Thursday, December 31, 2009


Shes come to the bed . She s stayed there. Her and here was. It to her funsome . Not

so the quick seed of drama queen but the busting schizo lover wasthe Outside best. Her better become ... Fuck off to outside voices fuck off to their deaf mute muster....

________________At the coast yes. She's nurtured the true plumb line telling . Its lien and breathless fortune |Open the door and let me .lover

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

open your wheel

Okay husting s... along your boardwalk its the figures not symbols which count... O countess your .. fair cutting wounds make better sense now that you are alone. What seperation forces your sigh? Is it the cunning of morals backs your paste? and disgust fans its teeth.. disgust yes shame disgust . .. you dig around with whores.. street worker... shes the blameless duchess of backed up beds..a ass giving out drops by the window and this bacchanalia's come to its end... blanket quill and bare feet|

Soon you'll undo the mastubating tale of Franny. Come to her southern .

No, come to her mouth.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

sheer bulk has

She kicks in doors with that bloody foot. Come along y ou merry bastards destroy and deploy your guns of happiness your leg bandy bastards crime to yer shame. The fuck man with no arms, the crippled stink bastard.

Causing a stink she's in the brig. What a dumbass. Shoving off epistemes in the can. What a crapload is his fuzzy leak. Aggregate my arse.. that was a double fuck trouble man at the demo... Fannny's felix is gone again. And Jack's on the run... lam on the highway down the cursive cursed page ______________the idiots prevail.

Monday, December 28, 2009

pins have fingers

Fingers to suit them well. Hirelings hourly paid|Bitch wheat to fragment. Or to compose compose he compose and wrap wrap wrap. This way herds know better . The fist of rank weed and the cloud of cunning. Not quite a neurotic tic. Or the reductionist downtime. And the baking frost. and the canny heat. or the element of . Yea well if you know what she know you know better so perish the idea never utter its thought banish its conception !

This way rifts are healed by time's rugged. Yes, next what? Shoes you capricious goat.

Sunday, December 27, 2009


Its a gale you ... don't you ... ? no then... no echoes over the topsail.. its the gaffer.. no no.. O the leeward.. the pronto yowl! portside you there seaman... hunkered down the ball... the big thing there.. that monster.. yes a omygod black thing wet.. no cant say wont .. say . . it's o ... thin... g and then she say hurry hurry seaman ! have it down ... the breakers... O ! hail not the sail.. O christ ... with me... She's bailing ... O my swearing fog! ... she'shalf there... and ... it's tentacle...s ... noah's whale... what is that? she's Mona in her glimpse ... O frighteners and ... moonwalker..s where did it come knot on knot on sheet after league of it...

Push over you slave.. out of my eyesight... we'vebattles to fight.. kitchens to complete.. get out of her way sockets.. air to her signalling alarms... frostbite toher reckoning ... it's that trysail's ripped.. you're done for .... down .. she's going going .. goin ..g going gong gong gong gong gong

Saturday, December 26, 2009

loose to there

Loose to here's the pave to goldher harrowing fell timber in its great gossamer storm. Once in the off season her hair flew as the wished for summer . Bees and dune and fundamental cloth bore her churn. She was mother to the stormy and apple to her lovers. She was many in her taking to come around the forest. Her swamp baby ass hugged them all in to her weedy place. Come to me then I am mother to its witch.

Jill has no one like this so her cock's gun is sex to her fuck.
Her fucklove is listing her caboose. Off with her plainclothes back. Her back a narrown spoon kissedthe last reminder.

Friday, December 25, 2009

put on

Jill's however is whomsoever. And whomsoever the bell tolling for her rings the night wishes hawk of love. A picnic in the bed's roomy savannah. O the room in there's big as a hill and topped over with love's messings. O the lightening ! O the quiet ! the air and sea! and they button down their coats heading into port

Splashing and water coveting the shore. It's shore to sure and blasted the land lubbers, the double crossing cheap bums on the dock, and the randy hairy liars. Swindler and two timing pinchers. Crashing the word 's built an unbuilt derry .

