She was show.n. She was

shown the door ~ .

She was shoggle and shimmy
an
untrue knight-errant
erring her pave
plucking
rue and true
~ So kissed it went her kip.
Kiss it GoodbyE~