Tuesday, October 20, 2009


JIll's minutiae is blue her period piece after the rose, And glad of that her prelude is biographical to each stemming leaf. Leaf to leaf her heart's a present pensum of __________________________ Non, c'est n'est pas ça chère ami.

In the minuet her skirt's slit reveals champion fields and netted stockings. THis way her huzzah is mated to any lover. You might call it a jamboree. Of sentences and odd gods, peter abelard's larded wax, and the nut from heaven, Heloise.

It's s slow dance, a heavy petting and panting. The rhythm of a song. Again.