Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Veiling Mona

yOU'D think she was shipping out when she's only (really) just arrived composing recompensing her loverthrong.

 Mona  veils (wore) her feet   ~ OF course the government was nuts ~ she dandled between the being of something and nothingness and the boring  right of death the rights of death. the dead beat knoll of nights on the catatonic Galt she bypassing the heft and woof by the slumber. And the ring the well-knit The capricious candor of a lover without. A body hammering, a shitty metaphor, between her tents of sex and libidinous rumours around her aging reach. Not a quest but led to the absence desert and the remaining alones. 
  Along this flood her body without organs was not a place to stay.A contour and a shady Rembrandt charcoaled along the boat, and the dyke rising the swell of the beast.

This (old) body's born in summer . Arrives in September as. the fall light comes down sweeping and pulsing over and across the lanes and backs of balconies, over the rooftops and sheds. And the lonesome. and hurting body cries. its worn day carried back to source. and Of Course this is love and its old typography. and the miracle. not the wonder of cold heart cash. but her on her crutches, and the goose the limp footed her . with her fanned breasts and holy ass.

If anyone of which way this, she was better. Cared along a path heard by many chose by some. and then a few. handy to a handful of its concupiscent haste.

No  one knows better than Mona about the  coahahvered  3       ~.


Sunday, October 16, 2011

It could rain

 Jill is zip and peel with her bookshelves rounding every shoulder. Something along the tine and the kine and ringaround the rose and amazing  .

O really.

Yes, and then some others. Tobacco and the ones coming over their river. Like a revel, a tent and camping on the street, the broken avenue   ~.

Love has no age or moon   orbit among the gulping stars, and the stratified lovers. Their glue holding the universe together.

It could worry the rain and fiddles the strong strings worrying their way to the vestments. And the vents, the haft of the boom. And the kelly rope. Not close to any  thing.
Aware of wondering about her nearest plateau she's moved earth and geese. Slipping the ruins. Wondering if all is nought.

The shivering prince and the bumpy hug the ragged hubcap, a voice droning complaining the 'miseres' of daily consumer life, a capitalist whiner.   These too have met their end, as the multitude moves on gorgon and grove grapes of joy ~ Humming. The little dragon taking . And the rowboat, hushed by the twine of the leaves ~.
                                 Hover near the end of her tipping face,a kiss to be found in the extremist weather    ~ clement or unclement   ~.

Friday, September 30, 2011


            Jill's votary was  a dog, a votive notation on the 'crumble' of time. She's crumbled and crumpet!trumpet!  What is that way she speaks leaving the cake to the nodders .  Someone holding. Hold hold hold . It rings that way Capital C. A crest tuning  the fair wind. Winding the wheat the tunnel wheat? We're not sure. The first time on the steps outside the factory at the laboratory of Vincennes migratory workers stage  harder facts to believe. Breasts come longer . Nugatory.  Along the . Along the Along the. A long the . A long the A long the the the . the. the. the    ~  THE

and and
and and it working and compose . Post. Past paste. A thing rung the worked  brass and metal and rough edges . Adze and axe the astral moment of     and she looks good Russian.

 and this way at the outer cusp it's real and the reel to reel thing repeating itself. Over the verdigris tub and                            combines of dumped out shoe like object _ call it a shoe horn, but nothing like a woman with hips moving like an old ringer washing machine~! o BOY that was something getting laid  __ laid? lait? laid as in ugly ___ ON the Bus ------

Franny consoles herself with many velvet workings. Humming to herself the long treatiste of belongings and her becoming the ever-ever wave of love .


Thursday, September 22, 2011

On end

                                                          Mona's moved into the kitchen and Jill's hanging on her head.     Lovers. Of dogsand other bodies. a Blue lamp,a kidding goat's skin.. something a jazz working up to its denouement     ~ . Palavers and crystals  coaching the ramy evening     ~.

Mona's hurried  four score and ten, the blue ship, the rocking moat. Jill's boot-heels
tender to the touch, an oedipal haloo and leading rhythm section. Cut that baby making your head stand on end, and wonder to the end. A dock? She means a wharf made of the pristine choice of her lips. 

