Tuesday, March 30, 2010

refute to surrender

 Jill exaggerates her homecoming . Whistling in the dark. between her thighs I've cherished my head. Thus Jack and his do-do do you wanna wanna  wanna do love  and its beckon call.   I have always been your eighteenth century lover. Blue dangers don't affright me. I come around your furs a searching man misted by your love. held already by your buckles.


Her red shoes twinkle in the dark. And mounting hopes are spread away. Not tarnished by the glad becoming
of god . And her minions the black lady, really abrown pioneer polished beauty. Calls out her son.
Come ! Commanding him to leave God. The raven caws flutters near momentarily and backs off. THis is the way of thelove. And the ode night and Odin's parler-vous.


Listen live my darling and I will come for you. In darkness and blackness. Loved by your velvet lips. Let my courtship come onto thee let my cry come to you   ~O you backward quoter of the bible book! you think you're David wit h his harps and platoons? This double hind radio will always be your self best making. As love is Christmas and joy Easter.

Monday, March 29, 2010

charing deluge

Charnming deluge put in your period. A period to offer the speedwell spiel.. No the ring around the closing
poor and their wretched condition, hate their offspring in the charnel houses. Some say there was no gloss to this particular contusion.



This offal and the seed. Next to the barn won't bran flourish? Branwin knew this. Cold fish lover. Watering his hard -on and Jill might mace of her belong came over. BEcomed to her 'fresh' fish the pregant lady dying in that car accident. And that was 1972. We came back for a month from F rance. Our lives were moving elsewhere and the dry past remained. Dead its zones a healthy frieze of 




________________Mona Jill and Jack had no more of that, they split soon.
Enough




___________________







Sunday, March 28, 2010

Malarkey

Malarkey is what they fed the students bec ause no one really knew "the"
answere to the controversy who whom?

Object suBject Death Life bric-a-brac.



Malarkey it's love first dust up. And the channel posers and the personas waiting to take off their clothes strip their garments loosen those threads . Headed by the bacon dealers at the ten o'clock fair.


It came rough bullion to their tender.

____________We'd go to be comforting our schizoanalysis Loving to its nuptial the fruit shone . 

Saturday, March 27, 2010

The choice

The choice was narrated by easy corrrectives.A writer was not a speaking machine but an engine driving its raft. Boom! to its trustle Jill comes home tired, fed-up to death teaching. Her grateful grasp say its the path of any less than narrative and love's book. The hips and thighs.




Hale your good geese! and please your choice round the cognition of robbers. No pair of weeds, but a black burrow chuffed in the dust above ground..





Friday, March 26, 2010

routine pay

 In those days off to the place. what was it? Thread saith the one recalling figmenting of her fair. O thread and box along the ladder a t top and blonde Portuguese woman smiling at you. Mona calls at lunch do you want socialism in your pocket? No one hears the reply.


Was she blonde then? Well she smiled. And Franny waited to hope of their coming. The love ridge and the crowd of rows and the long ride on the bus back home. A shipper she was.




 Shipped to her contemporary love   ~

Thursday, March 25, 2010

pretend to conform

  Pretend to conform the better to coffee. O pretend to condescend and ending packed. Something and the church faucet. O render pretend to contend. and her love tails. her hair.                             And these old song of love.  
                          and the bitter bay


 No one says fuck as well as you do when we screw. yer a bad girl live on your bended arching ass.? O come again Mona. ring your bells and cause your feather! Weight to the blessed face! O lion kick it out fast! we need the light the light the light!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

JIll the translate

Jill the translate is the comeback of every surf that roughs the wedges. Working as translation Fat Chance brow-beating his feeds, wonders. No. Working as translation and  the   slums of London are the same as any other calibrated insanity. back to hispanic history and invasions of the island. Come along England get your backs up.What swan visitor pairs this treat?


Is this where you give does it bear the sun's folly. Mandrake to the insane hope of love and the hangman's rope ... the connection? none except her skating across the pond transversally ducked to her love.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Risking the air

  The sun is weak so risible its not funny. The air's a cheap chance on baking goods and heart that've mellowed.Old Bag hag your swollen geeeze dont bother me no more! Back you go to that middle class vaccuum


                  Yet she senses something else arise. A fine cape a calm space a rested meadow . As the wound reclines and everyone knows she's there.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Civil suits





J
ill's civil suit is blindness. Awkward as the itinerary of Homer. One must keep critics at a far distance either mentally or physically. whatever be necessary. them that dont do write Know nothing about its internal protections/and mechanisms. nor do ambitious bad writers deepen the oils. Shakespeare was not ambitious he was simply a god.

we have no gods now we try to be utopic . and its good ., democracy and deterritorialization is hard work.


