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.