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   ~.