Sunday, January 31, 2010

hence penny

Hence penny forward The nickel dime shop. And the rear ward pushing hefting. A bull like .... Mona's fanned to her oxters, gold of that thigh and knee keen to her every deluxe pearl. Come to her mouth the froth breakers kick back at lean weaned waves shuttering their glisten on the twinkle of dalllying afternoon gulls. Dive swoop swap places and plane the river sky. Old coast and sharp metaled-rock bearings con us in the shore's glare tough glance fawned on and piled with adjectives and this place's home. Home to her spare rib the colliding day of Adam's frame. Hence Penny and her long lassitude layed out in that dump of a place and the grand lover held back his ... O so willing wiful attractive attack.... O my Jill O my jack of lover's trading and its raid down the gold mount of her venus ... this is love's dominion confederate to her loose morals

Ethics! shouts Challenger along the lecture hall voices burbling bodies wood muttering... recordings... snapping smoking the elements go go fogging in the letter made word....

No authors a juridique combine but a lover and her letters pealed by the finger of the bliss tongue... its bitting gnawing thing...

the word not understood...

Saturday, January 30, 2010

tussle toss

Tussle the toss of pranks

your heart is a soft butter. A tanka to sweeten that honey ear. Paired by words and silence healed by hemmers picking their thought. A canopy that marked ringing night. THat's the geogrpahy of souls, and her sense of humour's haweked by rought bright night. He'd moved your socks to the bed end of sighing. Rattle cage. This way your body'd roar like it's never done.

Yer chewing cheese Mona, not cheese whiz but cheese cheese the broken pedlar. Something like that. 1976 and we are coming back to Montreal, our son's in France with his grandparents grande parenting notre jeune. Oui on  rappelle ca. Alors. YEs, we arrive and its bookS EveRyWhere in the Soft of the AparTment we live.. IN. Mona lives live. Curtains drawn drownded by the air of the Bleak. She odes  her does not live the crofted life and lief of the downers. Some others drunk drink rather to bland their sorrow down. You buy  lost and found consoling yourself with the thought that life is life and it's taught better than read. We're missing exciting times and lectures. We go to 'coffee houses' as the things are called destined to be gentrified  fancy restaurants 2 decades later a little less. Some where around there. You meet a symboitic spy . Ass hole.

We tell his name to our friend reading Guattari and laing. We get married. We are safe we are landed immigrants in the landed payee of immigrance.

She becomes the best thighs in the Eastern end . No the west end of what is called the Plateau. Jill with Jack starts a company called Milles Plateaus. Down the street, Boyer street to be exact, theres a PROVIGO __ Sign in the Window_ fora  year: MIlles Plateaux. We fly back to Paris, that late spring never telling a soul

Something about the son and daughter and the Wall . Coming alon g and down. O totaliatiarian regimes of brutal  endings. Beginnings. Time for cinema and quick fixes. Run to the west end leave come back. Poetry readings with her in bed becoming.

Friday, January 29, 2010

furthest then

Fuck this . She. And its mozart, latticework covering her brain . The universal voice. Her way of asking me to make love.After the death. Raging fuming. Asking not asking. The wind . And its blue. It blue the wind blue.mystic moonlight and fanlight. Not the name but the pose of its statuesque strength

shes as busstop naked to her dark skin .l

Loin to her pearl misted by the ray of sun

Ship steaming over ... the waves beat back.. in the bin.

She's in bed Mona beside . Her. Besidesque . He's home writing the Jack tales. Inside the plateau its a breasted splash in the water of salvation. Take nothing literally. Love. the dog

that sees everything a grade B love affair. No distance no proxmiity only the contiguous He's wriitng they're cuddling kissing kittens Mona & Jill the becoming double Mary & Martha the voice talking in the wall

Thursday, January 28, 2010

close here by

her typographic slurs.

Dont cajole but meander your patrolling fingers around his backside. She pulling off her typo and glue. Pouring the paste in she reaches for the psalm of Jill. Jil's reading Jack and carrying the knave of Queens home. She did dildo the ass of her beloved. her coming in his. he came to her hand. Some to her. Hand to mouth she faircrossed the pillow of his belonging becoming.

There's no poultice for this weed my fine fellow signifieds. Take off your absence come to my phone.

They fucktalked all day. Then.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

over there then

Over there then. The hen and other things intaglio to your bent neck.This one has his harem this cock's toloodle to her bending knee her fray on the callow tips. Candles rush your hands . You spray the wind a hefted bastard on the bulling dawn. This sheep's mattered its pulling at the feet of aimles surgeons.

