Tuesday, December 10, 2013

....__a shorter history of madness


   a shorter history of Mona's madness  .. her prepossession and frank avoidance of the real was a blameworthy project second to none but how about finding a utopian porcelain filled with the feature future. an ass of gold.  Baalam's  heap? a red holding regiment stinging on the fell sport of t he night. a heaving sword

   no she's back into a infinite coroner of algebra not allegra or allegro but the wellington boot and its parent song

   Jill's got a  gypsy womb

                       t here's nightmares in it and her bulgarian beat.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Rang night knight

Sirra sort you know, Mona hence she's thitther to it.
Love's bowry! O the nights in New York with Edna-
Vincent bowing at the alt
ered ego of the rushing god and the heaving leg limbering the occassioned ruffle

knight of
her three plus

Love's three its dowry sort that you chider winked on the dumb speed its prettiest


Jill's aloof in the silhouette of the day rolling over thunder-clapping its' holding past

tense to exhume her gallow gaping. her heel uplifting in the diving down. Come over
mouth move your cogitation first , hefted by heel and kneel.

Franny's kinder is a divine paragraph!not verse but a chunk of lake then wheat.
Or a worthy slender witching broom.

A writer like you has no time for its tiny. O the tousle. yes, a thousand  things

between and the among. Above its raving . And her the old cow ruminated. and the

other one gabbered in the .One pc hand shaking-the turve or the other was that the word escaping? Mister Chaos? Hither and thither swan

leck, saw leg! swan beck! beckoned by the second.

Decks a dog better than this forward pass. In my own city, the pity! Cries O

O knolly.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Mona around her hair_ ExperIments at funereal

Mona has a screaming queen. she's buried the dead yet the dead are relentless

restless won't quit, kick back dust dirtying the living. It strings along

this line of thought informs her shaping care and night worry.

On the other hand, Franny the good goes to bed with J1J1is sleepfucking with Jacky. Mona Mona the inventor of a tale and a book. Not like the bourgeoisie or the bushwashee! . She has cold fish hands, and daily forgetting the remembering squalls of her language learning she removed . She's removing the reproving volume of slim tales and peeling curlers around her hair.

Jacky returns back-to-back finding her three to one. Out in the quiet. The bold land quiet. A tear in the cared for rare silent. Muffled kiss caress of four to one her double-eyed jinx.

                 There aren't enough hours in the day to love you. Franny. Her mouth's long as wider a tuba a sheer cliff face of drop. Can't explain herself write backward as the speed of . thought her nearest thighbone neighbour. find her at home on the couch with J and she's welcome surprised love. A freedom to hold the other an extremely good-looking man.
                                      The stupid Christians believe they think but are  mystified by the second generation Bulgarian slav-faced lover who's sex is stronger .  Blaming the other always, Satan the Satuday bum. Poor old Satan, poor old Saint Nick. Christians equal crucifixion, the purple crucifiction. A boy named Henry Miller.

Her face's Slav the the rain. Along the line of crevasse and sheer cliff-face. As it working the air of disdain and like ? As she worried the wandering ? And reciting her bare book? She cambered to its needing know? And her panties? She pulled J to her face crying sigh to her saying mine mine mine you're mine you took him now you are mine . I won you her lissome degree of three. If she's homosexual it's because he's. Not.

Tonight she's hepster to the full moon a sailor going berserk. An empty cliffha

(ginger!) a real dinger poorly dressed.


She's writes very side to her big. So Jack holding her there spells the name of suicide. Inside Suicide is a very big bad. A gold allegory. That is why , I mean how come Avita is the one , she's the one 's got the hold . on the Gold. In the Fa _ Gallery . Gl_Flagrant denial. We wont use tha t speech here. Even if we cant keep up  ~ the wound's she blest in her behind she's left behind   ~ .

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Hiking skirt tale

barnstorming pilots, circuses, carnivals, preachers, seasons changing, winter, autumn, spring and summer, hill- billyshows, snap dragons, mayflowers, organ grinders, gushing grannies, mocking devil women, hijacked hussies,

___ then emergs being . of the above over nothingness that sung so long it's forgot its name. a bit like the one god history a false

contology!  Mona's remarkable sail boat has kept the curtains growing on that one so long. Curtains! a paper bail over the tabernacle/ Something about paper over the peeper thing. a billgoat tucked away inside....

   Oh yeah, people like keeping their porch doors open in the summer get a breeze till some of them big ass dragon type flies, really dirty looking things, comes along , buzzing and biting.

   heavy nasties/ filthy dirt    ~ smog meat.   death bait.    end of spite world end.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Poor cochlea my love


Is the elaborate view the view then? along the trade adversity and riding surf? one calling it surf deceives the reader's view a despair at vision wanting the thing to become what it's not

a daredevil deterritorialization!  Huff puff the wing sky  ~ ampersand the whirlinginng frogginging night. Afrayed of sources and ludic pavement   ~ you wish you had that book hooking its gas range to your head now. What exoteric nonsense is that this would range so closely to the crying fire?