She's gazing in wonder at him talking. About his school chum and other brigands a moonlit anecdote and the  balmy hesitation of early autumn. But if she gets ready to sail off to Europe none of it will matter unless there's a war. Sail! are you nuts! crackers!disjointed! No, it's the full moon of full moons hankering down the low autumn sky    ~ and the fields are practised . At what? at being . 

Being? lovers and other secret  lavender paramours.

i'll buffo and buffo your buffalo house down . On the marvelous practicum of your love. 
And if this way she sees me good, if not what then . it's the round the hill and the half-sweater. Beckoning by  billet and fragrant two young women in their thirties waiting to cross the street. And  the avenue glitters with hope, their hope lascivious with the wind. 

No 'lamnetala' this but cantilene to your over-wanting sensuality. 
Who's? Jill and Franny's, (the young lady V)  and the skirt. Mona's not 'into' flowers. Say,  daffodils, daisies, and chrysanthemums. She's  rendered them, had them, held them, cultivated them. But recall them? Not a  chance .   She's whiskered by cuts and crates and  no flower remains in her hiphead, this war-locked  remaindered brain. Without a creamy road a brushing pre-eminent to her path along ward what would she do? Not a thing at all actually. Virtually, she's got seven lives to give. so , So what the hell. She's the  twittering  ironist of annealment and scrolling a very true tuba tune. Her lute's the fickle passage  between room and  sun.

If this way she uncovers the pellet she'd find her way back to the reredo, the repetitious 
concoction. A pittance compared to what no one knows else  . If she's fishing she's headed to Cuba, to other masters  of the deterritorialized and the Silenus, the silence that encrusts her worshipping .

 Now if thighs mattered she's be on the first train home. On the steps of the Sorbonne, what did it matter _ it was summer , wild and heat heat heat  heat! what a monster! a lover of trucks and other unions besides big digging hips... Not a muster but a seal. If choose to,  she'd foster tum-ti-tum,  she'd ring a wish of hamstrings and  harmonies paid by the hour, but no such things work in her favor.  Living on the bum is best made this 
way, begetting not foraging the link between sun and eye. If this shapely thing's her nave then she's best behooved in the tropics of yawning . 


Friday, September 16, 2011

Jill who's not been ....

Jack, who hasnt been around in a while and, who was the
editor of 'L'Antioedipe' vaguely recalled a photo in a hotel. Near
a lake where the sun beat down and crickers gave no funding and
no relief when the river ran hailed a well hail lady to her panties down around her ankles~ she
's rusted and rued in her deceit a. failed translator! a jealous pumpkin! afraif of her owned paranoiac sincere desires
to be a delirious .

something . and Jill tripping over hand. and ripped her paper, and rubbed the pleat. Pleased by overcoming and loving. and this way the kisses was tripled in their quadruple becoming.
More anon good book and bestest grammar of my bawdy love. She has wended her way to September serpentine and rivers rush by the side.

and what is this resounding variation over the tune  of love's body and memory.

Tuesday, September 06, 2011

Hot Bacon! Trims!

Hot as gammon and better Hot as Russian rushing hot loving cross the music of the sphere. And the busttop and bust stop her long nosemouth. Double up to breastloving its careworn purse. Is this love's gaudy? She says yes around t he . Wrinkling her nose and love knows no race. She's not sure. But better she's sure her pipe is nomamapapadeterioration though parents have their place. Apparent parent appearance is the love of the surface of becoming's . Brother and sister black babysister .yet if she wore her lovers. like. something else. which a maniac in a restaurant muttering. What hellhole her breasts . Dozened to belong to a past a fugitive future. How does it go ~ ?

Its along the bank of the Seine. She's rafting over . Victrola Victoria the lover of men and women . Sneak a peekpreview   ~  View is this love? Or care's mightyMatterhorn? Matter Horn! are you nuts she say. Say she composed her past presenting her lovers As. Boxes of illegitimate jealous lovers. That way she gets a hard on. Bu t the weary days do not cry for tears. But hardy buttoned lovers unbanking themselves.