Jill falls to her bed maturing the masturbating melody of her bursting clad vulva jean. Afuck wit on the trail of love.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

search and rescuse__rescue punk!




J
ill marries everyone she see. This and that those to wreath. Inside she goes in the ass out in the cunnilingus out.A true homecoming. Shes beaming the whistle and thief. O I you've worn your knees long enough to say tata and bye-bye. On the hilltop . Hyacinth and carmine blazing and her hair was worn long as the sun freighting boxes and cars. Say the river was blushing red . Or something touching on fair grounds and memories. No one has control over it. Only odd god. Fatchance cant recall her name, and Antioedipus wont' come. She's at home as its convenience, and she's dogged by measuring noon, hoverbathed to the ringing along sky. Ski populated slopes and philosophers .


_____________________In the end, a t the second before the first again, everyone but none . No, she showed, her canal and carnal bliss won out. Is that love in a teapot?

_________________________

Saturday, March 20, 2010

dingle

Dingle go the sheaves in their starting naves. The gull spirits the hour. The thighs of the water part...

and you wrastle the hugger muggers and pated gulls. Spirit to the waxing nave.

When you ass smooth moves hurting the eye . Guessing the range of man's suffering. O mong among and the rug gulped down its rounding baggage. It's the slang hurts and the maudlin


Mona won't complete her thesis. hER THesis was eyeball to eyeball. what did you stare at me, and the other woman longing . and there was room enough in bed for the three of us. Mona chills her glass. Lemonade to the squeezer and the farm and her resting waist. O come lover this day is yours and ours.


She's heard the .
And ferried her
wondering at the possiblity of love's triple decker fuss!
O wavery!



Friday, March 19, 2010

Berry

her ass is the sweep of hope. she's love berry and bushel. as she speaks I surround her. A whoosh hoosh . her boots and coat, and the question... how was your... did you have a .....

To continue and to be. Come to the love masking nothing.





If you put your cock in there they'd cry hope to its coming.




Hurry we have a lecture at 8 and the Doctor Challenger is hearing a defence! A public love to lecture the air of its becoming and the way her kerchief hankies her hair. This is lust's fox. Come to the cafe when you're done and we'll run and run. Leave the worry aside and ring your castle late. O my lover bug!


                      Jill resides between the hug and mate.


___________







Thursday, March 18, 2010

Her kind is neat

Her kind is the fair love. Behovely as peat in the mudcracked road round the village. Bearing the feet of love's  tag, categorized by care mudtracks. The old accent beefing it up rounding the air. Pleasant as cynic her kind memorial makes no one come home. She's rough to her herring bone.

It's her kind smile that makes me come||||||||||||||Shift that tense paly get that thing going. No one needs a group to make it work. One is already a group packed jammed and hamstrung besides those fantasy voices busting your ear drums.




And then the sun ran over the room of the afternoon . No one heard it coming except the pale russet of riders backed by the rooms to their closet.



Wednesday, March 17, 2010

word and hook

Word this she leans in her breath. Her clothes changed from the classroom style. Carole. Or Caroline. What became of her thighs. So ambered by the place, he's breath to his taking the halo of hour and the soothing something something of need.


A greek god , the old and not so deadening sort 'd do the trick. Trickster and ticks, penny loafs and the tribal chiefs moving up the altar. The pair of them grueling their meat grinning . Motored then to the seas. On wheels and saxophone tapes sassafras to the burling task. Grass to the knees.





Word and god have called her back. Her back is staring at the phallus of love. Along the climb to geology they've made their home. Groups are dangerous, So Jill pulling the sheets overhead goes back to sleep. Home to comb her full tresses along the alabaster blessing of the walls, and the temporary grief of love.





Tuesday, March 16, 2010

russet signet knee fire

 If Jill knows her name its because none know it. As she does every fairy wing. And  (each) charming post to the outcalenders of hope. And the marshing wood. Satan's place is the putter in the meadow            and the chap down the stairs. Close to the micromicrophone. Morphematic to the theme of wishing birds and ranking choirs. Some have held it near to the earphone and the long grama_hoop of One and Only.

                                               Franny's ass always needs wiping. She's tissued every kleenex in history. And forge the
     word                      Kotex! one is forbidden to say that!


