the paddler of white

The rain comes home.A sunken raveling bits and pieces her train tarried memory over Europe's belly. This was heard in the south song of her merit, the notorious weight auspicious to its white finger and the barbells of sunset, and the reedy fox roughed up by the passage of jerks felled the wishing city choked by its pants, and Eden at its pace the verb foreheaded with truth, and the breath cactus hurled its thought alongn the pinky-pinky alley, not sure of its hold on reality.... But reality is your friend now... the snow came along the window a cheeky visitor suffering from insomnia and the frail packing reminiscent of dubious gifts and Mona's cache filled up water overflattend the room swelling her choicest chin and . Franny rang the phone cutting her __ what's that? come over? Sleep with us, quickly.

A pause for every darning page.

round two

_______

Little darling soften your truth. Veracity’s not your strong moon. Mona’s moon wants to wet the embankment __ near the river, she’s hocked everything possible. Others call it parallel parking she’d like to think of it as three in one. Odds are two to 100 she’s made it to the dregs of love. O love, what a bareback bully that is! Fanny come to your Franny, this will is mine, the very fact of it is toothsome. Yer handsome as a lane and tracking every god.Bless this yearning, bless this longing. Pine your heart away, this caught is god in its between ruth. Along the bible, she swerves momentarily glancing along its amorous clay. But she’s not Gulag lover, so she’s passing tickets on . Is this god your one? Not her, shes got her Astarte and because it’s a headstart she’s first in class, and last to cleave. Yes, Mona my fucklove your handsome elbows’ve

caught all our leaves.

Anti visits everyone who's at home.

cameo

round enough

Round this everything she hearkended for. Blessing soup and cabbage, to her Jacobins were capons, and the cutting machine markingthe terror! the error of its city street bleeding. Not the mens bodies and the women and the bread the stones sailing clear across the wall of the cobblestone. Verisimilitude was not her best shot. Okay lean out the lintel with your boobs blessed. She’s shaking the linen dry. Past most she has the air of wanting erudition. Becoming this way she’s the doubled begun lover. Covered in the skill of love’s lass.

__________________ She climbed over that strata with a fascination beyond bearing, hoping for all expecting the least. Then the world , or maybe the world keeps clear.

What does her noun expect her verb predicate.?

sagacious

Sagacious as lillies? or lits. des lits d'bord? word cop/los/aht. shakes that wa'/y in her mouth. round thending paradigmatic automaticword . no coy. or . Mona shake head. Cauliflower, floral batting 'n her hair.....

She gotta secret. Inside her hairpin? Upspeak to her uplifted asscheek she want him to herher kiss it.

Since she's a mathematician she wants him to count. Count round her asscheek hefted to moonsigh. Its a dirty spot, but bared! with longings. Dirty is a word that . word that dirty. come around my dirty hands. i kissed. Mona grabbed back Fanny, Fanny's would side on Jack. Doubleenclaced round her arms wreathing round his

Melodie en sous-sol. Under their.. yes, its plural. Come thy .

savant

Shes a savant wearing boxing short. Short, and tall. As any lanky . Bane. Not bane, but . Okay then. Say take Jill wears a clothes.

Barrowed stratafictation. A savant is an _ as in 18th c English. in the coffee house(s) . Add s. a consonant who's receipt's never done. Garner. Over field produce. Take time, caulking. Put her and his in her . Jill ‘s married to a thumbnail. Inside her. and then. some. and then. some. and then. It’s the weather vane. Confusing the clodhoppers. It’s the mist. And the confabulation of the false portrait. Fennel and root. Boot the claw

Jill has a speed gum, she’s wearing in her rosepetalled glove.

cement

Marooned by backseats, she's chesty to the swashbuckled water, a league or two more,and she's homebound for more ferries.

The rain wills its peace. She's narrow to a bridge. And peace to bound.