Not an understanding pair, yet a fetlocked beast cashing in its crops. Wilful to the last drop. Sudden beat to the benign woodland. Around the pasture of territory and headland a precious cargo is born.

To get into him you had to move into his bed, steady tiny clutters at a time, willing the awful desire of your love.
A fresco for cheating two.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

tumbling in

 In a little look alike love puddle.Shiver me timbers and hold that thimble. Yer a sweated thing by the bust of you and the wind at your heart. Paired the lake and brook, the creek river and nanny goat.

Don't be angry my love that you love. It's the world's passage to merit your breast.  In paris the trees grow metropolitan and the hurly-burly of love blusters. 

Franny is working nightly in her coliseum and you are making wheezes of the clock, furtively copying out your scholia and perturded ideas. This way rain flutters the weak heeling their gangle.

Come along lovely square be a  curse , a swear word huffing your careful herd. Worlding to your gasping bite.


Monday, January 25, 2010


 This is absurd. She say. Live in Berlin after 1977. What do you do there? wait for holiday of wall to fall cheapest tawdry shit box dump of decadent layabout in western 'free-world.' All the hangers on. The left over and refuse of revolt. Gone bad sour grapes gripes to keep them busy. Years later, its cheaper for Europeans to travel. Whats new? they started the wars, and now saddle the glober with the temporary fever of democracy for their right.

Mona frequent fucker non frequent flier. Game but and by the lobe of her heel she's a trump card getting on the cadet field. No wonder she's sworn in as a whoore.

"her bodyis a wire of desire . her voice in bed? how come

I’d love to see this one naked. hot sweaty and see how her arse looks as she heaps up fucks

looks like a great fuck"

this is the heard word inthe shop the kittycat house where she hung her threads at 23 . Then the lectures came and O that hippy idealism faded fast enough. Specially when you saw the police truncheons bashing in skulls in Berlin near. the Wall. O the wall. And the righteous communist and righteous good citizens all mourning of the Federal German Republic.

So her first homosexual love. Affair schizophrenia and the bottle the bible imbibled inbibled in her deterritorialized self-raving.

Sunday, January 24, 2010



-----------Jill is in the wings. She hears the roar of the loud.! Bang!

Listening to the witch's broom pass watching passing and repassing __ and the others flay___ weird days and strange selves. Not close to the pillowed god and the naked severals of women _____ herself.____She once heard a throng. A repeated melody. That way it never got from her. He was sutured and fucked out in its slang. A retreated form to obsession. Mona Jill kill herself laughing. Laughs. A fracas a comedy a farce.A ll things singular and prescient.I don' t like groups. I work best alone and alone to catch up later to your group. and our group, our lovehive.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

the rare fine cloud

That makes yes eight nacreous lights with fingers touching their sex. Squish to love's pretty boat. Its beaten railings along the polished brass of the sand.

Crowded word hum in Fr annys kissing me kissing beat. In other to her behind . She's rose to her seat. Of the Irish verbs and trusted sound of Parisian cussing over the cafe table. This way she replays her baby blue eyes. Not sexual but philosophical in the fingers twitching round their sex.

my delay replay__________________its tutoring its due to their many! she's holdingmy thigh!

Come along my deterritorializer . Love your fates!

__________________________ Mona kisses her goodbye no more to Mao and hers. Shes gone to kiss. Kiss her goodbye she up to her eyes in love. Glue.

Friday, January 22, 2010

up and

This was Mona' s furniture now her furtive glance. What can be more than that? She seeks out to finding language. And the spare pen. This way . Lovers seek.

Up and about the day's dawned. you have references allusion, terrible hooks, wretched penmanship. this summer's winter is fug and guffawed with sheep ship down &n the old bender clouds. Roughed up by the indoor spring of . Work work work as the pen tripping its needles pulls out . And her breast far from your mouth comes along merry and soft her . Body moves as no other. Can this be the mere thermometer of storm? Castle in the rummaging closer naked it shows hold this . Not a word. A thigh or lent broom. Nor a hip nor unutterable vocables.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

frottage and rummage

Rummage here Jill the world's gone. Gone . Non? no _ then open the hair raising the shelting open the pineapple air

if the jets don't come razing our town we're okay with our fans to study another week, yet another one another yet. . So Jill and her hopeful inspite of despaired populace.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

on her ... talkie

Jill calls on her walkie talkie get your ass over here it's safe refuge habor. There aint no earthquakes here nor any bullies and murderous harridans fascists of the red white and blue nor the cordon blue nor the Ism sicko-invaders from the territories of selfshitting and double knock down repessings nor the cowards of cant do and wont do thems that gots wont share it wont spare or give it theybe pigs bay of harbor pigs . they never there when you in danger they never was nor canna will be.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Funk not funky

