Tuesday

yea yea

the nights of wisdom yea yea yea year by year the toll the rolling dog of bay and breath its sheer fright rouh to ten edge of toil
some have heard its keen ledge not frighted by day.

the wisdom of prism and dice. or kept princes. not puffed up day. or piffle in mouth over blowing overward the orchard of carrying on benders. Jill hunker inthe wind. Mona trailin` geese near by a petition of lithe. Hands to keep her lover. Not staired by weir and other pacing beasted demon come to her him in the middle of night. Breath. Ah, this, this , her , lover. Indeed.

What begat Jill to hunt her theory of the freed babe by the loss of lust its eye wind along the turned banister of its evocation spent and confectionary as any museum soldier. Not wished by boot and prayer, or bot and bitpiece. not Some flood of Tamburlaine over buggering war its enemy smashed city killing soldats. Their doldrum the deadending the death of others always, hard voice, roupy thought. Its caught death in ruby wake up twilight.

Not of the gods, and other things, but other things.