Saturday

... in winter...

____________________O the spring came in winter .


This way its pears. Not peach. Or risky high flute notes. And inside her lover bunkbed there are three, not merely two.





Two is snoring, and she cant abide snoring! Lordy knows snoring brought down Caesar and her minions. She won't have a Caesar fit, its enough with casuras median medial and otherwise. She's gifted to the apocalypse but not slums.


Any girl knows this, even women. All the dresses in Turkey wont change that, will it now, you wicked thing. Shes backed off to bottom and booted the ranky wind to the sky. the sky is a boring tenement at times, but its better paid rent than none. This way she can make love with the two, she loves. They are two they are one they are three, and with this number of lips, no one ever goes with out.
Its schizoanalysis scissors with a vengeance! Of love. And pas de resentiment .




Friday

29

that became


Concetto
conceit______________________ EXTEnded MetapHOr manner Ism. She had manner galore. She liked to the way. its the double dare love. Lust by rave and night. O come all ye faithful. I am hussy to the softprayer. Come to your splay.
repeat a
fter
He
r
vers
toward your body round as naked. Come to its sweat. Its wheat. or corralled horses. Shes wild as stallion. Stage coach, wild dance girl.
petending a poet

what became

Beauty what happend to 29?
Well, you see its a symbolical number. And we keep mum about these american hustlers. stumbled over the slavynavies. and twenty nine being the magic nuMber Mona is wary of her

face coming across the table. She's worn the magic bullet long enough. She's not hungry for men that 'long' enough, and she's paid off her ticket, to the Buster of griping and gew-gaws. She's

not the grim and fattened reaper, she's better than that. Shes not. She combinatory not paranoid toryreterried.


Was she absent?

Hardly dear .

She's been in paris with her lover Hector, . O hector, what the heck.
Why dont you see so before the time off. well, we cant predict these buttoking asslickers!
___________________________

behind the scene

behind the scene

_________________________
then, said Jill passing it along along to the suite of textand||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|||||||||||||||||||||||||behind the seens of her hair and parting to the back.
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||o insane .


you forage exptency. not really Jill's shivering. Her shivering is auspicious, like a bridal suite, a gown,a train to silver and rend to rend rend rend rent a suit! A man for to fornicate! Focreate! Fauxcreative yer ambleswitch.

___________________________________ Jill is not homeless, shes merely orphaned. Its bestter thataway Buster. Okay, her jaw line is firmer than the capitalist wedding, yes, Well, Learn your living! you flutterbug! Subjectivity is produced and paid for in the communist desire box of . Yes, well, seal thy scotch tape lips.



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




Wednesday

petending a poet

In a different mood, or really mode this this cld. simply mean:

Conceit. dig?

HUnky

Shes's near naked. What? You thing! empty lake is that? she 's hid in the bullrush. its a god borne there as blankets. by the glanced eye of her hijab. call . and then t'was spinning backyard perishing the wakinng tongue. nymph on fire, and her wood. blocked unlocked to . her veil sundered the cracked . non, the side?she's hurry wish feet beated down the 'native' rock. Thought dismember'd this smoking hush.




___________________Mona and the gang. Three say, and around . O . Okay there three. The holy trinity of theism, deism and supernatural cat piss! stretching your nape Toulouse and then the nigh road the cars are animals. Remainder your kind charity. Downtown splayed feet, schizoreneo call girl. Beck and fall. Stoking the womb furnace. its three heads, how many arms that add to? its a whisper. cinammon around the hull. The | I cant remember. the listing . Of its arms round her neck. Flush with boulevards and victory we failed. None have discussed this.

Monday

Wagon Wheel

Nothing pleases more than that! it's gotta be a square dane! you tarnation fool!



She quotes herselves in the fourth persons this way the stop sign's vivid.