Friday, August 26, 2011

Reason to know and grapes as such

__ Jill has every reason to believe she's alive and married with a son in Ireland. Has she been back? to the coast and the continent? No , Ireland's held her sway. She's not been back to see the professor . Nor the grand scholars of the school, nor the doctors of , nor the doctors. People always lawfully look better througha  window. She's a historical nut living with a screw for each passage of time, and a dime a dozen for her baked charms and chemistry. Her story? what a tale of trauma and glancing back to back she's a buttock to her true cold.  If she's ever had enough you'd be the first to know, and the last to leave. Cleaving. Her sonnet, her mack coat, her topsyturvy skirt, hoop, and dress. Does this foresee a comma, a command a chinese lover ? in a box of tools. No sentence knows the way she feels. Shes hussy to her own, her very own mountain top. And steals to eat, eats to steal. Prays for forest and tenderloin. Tender lion to the allgogomighty her prescient prayer to seeping selves. A woman named D thanked her another named Linda left. Linda's a professor with her eyes on backwards appearing more womanly established as the years go and she's charmed by god. And she's this that and theravada too. In the fascist dictatorship of the territories she's . Yes. Well, someone has died to be born in Parliament. If there's imminence she's gained her place, ground to the unground of being and the courage to become ugly women. Misshapen as the hollering dust. Her halogen dust. Not the marrying type, but a type anyhow to the governing crew. Not the widow's taste for sure, abut three to butt her place in the beast with threeback~s .

_______So it comes to the gambol and becomings of its ever truer instant    ~.

For now and anon  .


Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Jill's August

jill was a barn girl brand exchanger exchequer to the good bad and evil of her desire beyond fans and lighting she'sa worn out harlot dippin her foot in the capitalist stew

she loved the chinese woman her tears her slightly swelled
small breasts and thought of her warmth hot
to the inside of her self and tears to her loving love

lobbing bobbing and robbed by love's . something something something. and the lost punster the giraffe
flag of her euphonic . her self 's the wolf word, the misplaced Russian.
The rebels had to retreat' the war was winding down . she runs with Homer's Hector. Halting the. Her buttocks smooth as the butterd night, moon melting her moony? she swarmed her burning eyes.
Saying to her you're here with us we love.
And love its . She grits her jaw her teeth lover lust.

Now the  exmplary~enemy army 'spreads out' and soon. She's worn to her naked garters. Fuck this. Read me ontological lover. She has her name on his thigh. Okay read the logicals of her . Her tongue tits. She's held by the other held back helding holding her back and the showers rain around her head. She's clipped at the date, have a good afternoon. And her blonde pants. Walked off. She's sunset road. and I have no one to hide ~ it to her yer plateau of selving   ~ others and her banns! she'a rooster of love and the four tides of the wind  ~.


Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Seconde return to immanence not imminence

NESDAY, JULY 20, 2011

  If hearing's not seeing_(she's got a body to )

If hearing
what's she's got is a body with no address. And the lovers line up for N. carrying the weak end of
libido trusted to any servant any poltroon of love ~

les Plages d` imMAnEnCe

____________ What does a word do?   finds a body

If hearing : les Plages d` imMAnEnCe

If hearing
what's she's got is a body with no address. And the lovers line up for N. carrying the weak end of
libido trusted to any servant any poltroon of love ~

les Plages d` imMAnEnCe

____________ What does a word do?   finds a body

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

.: well henry Miller was dyin'

 Duffy was a girl in her spare time. Not that being spare was any realer than bein' twenty one.

She's doing a novena. Thus her reading book is writing the novation dialectic.

Everything seems to suggest that his discourse proceeds according to a two-term dialectic: popular opinion and its contrary, Doxa and paradox, the stereotype and the novation, fatigue and freshness, relish and disgust: I like/I don't like.:: she heard Roland Barthes say that. She did she did she did! After she wrote a thesis this   If I fuck I want to be wanton and do a swish of quoting: " ... the Text is a little like a score of this new kind: it solicits from the reader a practical collaboration. A great novation this, for who executes the work? " Me and Mona fucking. Later she ran down her skeats in a deadheat and reading thus she climaxed.
Novation comes directly from the Latin word novātiōn which meant "a renewing." Its roots are novāre which means "to renew" and the suffix -ion which denotes an action, as in creation or fusion.