_______________
Headress and her bonkers. One and a time she purcharged a book. Purchased a book. She was woman to her kind. Gilles became Jill. A gilly sort of thing, sexy as the onest of them awls. She's banned to her pate, and mate to her fate. what's this sword of copped smooth self. Is that Freud you're wearing? Come along she turn the semicolonnade upside down, she's Parthenon to her tomfoolery, hobgoblin to her matey.It's the high seas! and no telling where they'll end. On the rivers of Antartica! or Boliva, the faraway countries of the south and . And harmonica mouth


Fracas my dear it's yer favoured ... letter of the bell episteme to her jar of well used truth. Not a necklace but a spare bedroom. Something,okay, and the meaning of life? Well, go and ask your friend Aristotle.Claire is coming this afternoon, do you want to meet her?She's very keen on something you said last week. Oh yea? and then the pillar, and the gruesome island, the gull and the . And that it, no that,no it rose, the wind, the wind was rising, it was rising, and rising like any kind of horizon it was,
you might say
an epistemology of analogy and unsureness, upspeak to upass .

bub

Hey bub, whats up? Shes gotta a plastic plate to serve him. And this servo mechanism 's no doubt its the best .



Your hands filter love Mister President. This way the metamodelization creating furrows reaches to other path.


Mona's heart becomes sky _____________ earth

________________Wind ___________________ Sky

_____the Sea______________________________

We'll hold the love of patient men and women holding the future of its hope. Practicing the red ring's ever growing enchantment. We call this Love: the collective love of all incoming becomings.

stickler

A stickler for love. Okay. Now take that combine the result with... you have the infinite summary of love!
becomings ebb flow jerk back / rush over the dock... where are the people rushing around this planet... hiding in hills deep in the jungle... ? Non, non Mona my love you are the collective spirit of human love multiplying your democratic dreams in each body every mouth speaking striving towards the future that is summoned and coming now to our door step. We are the lovers of mankind the brother of the planet __ the pulsing molecule Earth.

confine

__________________ Mona continue her patch in the domain of the Other.

Someone by the name of. Foucault wanted to confine her. With the lepers and so on. They were bastards at that school university academic death to the wishes and wise of the people. The people, being a character, of such a character, run around naked swearing the 12 steps, the riot blankets of epistemological get togehthers creating a new format of subjectivity.

If you think that's bad well being a deconstructed savant is worse; it does not pay and people want to give you a guilt complex. So more and more younger folk are becoming actors of the worst sort and that rationalizes being dead. Wearing make-up and getting laid by strangers who dont give a shit, or a fuck. If you gotta a big ass, preferably shapely and supple to go, you get in. Bring your textbook too, and recite the Lord's pauper prayer with the other good boys and girls holding hand.

No matter what some say we are not capitalist assholes. Assholes are beautiful and capital is not.

Come to the hip hospital baby I will be your doctor. We are moved beyond grapes! and listing and grapefruit. O come Oye gatherers and gated cities we are barely hours from the crop!

_____________________________ The riding crop thinks Jilly andher billy-boots

______________________

This way

___________________________________________So they say! my mysteries. And buckled we'd
readied to dock ________________but the bamboozled ship went Blink!
That way shes string bean. Potateos and fries.

goats and satryrs

What s that tragedy and nimbling leaping apes? The gongoozla of death, the ape of apparently dying you King! O forsooth your buckets are brained with the leap! A bludger 'd do bette than this... recording the ridding string. O something all the way epic simile and passive retense. Complete with outsized dictionary to acquaintance herself with the mystery of fording rivers. Say a mongoose fleering you in the wood you camped at _____________She bivouacked the weird garden. Its garden not gadarene,a christian was preaching, seven women were breathing.

They took their clothes off. We went to them. We pray, O transcendental god,
be our Immanence . Kiss my shoogaloogas!

For every dealt theres a redealt . We play table cards both ways bettering our boobs on the counter.

