Thursday, June 10, 2010

muster

Cursory of the finger ~ Italianate fountain played for dead ~ rippin' its hulk. Buried the buster. Fluster to the cradle to the wind. Fat to its repeating silver lens. Calibrated to every run ~



Curse of the fringe hanging bangs along the foreheard, forewarned by the poleax god hefted in a bard's idolatry ~ and bearing



eliresssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss


dlire

a v
owel cut OFF


_____________its not the reactive delirium nor the locked up a room even when alone

one it's the other the alcoholic flapper her jewels.

Melancholic ~ the body is an ass ~ .

Get rid of it ~


_______________


If she'd whatsoever persist away we'd come to the thing that ~


__________ tether the green ~
_________________