Pronounce it at your contrivance Fool!


--------------------------Back to the logics of love's fender and the mirror on the wall of guessing gorgon and groined shares.

Pasted to the will of tenement lovers.





Monday, March 15, 2010

twiddle and riddle



None know this word. Or the word knows its pace its rhythm riding boundless to the infinite thought of its pressure. And the cambering ride of sudden caught over the stave of  night. And fits this rudder crossing the bizzare ladder of its crumbling. An old god dies easily its the new ones have a hardy time being borne, being born. O you stupid ones.



Mona ferries the river.                Charon the riverbanger cuts her sheep and shop up tight that way making hamburgers for the night.                                   its crystal hide has nothing to conceal. except the better of thought and felt.


                                                 Cunninng to the gods of bored India and its regnant women
 an airbrushed remnant of            desire, which is not never in 'exile.'  A stupid concent if there ever was one.


Sunday, March 14, 2010

fare an fine

 Fare n fine to love's riddle. Love needs one word babbling its torrent then swift to abide the punning brook and court. So said the lacecollared fancy one.
 


                  And she laced each dipping her heart's unrelenting pair. O the mountain and O the wind and the water. Clearing there bound by the breeze its cutting chopping breath.

Peacing down gradually its love.


No one knows this secret except you.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Has been each choice ...

Has been each choice decision. Concision to her cutting raw back to rhymes and the scantering of cool hope. Gliding along the mule's edge a  muezzin chants the hour.                Does a Jenny chant as she comes round the corner lip of her orgasm to the origami of. Jill knows this everthing and by the time she's reached the Red blanket she's borne all destines packaged for every wheell. Even if left outside she's alone as rain


                            In this regard the Quebecois rain is as sun.

Friday, March 12, 2010

is a train

 The hand hovers close to the cheek and the checkers box looks open. Close the door open the brief hush to its magnet pose majestic to its glass door and pour over the croup. She's left the place Saunters round as they say boy gaited and her hair . And this way she's born again to new sites and old.  


If there's repetition its only the fault of love. At L's restaurant the propeirtor an Asian lady of heady dispositions bears the weight of the world on her shoulders. That have sloped missing love's caress. And the restuaanr down west has a Mama waitress taking care of the customer's Oedipal tenor . __ Come to me baby Mama, I will suck dry your dada  ~ add Irish brogue blur ____ Dial the wrong number and you get righto Mama and her harbinger needs. Nereids and rough bleeding of the solar cortex. I have been everyone but you . Then I am the mist at the door crushing the smoke from the air.




So Mona Sow Mona finds a home everyplace she go.


______________

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Cuss

Cuss and curse! you old hag! stay away from my injuries.. over the motor and ovoid mountain  ... creeping vines river of... yes, cutback page saw goat tooth..   . Now Mona has knee buckles bracing her back... to the regressive state .. no... acanthus and player holds her 'up' she's down and out in Paris and Dublin too forgetting London the imperial on the way....



 She said to go on  ... Stop. Musty ending here Endymion... here. Rigging off limits ... of that gut and think of them men thousand after thousand.... the hot rivers  of. and  then she was close to premier becomings but lost between her Descartian eye and speech thus the dictaphone...a  kind of primeval unconscious recoding device.. her voice is intexted by the rivers of the south of France.. in the mercy seat they were not too kind...

and the tall whores goes away not remebring a kind word you said...

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Repos is the more

Restless is the more becoming to you .... Between the better tools of lettering and print. A hand crawling. And then berries and lettuce patches. ... at the burnt bore turned through the screw... it's Jill turn lifts the knot chafing tense her .. it''s there... yes, ... No no this way and consequent to that the theravada thought..

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

does she

 Tumble along Mona . No one hears it anylonger. Not really ever did the soothsayer and talkers. The half bands and balding weed. Nor the dust of balls and storm.

Blue breasted orphan in this unconscious couscou I've filtered all your red awnings ... preparing for the happy moment of the Revolt... in the castle the witching boards are hot to go and she's a pushover herself so they're flanked by guards and rented by mummies... as for oedipal doggy walkers...we're hunting down pit-bulls rottweilers... and other vengeance returned dog bastards... shovel and hammer in hand... Mona's skirt's highheaped with love's made stand.. custard and double kissing lover to love kiss sucklipped




 What about German shepherds daddy? Oedipus go to ... sleep....