Fanny say the capitalist stay as budgeable frozen food and nacreous feet. And say its the metonymy part of its wished for whole, the synecdoche of women's hand on his hasped ass. She wants to encircle his ass with her buttocks. Kissed the thing of unnameable love and deterritorialization. If its anecdotal its because she's iris fleec'd with her Messiah complex. Better than simplex schizophrenia and the other laden jagged patois of brain doctors.



The last minute hotel.

the wholesome parts

does a machine work ?partime me part of the time

the whole and its parts . the bride of part(ing[s])_____________shifting orderzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Mona hankers for rough pullovers and sweet walk.Along the bridal shore she's better than nothing but close to everything. Her reading is in-breeding and invoiced like any tricking suit. Alone ranger whips out her breast. Suck me! she cries in the plural of the possessive unity of embarked self. Come around here and come around her, and you two can see the three in one disunified bodiless.

At the meeting it's not a show, but she's bare necked lips, ready

for a whipping lashing

crowning the hour of her merging .

------------------------------------------

The episteme signs

sealed with a bliss ~.

_________________

Jill's feather.

__________________

fumble

alien is knot alien_nation and ratio cination concatenation. O ration You patient cunt! You reverse simple. this fay is busted chiaroscuro on the cock's christ _ 1962_ slightly too young as walked with __ rose the street of Bohemia poetry cellar __ laterly finger clapped then riding with the 1967 _ long hair your ass cutting the wind, as a shive does, and a shriving too, you cutslut ratedback to the rational butt.


the only censer is the censoring of the lamp. At Hotel A, the blare gives light its rough page. Of these deconsruing has its best latitude.


Mose(S) you imbecile is the commanding officer of the dragqueen unit . Inword he was bearded as any piss artist was, a geology of the tramps. And on the counterpanes, his cock-a-doodle-doo!

Hugger-Mugger I love thee.

Come to your ass.

Come to it relatch the paingrasp of your love glove.

_______________________

The darling pinups

strip

and come around us

surrounding bodies

add our love potion ~ .

dingle

Shivers up her asshole spine. Any fuck you slup. Slobconscious to the spoookey. ness of your slop. call it the 'hardassed hedgewhore. language as the tobaggon soup of a deadening godeye o you intrinsicself slaver your pate before getting out of breakfast|Can you hear the getting off skirt, before the war begins. Booom! Boom! Boomb! it comes rattling down a chambering implosion to the bomgbomb on the skirts of town. A little switch to the west, we have whipping dog, and burialed mounds of motherfuckers time. A Switch east to the broomstick of the jolly joyrider of time, whoremasters pay complete, her skirt's off now, a violin picks her underthings off what they call it? Shit? Is that it? Shit! O Shit! O Shit. Shit. And then it unearths the folly of joy and the condemning rature raptures of heat, and the beatstring ass. Jewel buckets up her arse, she says, lickit. Haberdasheries ass we have a code 9 here, and the erotic shits filled with wheat. Down the elbow its microdot incorporated and the degenerate detective novel in plain pieces. folk like it that, especially nazi ones. You dragoon you!

parting ruffling

If parting is ruffling she's shoulder to shoulder with the wind, clouting it back to its determined flux, honking along with the geese heading south ____ the borders know no home to wank her spell and tankards of fuel ___________keep her going at night. Hogshead willow and the bankers talk back, the bakers true. THe rich man and woman slack as detergent know nothing of the real, and the reel to reel colour of the swamp, the marsh, the working dime, the working woman in her prime gazette of feel.

Is she a gazelle in bed?

If so it's due to the weight her bed carries, boarders know this truth best, better than truth serum, is love's kick, its licekty-split dum-dum bell and the dumb waiter draws forth water.

That way it was. It's not as it should have hurried to the riveted sunk of its song, the plinth burying the thing,


and the boat savoring the night, the beauty savoring the equal night.

Deterritories make a pillow for love

Chinese style and the buses are full. Fallow lovers peer trombone wise to the west.