So if Henry Miller was dying June was living in  my thighs, my lesbic lover.

well henry Miller was dyin'

Please ExPlain_________________________; MilLer is Dying

To explain is to move to remove from the plain, the 'what cannot be seen' making it plain to view. Is that the idear?

here you go__________________;'Dying in your crying ' that part's a quote from D. T ~. (
guess the name you win!) The rest you  just made  up. of less or more bits and crumbles
                          from you and hither.

'the digital voice rethundering the echo thudding across the playing field.s. And the was no poetry in that, that lyric strained rebacked inthe American voice, that is the simple seed of the complex phrenia of her loving, her bodies many one. ' So was she the true creature and not the explanation epilepsy from schook, the epilespy?

But you spelled explanation wrong! there's no plain in explanation. Yet I sounded it true.A s my schizoears herd it.

she's right, he's naked as the day she's borne her true salt waters to fishers.

_____________ Jill always has F ranny's least interests at heart. She's a fish without water  ~  On the plane, she went to the back.  Timbucktoo and became one with her thing-becomings   ~ .

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Set theory

Thursday, July 14, 2011


 Life itself is a quotation! quotha big Ben. and mister Gumption has tears around the sole of his shoe. both of them, and running along the quais. She's close to nothing showing her heels. To any likely passerby    ~  Buff! my arse Mister Duffy.

         Mona, and Jill, and Franny for that matter, belong here, not there   ~ thee
or nannyonelse knows better. Not what's best, but what's blizzard. To the telling tale. The maniacs know little of nothing any better nor best of anything that ain't nutthin'. Harumph to you too Mister   ~ 
                                      A sore neck does any lover good  ~ 

 From craning her sheets to raking her leaf. And brass holding, and gold verisimilitude, and decisions about the fridge, and life itself is the poem   ~ So hey ho  ~ !
A maniac's a maniac no matter how you square it  .

_________________________Rough round the edge beveled postage   ~.

Beginning comma end  .


Saturday, July 09, 2011

Mona's Pelt

Transcension transubstansian
her transubstation

her substrata

her substation

these and both her mouths filled as she waist bending to the flower of the valley    ~ Both mouths filled   ~  as she needs them. Once she was three now two and one 'll do   ~in  apinch ofa squat of a ruse that's true.

 Shes'a  backdoor 'man' that is she's a woman A. Awomban's view.

 Then again men don't bleed so the full moon playing a slower record at the speed, say of, 33 and a wavering quarter  ~ 

                             Cleaning a difference that makes one? She tilts chin upward speaking.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011


Since the world became it began a rudder too grow its awful spout. Roughed by the pullulation of the grimy thing. In itself it was nothing  yet ~  it whispered. Hinges of tales and what not  .  Tala tala a waking call to beckon bridges. At the half self ridge as things reunite climbing the far ladder ~ .

Every young animal knows the difference shifted between things and plus signs. Working backward she crunched  crossing the smallest thing. Ringed by the toward motion toboggan and left handed steerin'. Vessel of thing and that its ring around . Not a cumbersome phase, but the dispositif and the disproportionate thing holding it together. Not the thing beside itself but the other one rung along the tide tacking with its boat, and pleasure craft ~ .

So Mona. So Mona geled t h e thing coming between all united things ~ Blessing her heavenward cleave ~. to 


Monday, May 23, 2011

-----------------------------------A feint

  A handy andy man she was ? A schizio ladder? a table a rent a pent

-------------------------little ladder did he make thee?
round the wind off the lake too many ambulaters? Of such as these has been no one... time's off the sensual seeing essence    ~ O patwish! O plato! O my aristotle throttle! O

 _______________________________Jill rubs her back against the inward onion. She's a made her outside inside to its between boob knockers!
O owch!

Mona's fragment mouth

 Hubub! to her frag mouth/ Piece of/curl to its twinning two chorse, double layer double jinxed lover to her storming. Strongman lover barn to its sail   ~ Not sale's pitch but yeoman to her baker. June's the month of hideyhide and wanktank! War and its zone! a zone,a road, a breach, a rea  ~ you break off the letter mouth, as clutter stumblebum your waking effet feet . Her tits, babble boozle to her hangone look.A nd the woman speaking in the window utterly self possessed yet as any lover she's oozing it . Two to the zigzagger ziggarut  of her time. A puff she's haling  a cigarette a breast the sleeve of her blouse falling down was she seeing Jacky seeing her see?  Possibly meant to see be seen obscene her lover's glad catch. Like simple plays to rut talksthe speech of lover's go.