Monday, March 08, 2010

Back to

Does she cease to covet? This pushover with the mace button. Near the Douglas hospital the shock therapy does not ever stop. Its' an emergency ward. Back in Paris she did her tour of duty in that dirty bin.


Does she desist after this fork in the rose stink to high heaven and immanence is a plenty meadow ..and the dancer comes clodhopping not knowing that every mistaken hour hurts...

Shes wished for fine wines but deteriorates before long.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

HUff and ...

If you had a tongue Lady Glass
we'd pass back and forth like
foolish feelings but yer screen's glass
is .. No says Jill this ass is too cute
for love's bitter bocky...

Mona: She used the word gently in a curse of a verse. A Cutapurse, not knowing the cruelty of poetry! a passing chain to hook yer brains outside to the inner thigh. Cunted by her rained in thoughts. Shes pretty and good in bed but no poet to her mustering thoughts...


Franny's not keen on braille .. she'd prefer a mouth sucking Jacky's cock.. her mouth a long whistle down desire's boom-boom ka-boom!
O master of coming and love's hellbent fuck.

Saturday, March 06, 2010

At last

THe furniture is coming home. At last. they've paid the rent. Jill feels the fear . of feminine andthe non plus ultra of love's duel. She wants to look O love a pay by pay night arrangement isall this .. can ford and ford the water's cold and down to the gooseberry principle...a mad symphony huzzes in the background... somehow...



and yer coming round at the last
buttering your rings and
toothing your comb
you busker! you sweet rose
patch

___________




Friday, March 05, 2010

Loom

Cut a caper darling . And so and :




This way the moon goes up. Mona goes down she's manic delire to her button _ single as the mild monkey troubling the water. Along the boulevard students bundled with books and essays fare and ramble their . This and that. No one hears Theravada. The moon gets huskier as do the finer half hour pauses. She holds her prescient narrative to its togetherness. You see it's like the sun's warped her vessel and crying for grace, she's come along the mountain abandoning effort effrontery and spy hovels .



Jill peers glass deepest into the fixed quarry there's coal down there, and over the cove she's backed off the endless infinite fright of beginning again and holding together her lapsus she's partitioned to boxed and beginning. No origins for her nor original sins to wake the walrus and wildebeest . Ragweed and frayed grass are foremost companions. On the boat no one knocks and everyone's quiet. As a mouse and more.

Thursday, March 04, 2010

rescue

Cued to her belogging She was a navy's bitch! Turnabout and turn again! you fink not the washed flogging or the dialect of chums, but the blonde uniquer and her telling odes. Along the river. Yes, and beside. And over here, by her window figure the finger of rap and the blessed beast of butlers. No one comes along the narrative in this style.She's a guest with two switches off.

_____________________Mona calls staying in the 14th. They meet . And yap for hours agains the river's leaves of grass. No electric stir pot for the broth but a belly filled with buttons and mutton . Fare for two kings! she says deconstricting the phrase. Mona's awesome phrase bending is her pert grace, and shews a necessary hope to changing . Optimum to her four feet.

Animal becoming and tune to nice feet.

_______________





Wednesday, March 03, 2010

buT I Franny

But Franny does not hold with fealty! awed by the feet of others she's rain with her tarpaulin hat askance. A real dance bunny with a bum knee. Newel s wistfully turn and twist in her absence but she's loved all things human. Come along my hummy one beauty's earned your kiss and that dark darling love is the summer sigh of love.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

And

She was a messenger of alcohol and tombs. But the recovery rate is higher than the platitudes of make work. She moved out to the far end of the mountain and left to her vices she started a working class machine . Designated a special hole in the wall but not a pink or black one! If lovers have fruit she has fly works to double her time on the highwire act of her becoming.



This way she's a herd of cattle and the bottom of soup becomings rustling out of molecules to water and the H2O ofher self as human shape. This the nerves of gods cannot bear and she choose her state instead of hustle. Histronics and electronics and then the nagging of the clock. Endurance in time is her courage. Much like a wrestler in place of a drunken stumble bum poacher. No pheasant plucking for this girl and her Robin Hood bandoleer.

Monday, March 01, 2010

forward and

And turn left. Come right . Go left. Turn right. Go North. Bend south, your clear cut herb. Not the Niphrates of top hats, but the butts of orient glue.













_______________After seconding the orders, Jill comes over. Over? yes, shes worn her stay at the paper palace. Shes nothing left but the glue boot of her digital blossoming.


_____________________