-------------- Mona's still as a  pot. Freighted to the one thing needed.A wised-for hope at the breath of . Clop Clop Clop. Is the words runtwogather their knit an weed.A widow's weed persnap?A shelf of booking end(s) and greeters fraudulently harping hair-wringing to the end. O thee of the half -brick moult. Add period comma splice sentence hold off her hold off you holiday you pickaninny swart!~ Its only time and making money hold you back. To bark and back its sliter solemn need. Get closer to that ins(n)ide word.A closer word to heft its bold mop, and morpheme the cement of kenosis a child barren gloom! Loam of the word hair raise your houri for me. A gulp a glimspse genii in a bag.

Jill hanging over climps glimspe  ~ O as a pair of woman's breests! her cleets!

Sunday, July 28, 2013


 --- to start at the end of the midst it's best service thataway! dig it pad over the heels of the forsooken Knight.

if Jill knew the gig was up, she upped the ante-chamber split the sentence in four , she perfumed the road, moving aside the bustling vehicles traveling up her side .  Her head's  a tweak for sunsets and abodes, there's no point shining as no one's home    !

  Continue   the sage saga anon as she's got a family kitchen to tarry her ills. A tare's worth of smidgen on the bilious hope of renewal! what bollocks of blunder is a family . A subconscious fair me drawl

A pink ruffle in the night's word.


Tuesday, June 25, 2013


                 Gussied up the little tart became widow. Window as in this glass she's aperture to her sage. Cracker. and merger to the twotimbucktoo and her boyish love grown long as her near sighted fish. Of my fish and lev of level mergent to the sobbing mettlesome crew of the crunched up fece.. we're not hurried by resentful reintroducing gods. A reign is a .  Well, she's hold forth back to her toothsome buck! There's nothing softer to the eye than this nervous tick. A steam engine rolling was pinks to the dawn.A shit hinkied up the russianmoth pelted its wing, and cambering along a road, a white blue and lavender, no a maroon truck was it she say? Or is that cambric round, wreathing her lace neck? Leman, leman of that brook.

Come to the weird soviettopple of your red wall and crest the curtain. She's hegel to her whithershin spooning the supply glide of anno domnini and round cradle boxes, and cardinal numbers too.

  Jack calls me to. Jacky calling call Jacky cackle hacle your misted breasts. She's Mona's boat and Fanny's got it curtain to the final ending! consumatum est a pink steward for each particular unfair dawn. of its practice.

   Mona bowing her out,  Oona entering the shell, its long beach hence. However the gnostic truth the gnostic troop believes other than wise.

  Oona come here. Mona go out .


                                                                          Mona took the carrot juice.    Not a hegel salve at all. Nor the fostering north zephyr.


Tuesday, May 07, 2013

so they


shoveled high

a high one

branded the hope

bust the bane

ran the turnpike kept clearing the teapot coping with the mechanisms of fruit and fame. a line of move/.turn

 about /a line of run

                         a line of slip

   a  line of hold to the

   veerring to the left / 
                   hanging to the right/ port that's port and Jill's on her way back to Paris and surface empiricism a strange puzzle of snythetic junctions

 r inging the bell

               O swell unity of trumpet

Between the whole's nontotalizable love and the rest of bucket we're rigging a sun, a parlour  a suburban lilt loving the night




Tuesday, April 02, 2013

reversal chaos of love



    Mona'n Jill gunmetal studs-seafoam vest  display the breasts of  yessir les best des conitions as the will making whacky the loving body-- its a q uantum of daynight mo uth longi ng to the pot of death lets escape this language  I love with a impossible thing

                     her mouth's a catching prick


                                                                                       those thighs  and

  the buttocks be i d that they te dered made her twisting torque (an painful even at the knowing watch)



           bankrupt   the body is  painful                                           (at its rugged love cost)

                                                                                       and  a chide

                     a aw wf ul voice jabbering i to the tin box  ('cell')

                                          with the bod y of her  love

                                                                           an   i forgot 

 but the  orbs turning to    to' me' turretheadme ~ of the black of the sandy coast taste her eyes


Saturday, March 09, 2013

haze of capitlalism


  In the haze . the haze of capitalism was the reunityfictation of the self.


theroem one and two one and one making  fi ve to go. it seams Jill's Mona.