                       She always hears this. The heartyharhar of goofy men goggles askew on her slanting arse. Ass is what yanks say.. she's a slut to the harpoon dock no matter to her way of thinking. Which is striking to the Penelope aboard, but reeking to the rest of 'em. what she says is this: 
                                                                   Paris or bust! me galore. A gorgeous weed  funky as the cylinder she's hearing . A day a wheat a wrong righted presents no serious addendum to her injury's help. Legitmate receipts wrinkle the nose of would be loving hers as she's abed with Franny's jukebox tune. Smooth as the old plane of consistency itself   ~ 


Wednesday, May 18, 2011


 Hold your horses ! your skateboards. Moan Mona along the gliding bed of dentata  ~ date entry to middle pleat, the plateau of cake and onions, chance card to the burying song, cart to the amazing summer of sun   ~its ring round Saturn is the pawl of the inward ring the onion ring    ~ Jill hefting the machine gun of her thigh crackling burnished to summer's rent. and the pal went down hence all fortunes are flung to the wind lover's fling as witching brooms     ~  something to raise blue and blue and other blue passage to the winged horses, zebras, centaur to a word 

Jill and her tousled hair double lover to the mix max page jeep and  readies her double lover glitch the campaign arising from   cellar mates kerning and keening    ~. It's an Irish way and its barrowing along country roads and lanes does the trick   ~ triumphant as any Knight her riding boots got pins and rimed tires caps that sparkle in dark after moon showing   ~"
  Jill and her gang haranguing the auguries '  So it is coming to become red to blue green to red scarlet and trampoline 
                                               and all the dark colour between   ~.

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

hey what ho !

She gave her a clothes line in the face, elbow driving  her right into the boards,
an arm shiver, next thing you k now she was tearing it apart on the ground ,
for to tell the heaven. It was darling groundless abyss  becoming and the Dardanelles and the monsters also and the pithy eyed gods the Assyrian mammoooth and Dogone the traitor in blue skinned to the bone
with predator's finer fingers, shackles,  wheels and thought; And not
a secret to him
and the offal the tents

and along the ground river berry
ridges of other nameless ones a soughing on the Volga
the terrible thread of snow coming in

Are mad my Mona kissing her the wind pulling tearing
her buckle made a rise in
a c ross the 
she's a breast of it

now tooting the fortune hot as blazes and
at the other meadow lilac and laburnum?
ushering the dew pressed heather

linen and geese honking along a factory of tents
and the newspaper hearts go to greet the willow
the elm drooped by her page and white flame burnished burning
      crested iridescent at the top of the gage

winning this route we backed out Mona chaired along the backs of things ruins they'd call'd them but seeing as they was looking in their microscopic element they'd found better and more earnest things to plague them bell fragment inclined to doctoral stethoscopes and her rare smile large alfalfa pulsing
in Ireland in Alabama in rose-weed and teak

the fins green a wind a wide a pine
pining in my heart this breathless longing
Mona's fair pine
mercury to the grey misted gleams of glassware

________________ The slim march ~ .

Thursday, April 21, 2011

... mand s

  Commands Monstrous deeds

                                 through the paranoid streams then we . ran. no,  she came , no she ran  ,  came.  she ran   ,   came second   .   Seconded by breath   spilling the invincible infinitive t o its . placid 
    Mona how it hurls the language. No that's rong , it's wrong .

We came by the water, breakers curled up round the raft. Our dashboard. No, it's the mother board. She call it. Who ? Mona calls it pavement blue red green turquoise  green with basalt salts thrown in.

 Over the rain. 
                                 The beggar hock by jowl. Jolly thing... no, it's working it's plague electronic __________Mona shields the past! Zing! Bang! off theshield. Good Jill boxed by her hens and . and the blue ship holding water... hanging at the bay and  it took water all afternoon in the deep spirit of things...