Thursday, December 24, 2009

come along the

Watch time she's waited enough. the guard wont come. her mouth's filledwith it you know that book tasted like shit waxed with Polish onions. she's not a becoming shes a blockhead pickled with dust. An elevator worker in her spare time she's got minions coming for her. A jerk off artist to her left and to her right the god of fortune and fastimes. she's rented the cursed trail of credit. Not the moxy of the Grundrisse but the death of OGods and their patterns. Patens to the fusty rock road a cut ciborium to the riant goddess of her lap. This way two love in place of one.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009


This way no one. Before everyone. Fingered by its huffed out ruin. Not everyone. But after. But before. Not for. But give to its caster.Yank the high quadrant. A vacant hour of disaffection. Mona's chamber and the whole gang. A roof top healer a circus of lamb and roasted ... what a woman's breast stuck to her mouth up the banquet a large group fluttering...a sinking feeling ...over there a sea yelp a tingling sensation of Jill's breath.. coming roud the table she's got .. you by the collar... your cock stands heel.. freight to her frigging motion.... thisis prayerto its goddess loom....

Tuesday, December 22, 2009


A witch is burning . Her buns . Outside the thatch curses the air its plenty of buckteeth rattle the bones of rotting feuding knights. A kitchen spoon to wand her curse. Curtsy? this hag 's not borne courtesy to her womb yet. She's sworn her teeth to cursing the knight's grand illusion .

Courtesan to her thing Mona copulates the maid their foursome is death's door to its ox . A fuckweed to the terror of its learning.

Some half assed knight busts a gut husbandry a lost art to its furrow. Harrowing to its placement.

Jill's sack's filled with gewgaws bric-a-brac and sun lotion.

It's the late nine-teen hundreds . No one remembers the word for it... a cow paste?
what is it for god's sake!

Fell me now with your word. Fell me now with your asshands.

Monday, December 21, 2009

no one

No one hears it. Icon to its something. And she's mouth to mouth harmonica to . O and then her. Body. Worn if its . Yes. Okay. Pair ? come along mouth head your bog
main is broken. Dig out that pipe drain. ...

Thinking she loves someone she loves no one

You'll push this further and further

Sunday, December 20, 2009


it's something she heartd about. Some busted thing. cracked her ankle and ass. her potted neck. the wicked witch of thick shitstickings. Crusted by the mace word.

Saturday, December 19, 2009


19 _adapted___________her hate __ flying flags across the cannon shaft. The mast's down and the highland is gone. What does she do but bury the sun. Come along, what's the angel dumping down there? __ is that her widow weave on the dock? ____ She's wearing red and gold brocade and the hamper-------------------------- She's an expatriate the day she was beginning. It's music to her ears.

Is the ascending growl careening? does it help to furrow similes as she's beckoned to sheep? this way the world's an existential fold, marrying and furthering her coal hunkered future.

Back to Rheims we stood by the rain holding the night's fist, its cuff links standing alone


Friday, December 18, 2009


The knight's pledge his service goes as follows: but never as but only ever between it's the discipline of the finer gauze its ...a frogtrodden turf... the grass's sparse... mules tracking the area cant make out ... their direction..

in the center erections and golden vulvae
round the circle twisting ....

Mona cambers her follies

arriving at the strange land at last...

Thursday, December 17, 2009


Across the mesa ... clicking ... hooving.. the ping of rife shots... is ... no it's not ping... nor perne in the air the awkward beat of hate... cantering the lulling pulling feet... its not what you call the king's evil not in the land we're wandering.. roving ... as it ... yes .. halt then break back go four feet to the tearing sport over the plain backwheeling to the front... O say it's the wicked stove of night... transformed claw footed bearing coal...and other... ointments...? sheet of dull wind pile up.. the ... you have a knack for these things...
the din's a sweet pounding in your groin upping your spine to gratified heigh.... t .. thingslike that...

never mind the quiet rain ... the spooky do and don't we'd walk along the line... trimming our coast... sauntering its bud...

rambling its fairy ridden ... stalks....

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

rusty minor

If the incalcuable odds are against you what then is it beauty's turn to hold its horses? Open your doors O men the rain flutters its beats charging full speed ahead.

Over there the Empire not inside outside ... it's never ending claims reaching spreading pulling in talons ripping roping anything in sight gold barrier to gloom its hold on man's
spirit. Hold you horses you jets of war and hate and your infinite death drive... your splatter sungun .... ending life and ... the hand that cannot speak... won't mourn its primal loss...

Jill recalls the day of spring a thousand years... hence heading she's gone for river and splash calling up the brook and leaves....

its laughter.....

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

fall out raving ...