Jill frigs the ship knowing beauty's ugly. Some say the world's a cheap cheat a double crosser a dirty liar and fucked out fate and if she was in the earthquake her ass'd 'n boots'd been quivering shitting her hooters and her crumbling scared diaarohea crapping the pants out of the death dumb's song Jolly Roger Grim Reaper picking the bones of the young and old the sexy and haggard the repulsive and pretty, the old harridan death's filthy straw come to keep her company

Monday, January 18, 2010

you name decreation

Dehiscence its obvious part. The man's mask face fickle sick. She wears the dumbshow one with him. Brutal bastard. He bats her. around the kitchen sink(ing)__ (shes a slut with the marrying type). that's how stare comes. Mona running then out the window over the chimney topped roof. The tenth arrondissement __ Inside the pipe down to the alley_enfranchised by lover's fool, cool to temper madness __ Cobble stone stew of fear and fleer. Fell to the sidewalk. Rushed out the borrow'd knife. Ran to the waiting bus. Off to the lecture. She'd made it once too again. The man's terrifying beautiful rasp voice pulling up the long of idea and its hasped melody of rasp in the room. Along the wall. She's freed as a Texaco. Not the cattle of southern France. They aint none you nut. Schizophrenic perpendicular to growing rectangular self thing. Ovoid to the blues.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

mate to call pass a word

In the bold summer heavy heart . Non, it's ultraplus lavender. Rainbows and part fairwheel. What's it called she shouting over the hectic wave rolling in along the shoreline. It's that boat out there lateen sailed... schooner cutted, waves sloshed back pulling overhead the tide, ripping the shore splosh spolsh ... come along then her skirt swaying the back of her leg muscle gleaming strengh of ties and woven flesh the bones.. and she's over the big ball bouncing by the lump and the bump and the dune up there heat haze... its cloudy sort of and the air's filled with the finery of its scent can air possess scent then ? ... her legs walking by gleam of It's not gleam is glow of shape of calve of kneecap back of ankle slip around the foot the shin the you cant says Jill Mona crying the name if the alphabet says . So then what? when then it whirled in the sand... the dust braying up the heat... can sand bray then? sand prays then to whom a shell rings its oyster along the 'placid' sea... the butter on the rolls and that? come again Sir that's not the way to point... she's walking by over-eye paying out the tickets the desire-machine...

Are you sure it's a skirt? it's a white one the material's somewhat heavy heavy to the finger but light to the touch... if that's possible... light browsed to the touch of its stirring the tingle nerves at end of fingertips whorls of its print across waves and stomach heels its pretty tom-tom to love... and the breakers yield roaring surf the black combing pushing back forth and back and sideways along the cunning line of their ledge...

Jill's sitting on the cusp of surface ...bending below gaze she does at the depths their distant future... shes there then she is
at her books she's at her book . .. then she is its concurrent aftertaste and the narrow billing of its gape .. not like that as when a man reaches poor and coming alive forgetting his reason he summons up his reulctance to pay... the treat stands still? come by then as if he'd heard the only soft warning of existence pondering its counter this way that way and over the top round the bastion and down to the summary top and how does that return?

She's worn the wool over his eyes and''ll marry no son of heaven

it suggests at least it appears so to us she's a wearing a greek deity donning no modest proposal that does not err her eyes... the gray eyed thinker... Mona's companion at arms, her comarde through the dear ending and near ending ...pinwheeling the lover's six arms round and round ... round ..
r o u n ... d ...a ..f.. r ... o ....

Saturday, January 16, 2010

over the winch

Flipped up yelp rumbling along... fresco and chalkboard the gunning style of quitting..the rifted wheat ...

over the r e ...s he's pointing finger in the high dragging sky... dragooned to her belly button ... puffed on the queer land... piece...

it's daring multiplying your sockets this way and in that manner tatooed arms and braced feet... the good ones the goated footsolidier of the Lord ... she'd spent the daymidnight at a woman's becoming helter-skelter that way no knew of the rampage her retarded limbs and locked hate the trap and pullulating the psychiatriste fiddlling with stringes... do you hear .. yes..t he ones within ..

and the others?