Jill was belonging
                               She was belonging . And far to Ghent she went. Fair to the smooth inn of the potbellied. And over London town haze and glow of twilight and .
Rivers smooth as buttocks. Rustled by gods and their banter. Pah! If the hefty water pushed us  .... that was grain ... and salt along the riverbank  

                                   Rivers swell as riant  rivers do
                    Pushing the nape of things
                                                                             there   ~ 

Saturday, April 09, 2011


  Sharing her song word sex. Hex to the double union. An auction an unjunction to freeze the unseen woman . Fresh from the powder room. She's roared back to the quay. Along the Paris

pier nothing but Poe in the pillars, pie in the sky, she's belted around the good bad and ugly, the goons.

Those way she's silver to the room and the moon's going in backward to her  well. Her well-scene cage and the  sibilant hour    ~ .  IF she lays cotton down there's no perambulator for the thing. Then ebb tide tilt and spending forward she's knows she's got grass green. Having hung out the wash, and a  moiled sky  . No combat furthers her vibrant modesty. Nor waiting for a smoked out verb, a register nor a regiment of cabin liners. Habderdasher never miss a moment. Amber and green and uphilted around her low button shoe.

She's remembered the memory and frosted its taste. Glass and silver and orange crates. And she's certainly not a two time town crier!
Huff she goes and comes round the end of the page lancing her pace. A giddyup gallop  wisens her up. Over the top she comes and this way she sees the end of the  inexhaustible hour,a  radiant marks her place. A breath a lung  a ringing cache of panhandling phantom union. And not closer than a cup tie she's made it . Her bet. Back to the Sorbonne she arrives, and now it's 1978. Early and easy on her career modest efforts to break the unity of the spare rib, and sapient to her Reason.

So Jill and the rest of the gangling gals.

                                            Everyone knows heading whichway   ~ .

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Jacky and the cunning witch you one she is

This is segmental.

 Come again you hearties. back to the land. and avenues of .
whose legs     ..                     covered   .             cobbed  ..             cobwebbed .

                 whose legs covered web

         legs covered
___________________She hates to read news along the strata of  her bayou. She's roughed up her eyes then Ear. This is a troublesome pirate. A regular around the clock bucaneer.
                          'covering legged cobweb'
                                              'cobwebbed legs covering '
                                                                        ' angles' 

She /
 whose legs were covered in piss
                                                                     piss not peeve
Peeved at the medication  /punkies/ 
            dry skin
                     an     whose potato peel sphaghetti pale skin
                                                cross eyed leaning into his Ear
                          i tell you a joke
And they shat pants. And . 
                                           her hand jerking jerked him 
  her hand reached into his short pants on the swing 
                                                                                she whispered a joke into his ear
             on the swing Sunday afternoon
                                                                    Linda the cross eyed  'Olive oil'  you could say
she was between Vincennes and the other 

travels abroad_______________________&; A  Gab's her name she's got seven sheets to her ribs. Shes got a qualified case of pneumoia not the river of C. and bee stank round the faded glade of her buttgoal. And she was buttlocks galore. round the tree of ., not a south but wondering to its desire hymen busted gutted by its geese. and the southern gore. to be discontinued .

                            A Gab is not Ahab! you gooser! Malarkey is what she says. Come to her farm she's got things galore and more.

was hard its  traditional 

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

You start here

Because you breath like a nut. You screw the thing. Which tingles blind man. Samson and his gut. The rough wrench . Twinkled as a  sky does lowering its cloud hastening the rich pasture dumping its seed. Find optimism on breath. As wreaths hoist their flags.

Can you see.   Eyes get tinier. Athousand millionaires hold the . To mother and. In this fantasm the mother introduces the key players. The brothel opens its folding door, and you .

Jill: No, start again. Shift then .  Pan . No, Bacchus ... on your head... 

Mona : 2000 bodies washed ashore  ;  

Franny retreat  ; is this earth  ?

She forgetting the metonymy ....  metonym  

metonymy ... it's Felix that said ; well it's  between breaths of thought ; hold on cloud ; 

   She can't recall.
Who brought the atomic wind?       1945  was brought by Uncle the Sam    ~  it's ironic it's .  Irony is putting it mildly .

     "Chase a radio active cloud " 

 ____________________________At the beaches...   Something is happening. How do rub... fictive and real... It's real and history's melting ?

