Sunday

round there







____________________ Take these back!~ go home geology! yer full of hotbrown rice!

Take these and those lover. Let the castle wall finger its battlement. Lachine canal and the boardwalk sunlight that's feigning rivalry. And if it's the day its hurt all night. Come again the round speak-easy, and inside a pork-pie hat there's lot of room for Mister Descartes. Plenty of space for vanity.



(too humdrum for baking __ giggling Mona)





The cards are turned up, aces catch, the faucets laugh, and the imbibed inhibition hollers, snickers. Sneakers carry you far along the boast, and side by side with other riders you chair its wind light. Woodward it knows the tune, the ground. (Hmm kiss me twice you kippy thing! Yr a sweet one~!)

In 'those days' she was merry like a fin fish, or was it a chair on the terrace, Cafe Flore, 1974, the second year lectures and travel.


Won't you crush the rock? Penumbra, twisting leave, vineyard and orchards, packed with apples tearing at the wind, tarnished with lovers.


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Jill's got her nose out of joint, had her noise of joint. Come along you fairy! get your arse together . Pull yr weight kick those canals and dead windpipes.


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