'On a  (Ona Oona) li(gh)ter note  who cares about bread , butter, melody and mud? except at a given time, a  moment of sanding pop culture's all we got    ~


Tuesday, March 05, 2013

Lumping it all twogather


Lumpenspace princess  thought it's patriaRchy. it aint. not that sample. it's the commintern dog, the soviet pilaster poof. professeror's of emeritus and the moonlight scarf of.

Jill humdeho.
Mona  athankful geese
and the other stucking her thimble in the plate  close to the tardy duality of being. if they had a sinthomme they got it over! bullshit toi rang her hanky using oil and fragrance of the capital gains tax. Not a spoof for this knight but her  (c)ock riding her cock(robin) ride.


Monday, March 04, 2013

A poetry eater

  JIll's a poetry eater a twinsome twotime poetry eater. An eater of groove and pelt/ around the wrong way of a symbol

& the night was good. She bore a foot solider long and the Queen sat two in the barrel of the   thing beside the place over the hole , the sewer where the     guy was ranting wave, and the run bounce car moved a common ground above

and Jill heard the democratic morsel an eternal parcel was it Mona suggested sense falling at her feet laughing at the fool god thinking he was the only one begotten before the others made and unmade eternity before heaving heaven.

Sunday, March 03, 2013

in cave

---- Now Mona's met Jack the back not the hegel the bagel and  the Comminist Princess  ~ but they wont let her work the dioceces dildo  corny stories abound false memories of the sentimentalizing machine repacking you back baked goods   
they were doing it  
   they were 
       i n  the cave
            in  the cave with the water splashing all around they were doin it doggystyle a centuaur horse
on the run but now shes a  hard ass hooker for the territory king capital

suckered her deaths inta image image now she fucks with  a god capital ruins

shes godzilla not giraffe of rain an' joy
  O come get out of there get outta here with yer copping out corpse corporate   running  panhandle paranoia

--------------------- Now does Jill see MissHegel's handy dialiectic? no matter her hair's parted down the middle its game  time at the 7pm getup . Her mirror's a box of selves.

   Now Mona's not a jackboot, but it'd be better if Jacky came to see her. Out of her veils of mourning and the capitalist float signifying . Out of the capitalist veil.

  Dont steal these words.


Sunday, February 24, 2013



Being soprano was not her style. hers was chariots and buckwheat. Nervous smiles and  the witching hour dancing on a  bum. A dime for any laguna _ she's got an alias for a situation. Comedy's not her forte but goat's ass aint her bag either Anymore than hanging out with aunties and uncles , old Bobs, dead-beats, squares, and she's not keen on being seen as a palooka; don't like wiseguys, or sappy mud wearing satyrs. But shes' won with the wending ass of her girls. Stray she might be she's loyal as air, and wondering as chamber music as it cups its hand on her ass in the dark. O k shake those ringlets! wipe that smile off, no hold those big bad eyes up. Come closer you shirker. No more strikebreaking days for you honeypie. Your restless night are over. Singlular and plural subjecting objects to the ringsome throw of your awful laugh. She lived in a radio between the tubes and the rube~o she's a  hussy witha  pussiewussy!.

  Okay Mister Romeo.

_                                                          _ this intensity's beckoning your style.


Saturday, February 09, 2013

dont hang on

  the ~E deposit of faith is what they called it. Mona's shakin' around the corner, she dont care, from aroun' the corner where she lived, first saw the film, smoking the teacher , the gawky translator wanting sex with her but too scared, too married to ask

now they get married to money, breadth, and death, crippling the union of difference with sameness confined  portrayed as difference,

but she knowing better dont hang onto that shit.

 In Montreal , it's always like that around the Main, St. Lawrence a , stolen street, a
language , trying to pretend? to be itself...

is that what you say? the loss of an accent and a posture an attitude

hold ye(r) perfection back honey we gonna bust this book.. it's travelling along the lane that counts a s a timbre counting makes a song bust up and run! hightail it to the hills!
A centaur leaping at its name. Imagine making love to a centaur how the horsewoman feels in the thighs, neck, and hips, the sigh , the moan of lust grabbing at all that ...

could be a wrenching apart of the knee joints at the tendons of a leg disappearing into the cloud of summer dust



Tuesday, January 22, 2013

~ Elaborate


Mona's got a spellbound dog; two sister neck to neck bust the semicolonisaiton of the bog of speech. Ordering round your arm to wrist wordings we've had enough.Can you    ~ ____ in my speech. its what i am leaving out that counts! the wanna turn you into a work Protestant suffer. Suffer no fools! no capitals! No lists! hahahaah a dog working ina  street declaring a long dare down.As on the hair of her haid Natasha Natasha her teeth acooshla acoosh gnash ya gnash ya her perturbing smile. A

                                  She'd never be indented beyond a smile perhaps