Your motorola 's busy. As the calvacade of its witch's broom. THe mouth wit cries your name. This way she's Sunday. Come along her hair strives for its foreign cry. No way! She wanting. wants to get off the medication_________prayer not medication__________Levitate! now air of fine shun! BUrst your melody ! bash the hell out of the sky! cover your forts! and castles! bring the pregnant forest down! No more bores....

Pushes off she does ferrying her way meeting what's her name? Substance and luggage powered by the ages of thought's furtive gamble.


She'd call call and call
her hand mouthed the receiver
wanting its
her sex


Rest Pause: Memoir of a lover .


Monday, December 14, 2009

say idiom

idiom's chain is for the cheats. the hook and fish down the Seine. its where the tawdry ones sit, primping their proper papers prayin to get into the tour eiffeel. what a farce! an arabesque of frilly and wilful kneechoppers. goes beggin' the question.

and this was the age of reason. the detail of love, deism and infinite fortunes of love.hanging on her every word ...shagging the lakes pelting the wings.. the marooned boat, and the straw hair her twisted pubic .. boarding the boat of the body as it's made and unmade and the gangsters and bitches are sent home the cold ones that cant and wont speak neurotic to the pious pretend degre

This Mona and her swigging ...

Sunday, December 13, 2009


_13 fuzz (y)

fuzz aggregates humble the palm and return the blossom . off trees and other singular . o yer sage brush's no good here matey. yer stuck at the cusp of the rearward admiral's navy. our boat's busting butt and dragging seaweed ranking the night hawk over the peninsualar coast she saunters her sexware down to her pants her ass wear glowed to the dark a brass breast on each side of her chest/breasting to mating the throng of male desire his long cock's belong tooted to the whole boat of her bucket

_____________________Franny ponders the myth of gold and bronze allied by night.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

read glance

From a reeding glance romance tothe star/t an dthe tattling consonant.Spires paraded past the .

Mona cant see with her stop glaasses. Shes's looking for a job hooker with a past career, others have it up the ass. She dididididid. that one, blonde from Europe./her blonde anality was how Mona ordered it up. Mother with an ass, and nowwhere to go. Come along sister geology is this how you see things: a shadow at the lawn,a permanent treasure to mark the incoming snow. Or the landing with the togas on it and and the mantle clad lover masturbating furiously as her night'll let here. a writer's life is a whore. a hove, a novel baiting her prayer. COme again! you off to the gulag!

Friday, December 11, 2009


Mona grief-ridden struck with a certain doom fore to its merit cuffs the manning sheets and the iron weed bedded to her property.

Jill pausing at the finest time to feel out the tracery and the whole myth. Combining its weather makes the ciborium a place Lent is collected. Not the single trust of many ... but a phrase's machinic privacy its producing engines.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

fall in

Fall in you heavy truckers

Expatiate expatriate run the winter close of the city of friggers, the difference engine of pining yearning the malaise hour of the wind cadence caught at the kerb's deepening coign

---tip~t ~ip toolip
herbody blossom cry to me mama

_________________________> to be continued: Mona letter to stamp around the yuletide fever.

This the city streets near the Sorbonne and her calvary afterawkward.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

for the bird

For you know this is the case true _ appearance reality its derives the sweet lips widened as the mouth across the ace

You shush these sweet things come round your house falteringly and she comes around the falling of her skirt her devour of O O O yes oriental what can I do capitalist lackey lover?

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||Jill holds her capitulation highly. As any mother might. she's caught to wolfing her sandwich down between beers and the seminar at Vincennes.

________________________Don't borrow your worry!

__________________________edict edifictation


Tuesday, December 08, 2009


One was two leveled between the heterosexual chain and homosexual .. the face spinning this and that and her mouth kissed the other grabbing its temerity with all of her might....

clocking was the easy way out cloaca to cloaking some odd and uneasy morphematic semblance? its a pitched dark thing brown as the egg. what as

__ the asshole've ruined G.
No way.
Yes way
Non, come to my kitchen. Take off your kick ass shoes peel off yer ass, come to my kitchen of ... genitals and peep... something close to the endless infinite debt of piss....

Fuck those flowers! they're made of mud! of shit and lime! the gush goo of sentiment of the hoariest gaudy sort the shite of capitalism!mud fucks and rugrots ...

