Thursday, December 17, 2009

hounded




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....