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 ....