I dont know what she's all about ...

sort of asshole divinity school

where the whores take ph.d's in mechanics and round table discussion..s

all things are unequal and a fair whore comes to your table door... bearing shit and plates of grape fucked around the plinths an European calenders of death

_________________ Jill comes from the lecture: greek tragedy and families
blood blood and more blood
________________________S' blood _____________________________________

Monday, December 07, 2009

string of pearls


_____An asshole was walking. Walking. A woman her lips counting
Does it don bootstraps to gild the lilly perverse to its sending love? and love's the pad willed the thing to death, the laughter under her tears, clandestine desire giggles

This Mona saw the secreted joy. Love was a sister in trouble like the weird analogos and the anagogic past and the cousin bearing her something and other and th e rue body without organs and the nationalist pigs

Sunday, December 06, 2009

depart hence

Depart hence you heavy cogitation. Knight of the spurred knee. Rambler of the rhetorical high weed

|a face giggles hidalgo to its high bender . this way none see. it the ridge and curve of its shutdonw she's past the gate engage to fertile summers and lifting the plate she saunters in and off the wheel its samsara to her shedding peel ~. Not any snake will do.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

cogitation at the library

Open your brain these works are full. Cocksure to their rattling comes the twine and the rackety thing holds.... rigging bangin head tangle its the veriest cut of them which forces the duel and the knee high breakers come bashing ...

Wait Jill cries my circus self wont hear that thing again... Mona impatient wont wait jumping off the boat at drydock it's Marseille and she's hurried to see the willowy beginners of the parliament... they've kneeled before the one that's coming in her two and many multitude mulatto to her drive love pelf ~

mona deterritorialize

She winding unwinding it moves hovercraft to the boeing self. Not a seaplane but a flittering ring nearest the end . THe port and pier and the gully waves trample the closed forest and its rough rhythms not these slippery blues feet and the counting range of the accord and the hung for wish and the sleeping mister

No voice is worse than those the pretence of beauty

Friday, December 04, 2009


Hinge and cannon pastern to putty the body's gruel joint . Fetlocking as the hitch over ground and the filming gait as twitching doesn't do your promenaded to the end of plane. O the plane so white ! so unsaid its consistency a blue glue a white pair an unnameable want

You'd chase for nothing its spring like things or bouncing wire along the pedestal of doubt the sedate elm and trees of want.

line up

__________________________Jill'd have none see her. Her becomings invisible are precipitous to its daring and like any cutting boat, she's ranged outher own becomings. She worked and this way her wanting became ~.

Mona's ghost argument with Dereader is a haunted story of false pride! and hardheadness! it's a lie from finish to start off page 1 in blogolese!

Thursday, December 03, 2009


We' ll clear the wreckage and then stampede the working days roosted by the hours of nigth and the factory's vain clock missive to the restless second ticking the misnomer to love's berry its bedtwain love.

No one holds night as certainly as your hair.

its fair to see its ornament swing .

where he lived

Where he lived varied colours. The rain's a husky weed capital.. the knocking suburban jaws... the linked eyes and pedimented roofs aROund here the houses are crow-stepped gable and the waters downstream from the lake muddy the local brook, its creek and puddle a pontoon of dust and dirt_ sometimes its dirtier than a maze and the blocking woods- the forest especially the 18th c. variety cause lots of problems.|

Sheesh! that haunted the river gabled roof! and splendid our artifice far away from the others ~

Save your breath the haunted heels are coming. Knocking back their sieves and pretenses.


Wednesday, December 02, 2009

tonight everyone's holding out

Jill heaves her brain. Carrying the stick, its rough edge weft to her cane and cain is just the able of the othering half of its wicked wit, its lip hip shit.

Marching quarry to 'end of counterpane' encountering Venice first time. The piazza. In this way she's during the night its speedboating of lover crafting. Symbol to its sacred list.

Listing the canal's face wicked as the tender pearlgray of after. Is that a mist a mystical? Come again silence. The 'deep schizo repose'our friend Lenz in the mountain. After swarming the restless plinth ~ .

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

shipping out

Doff you coat and cloak you dumdum. of the seventy two . fluff an' flagger. Shipper me seal and porpoise. Over the black vaulted pipe of the water laughter of the hounded breaker its peeved up rent in the garment of its face. The sun balking. Across the 'sea.'

_____________________ Some call this strait 'the mouth of hell' as she whirled it off round round and rounder's belief, crafting her willnilly passage ~.

O Hottentot me hearties Ahoy yet breakers boom , on the sand .