Fuck you was the reply she put on aboner clacked her nails
inside a binder
twinned the foolscap to her feet, and left papers a trail of messyhogwash

histiography to delay the ? the something other and other a prose thing
marked out with hours of errors and mistaken identities not remembering who she was ... and La Borde clinic was far off.. escaping with Janine Macintosh desiring machine at . o'c clock and then some others... that way they became coming and seeing...

-----------------Mona's inside a paperbaggage crate waiting her hairpin dogding all the billets and the bullets bouncing o ff the keen shell of her helmet

Not a head mind you, she'd left her head behind longtime ago past in another place down by the south outside of the other college gates
when the doctors of ontology bought their lunch slugging back water to cut the mustard and rivet the blues...

Fanny comes back definition to bait the ... crew.. shanghaied bandy legged! toot the whoot! ship the damn thing get it out of her.. you bucksome thing you finky thing.. we've had enough of that word...

its historiography....

Franny come home to Fanny .. her thing socking there.. veil to her sheening ... yes ye a s .. yes sir no sir yes sir no sir ...rrr ....

Friday, January 15, 2010


ortune's giveaway five

exhasuted breath away | give| exhausted breath give away |give | breath | give | notorious night to its lovers | the murderers | killing the all the killing the the killing all the earth

JIll's Atlas lifts her shoulder to her shoulder to to the lifts her shoulder to lifting her shoulder to Jill's Atlas lifting her shoulder stretching her muscles to the sky

Thursday, January 14, 2010

there are

There are and are knot

Of these wound and cut, these dead soldiers you know nothing . these are harbingers of hate, and the wax doll sealing its fate, the concordance of death weal

So Jill in the markdown of fate, the pricey ware of envy's slothful god.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

To this way and

To this way and others. She's had her full. Farrago to missive weight to these throngs of other ... becomings step to shore above bay its harbour jimmied to its resting breast. Breath to her paause. Love to her pull you up.

Singers hear this gall of bay to its choosing site remembering the away waves and its awesome tear.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010


Coo and cocoon and ooh the curve the movement it's what make the round ball. of her . globe and mouth around

and we must rid ourselve of the fascist I and the Eye which is I which Is Not you And YOu
________________ End Plateau fascist: start then with flowcup/luff flood

Jill frying pan in hand moulting mouth fractured opened after the news. deluged of death. cries in restaurant.

and your soul body begins where your fractured lame body leave soff. Soft to the portal of your Soft tothe portal of your proctor. In these doctor and shed woods. Love is a wool .

Love's a veiled lady rushing by. It is not 1956______________ In 1979 _ She drank a lottoomuch surrending its bottle to the whiskey god gypsy.
___________> Non one spoke English. Paris 1979-turning to 80. The winter years of that decade presentimented the winter century___ the longish draggish winter of the disassociated ones. And the bodies ruin and you gourd found empire waste and pillage and her breast and pomegranate

Monday, January 11, 2010

feu et


'Marc-Antoine Charpentier
Auprès du feu l'on fait l'amour...
Gérard Lesne, haute-contre
Il Seminario musicale
Gérard Lesne, direction
réf : ZIG ZAG Territoires ZZT07302 '

Auprès du feu C'est une seminar à Vincennes tres tot dans le Mardi à Vincennes très tôt le matin le mardi Le mardi
____________ If Jill's hair stands ending its because ... of what the solitude of balonely is

better than the unebbearable of malarkey

__ Not the imperceptible moment but the con she pulled on the good _. Tracking her down |ending its intriguing figure 'galllta

So Jill tarries her sex libidinous witch

Sunday, January 10, 2010

none times ten

Bellwhether to your erotic. Clanging ringing she's hip to thigh . Cuppin' cutting the ripping down avenue of its bellbottom feet. her ass and thighs and sigh hipsto its ringing kissfuck. Suckle along these lines Jill your marked back reaches the window she likes being behind behind the behind the hidden the haunch of her lady luck. this way love's a big boon a big fat moon not the american way of theft

In the one love she double her chances found the many . The arms were many of her wondering his ~

Saturday, January 09, 2010

huff and

MOna's stink cuts through the storm clouds. Sortie to her whorish way. Shes down on a punk down on her bunker. Etymologically undressed shes clad in buxom weed and brass tack muscle.