Octaves of death.

 it's not an atomic explosion....

 The ides of March     ~.

Wednesday, March 02, 2011



 Blue as a  river    .    Dark as a  night. So the cloud  .  Bulk blue sky ask the anagram word. Of the
name . So the plateau rivers delivers its own self. Along the rink dark as the skater's legs,

and the ring between        the sky and ocean  ~  and lips over hips and the word as its vessel

ties   fingers over thighs . and the    ~

_____________________  Reaches rich ceilings , itches the sky

of the lover body      ~ whole as  the calender between legs 
of the lover and stranger tangled in their start  as the lover
speaks   ~.  Jill heeling and the transome the rain  the   


Sunday, February 27, 2011

.... has never been worse

Mona is worse than the Cantantians. They, at least, are only looking forthe Father. But Mona's looking for "daddy". Schizo-sisters of desire myass.

My ArSeing Lord
what's happend to the gambit
at half mast!
Mona's a jewel roughs up the pages of all ages. Camps on the bivouac of buttocks standing room only her only cope.

She's a trollop on the third degree. Here are the mends she's gotta take. This one, that , and others. Bothers her trebled heart, her round table trouble and desire. Not the  bifana! O witch of the pallor, pulsing 
spin  ~
Aieee! Dogs! Knights!Clamour your armour. O columns and Italianate be your peace desist ~ .

_____________________ i have jerked off your smallest breasts.

_________________________________ Dont flaunt your fonts at me you wordslut ~ . 

Monday, February 21, 2011

One of those

schizoreneo @little wrote:
--------- Characters in a framed narrative make ----- and her gang angry and upset, those who are not literalists read literally. They make false connections and make precisely the error they wish to avoid. A void that is not their's but a black hole she creates thinking Levinas will save her. Ah, she says, I am psychotic, tell me it is not true. But it's true, he the Father loved and hugged me. Ah, but father was your word, her word. I have no father, my father is in heaven.
"When Orpheus lost his head, he found a piece of it in her mouth
Eurydice and her children in hades
in that place _______________________
                          (any space of death and ashes)
                                                         Orpheus goes to look for Eurydice
E. speaks She cries out after him.
E. has her own kids
                                   O. gets killed again, by thesong
                               Eurydice and Orpheus the Opera.

 She am one of those people who have been to the desert and carry it with ...
up if you wish here is nothing more useless than an organ.When you ill have made him a body without organs you will havelivered him is automatisms and resom you will teach him again to dance wrong side frenzy of dance hallside out will be his real

Tuesday, February 08, 2011


we cld. get dirty here pretending.  pretend it's a prose poem of ruinous proportions and we fucked all night . as i came in your  _- over the the    while rambling around  Amsterdam Belgium France and other European capitals of pain

justify columns your ass was straight but not a heart but heart shaped asthe hatred the envy of woman the envy of woman her breathless admiration and hate of others the ones ready to overthrow empires for a look and the cool? collective unconscious of snakes fuck you mister nazi jung its a place where people work all day hot assed to the rhythms of terror

Jill knows better __ whores are looters. Lotteries are not lovers, the pale wench wrench's denial of love'sbeauty.   Cuttin her hair in her case makes no difference,she's a s sick as ever. As were the moles.---------------------->

Mona cuts along the friendly loop devoicing the invoiced anorexia of this pace. reprove and return to love's ode, no rancour O lover flower    ~

Monday, January 31, 2011

to do and

What to do? with this O heart?

'End. Now Franny G comes over with Mona and takes Jill home. Jill is
very ill, and in a wheel chair,
or sometimes a cane.

That is love, that                       is

called love, and it is immanent, not out there somewhere.

. And so there was no space left after the great one had   gone. Not even a particle, so we went for strumming on harps and
 transmissions of deterritorialized partitions between one brain and

'And  So there was no space left after the great one had
gone. Not even a particle, so we went for strumming on harps and
transmissions of deterritorialized partitions between one brain and

Did you write this before Franny or does Jill sending it long the transmission wires of self? We'll keep talking back and forth long the ranges of its latitude.  This way it keeps things going....

As sun and winter mark . Not the  thing but the other space of its going  ~ .