Wednesday, May 19, 2010


like any trickle (fickle) lover your sun avoids me.|Open your cave the air is breathy  ~ spurns the instant hour coffee ~ so Jill and hillock packing herself the relievers parries the trade of fox-trot  ~ rings and rings her neck the wide way brim her downy feathers to a goose prime down along with her. Jill? Mona a basket of furtive fruit in each paw. I never set clappers on her! you old bag. Shag and deterritorialize that hour honey you're figure's lent you every chosen shape  | Mona forfends the thought Mona gorilla

and wags her bum at every lasting stranger than truth belief every tussle every tulle wagon

Mona moves her diurnal drindle skirt off   ~ come back to my logic O logos O patois! O patate frit!

Jill now knows it best to couple last  ~