Sheesh! the bare wind sunders its backyard pleasures. A true backyard! a balcony! a


Now that leg has pants on it the design dasein is a god's Heraclitus. Hip mouth to turn forts and ruin weathers. A process along these lines is approximate and has nothing to do with exchanging gifts, be they supreme symbolic boring and otherwise. Get a break go back back to the social spine.

Friday, January 08, 2010


Where is he itself
Where's she itself

The hooker's tacking the horizon... she's wishing her dream in the bubble tipped toes of downy wax....

We'll travel back tacking sown wood and inthe dark phallus bearing I took my sweet thing to her

You did then did you? andshe was woven to its particle sand tongue to tip mouth .


Thursday, January 07, 2010

over there

Organic parting . Weaving the closed |maid and woman become.
Chip .Chip. Move it

husk it sheave it fork it plane it buy it. Come along you merry buggers! ... curve the calliope... the horn moon betters its neighbors ...

Outside is in . She's crowned pronoun to her bedding. The first captive lover is spent.

______________She's gone .

__________________________Others come. Otters to her pendent noose.

And after all that the arden sense of lush and the perpendicular dust. As for the Americans and their puritan militant voices we don't care what they think. It's Logic

of sense as Franny wheels in her cradle and sign taker. O come along. In the hallway dusty tomes of a sodden kind line the wall.

Okay later your lovely.

Hear that thing panting in the flood.


Wednesday, January 06, 2010


If that's how it works well. Okay. reach the thing for its past.



=========================Jill' schizophrenic daughter's Franny. And her fanny is fancy. Neath clothes that tell no taiL/ Or yer sure of that are thee? This nounthing listens . It must ! like any con artist in the ruth. No the rue. No the rueful comeuppance. Does an idiot do?

_____________________________ it's a thought She mutters. The other side come over here queer to her we wont say what fantastic coloued aria. the police are coming! get out quick my daughter !`

Tuesday, January 05, 2010


Does she live in the corner? Aye that she does in the southern careen of her fortune lad to her corn and seed. Her waning ass pearl to her storm .Shifted to her grouse her lay me down panty thong spread to your leg . Like a sock without wool and rain without cloud she's cloden to your hoof.

And unencumbered by any yuletide thing she's song to your tinsel thief.O brief brogue of mastery her breast's mouth full of her self your child your son. A swearing in of love's haughty game.

Jill clambers the roof, and aloof she's wiggling her ass . to the . Herd bayou bundle _______________________

Monday, January 04, 2010

her fair wind

Fair who said fair was its pinnacle? and that dress anyhow and the ass shipping off the curb and the cunning boot and the laced down jacket vest. her moth like buttons glinting on her... was that the wind cupping its merit baking the fake plaster saint of practice?a processual garden of apes.

This is six o'clock a bent haecceity of gridiron grief and chieftains winging it. The mating bird shifting key.

Sunday, January 03, 2010

the truth hurts


It does does it Jack? Is jack your house built of sandy ? it does not. Mister MFou worries the big boat bucking its straw hat . Its wind tiller. And the hoarse seul sister bats his thought off kilter.

You wont cover things that way. Coveting the envy of its irish poor glance. For to have with y ou your own stove and putty clay mastering the maker of its potent sigh

Jill considers justifictations and listless harmonies not a mentor too soon.
Saucy boy ~.

Saturday, January 02, 2010

chronicle of these

The god's hand bending and the ruthless swell of the river.. . the wellspring of its hover and the banks come up high on its down its crinkling adding noise its tenderness not the rough wave of a bastion day but a smooth one of Jill's shadow.. her movements slow ... as milk and the kiss over the sweater and the long breasts .. and the waist whiter than powder and the circle ...and up ahead the rink ... and the tale come round at its best first and the sun's rim not abandoned by its birth the coarse smudge of the ridge... the goat's hoof ..her ideas ... burnished with the case of the air the hand catching upward and the waist whiter than snow... the silver pea .. the clinging air... soft as the bramble ... Jill's home the curtained winter...drawing in the hallway light.. over the circle .. tympanum to the dance...

Jill's most south as west its north to her easterly... winding the

Friday, January 01, 2010

chinese of these

The suffering of those eyes| Gracious lent to painful lust. Libdido's .... direction...

In the now she's wefted its wheeze. Hurried to its benison the grace grace to her means and learning to its cape a southern repose over the Oedipal strain.. get over that hill .. Mexico my gods are coming.. the choice is gods and ... no t a

brilliant wink of sleep or the Morpheus being.. push off that beam that grimping deity ... keeping out her betweens to becomings its lover.. this chronicle's hoary repeats its tent...