_________________________
then, said Jill passing it along along to the suite of textand poems._______________________Is that it to know longing for what you can't haveknowing it's far further thestory of the strong one long awayhungering for her lipsthe shadow of the sidenarrows its breadthHow you yearn long shored to negative selfno one therethe space betweenwhere nowhere walks between?Sometime I longedpassionate prayerdom to failure and treacheryfrozen a phoneconnection click-click-clickaround the bodies trapped behind spaceO yes, some say take a train, a planecause 'my baby longed for me without saying'and I was hungrier, colder lousier than the nightor 'my baby she wrote me a letter' your letters stripped across spacesure tricked me, deceived like any mother wouldthe inevitable table of evilcountries, borders ,"



"

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.


_______________________


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.


_____________






Saturday

Come along camp

Tuesday's true solitude gives her a boner. it's come along camp for all the flitters. Indeed, mouths galore pant about fumbling seals jigsaws up their arse. Mona held her ground, even if it fell through to the ground of all being or some other German nonsense like that. Like that shes gotta grip on things, never mind the things of design. Signs of her head, she parries up the feet.

Friday

back




Back to work, cut the mammy-jamming you swine! winsome knights over the bilge. with ya yarning thing. what tyrant tries your patois overkill is the ruin of father and their hybrid status. Heavens to Betsy! you punked out flinger. Sorting geologic mist in the anviled strata.... cough she coughforcough forcough's sake. A dog in the manger'd do better than your slattern keening and howling.

Jill likes to splash it on: say she was writing under the table, the logic of camera and film, well Gary Cooper couldn't do better to illustrate the bending eye of cinema close up cut and dissolve .... shite! my mighties what blindy-eyed gas are you yapping about now?Have with me will ya?

You jester Queen. Sob of the Four in quietus and bodkin paved bookmakings.... so we shall see the end of start in the flat space of your travail...

Mona dont care for such botheration her succinct self is the arrival of time and its bucking calf.


___________________
She comes to school donning petals hairnet pulled down past her eyeballs,
this way she's hot to horn in the bullies.
Lovers streak her past.
Nothing lasts 'cept lasting you'll see she warns.




Back to Paris: and the old man'shacking the substance of trysts and takes the gloves off as it comes to the vacuous cavern. That all men've stopped. Care and worn, and philosophy in the garret. And I don't refer to Pat Garrett. Billy's the satyr rider, and she don't need no kid to gallop hell-bound for leather either.

So shush and love and lovings.








Thursday

in this way





In this way sobriety burns a fire of love. Shaman to the deluxe desire of its spare parts. Knocking on the wood knocking back.
Trampin' the lane. She's eversent her mackerel soup. Does this bet its name on foreign aspects? Its return is news as the cycle winds up. And the roup breath .... Mona resting her case. Her valise set down on yearn day and conviction is the fostering lair and fun work.



Strife dear girl, is the name of the gamut. O adversity as the fair grounds fill, andthe hurly burly ones stamp their heels. Or heels are bending in shapes no one's hearing.


JIl ode and does

Jill does the dance of th e seven odes. Which means it's time for soup.Cosmic soup as it ladles its washing hay down the throat ofthe universe. Nothing will stop it_ neither bird plane nor superman, overman, overwoman, ___ overbecomers all and one. One? Nay two and tree and round the tree wheel they turn __ bucking crime and spending tickets to nirvana!____________________ a ticket in any case, to an Event____ become its rhythm speed. The race to course its brilliant banana peel that is the love the peeping show desire's busted cocoon wombcacoomcomb__________ One should and does add bandanna ooh lala coo coo . As a pigeon to a wharf_________________

This way love's scene and obscene its crested fallen baboon? Is she a baboon that feminised and genderized the whirled? is t whirled my irish baleen?||||| Mona skitters you cant spell
(perhaps god then is a femine air-plane of inconsistency flued in her maternal glue __)
Mister OrpHographEE.
KIss My rear ass preferred mode of recape! Cape my ass on a chewing block! I have seen the Acheron and know ghost butts are frilly but real________and rill to reel she's yanked in the Platonic stock.

Tuesday

Glow in the rose




Jill knows stardust and hamstrung Indians. Rare is the primoridal stuff she's not got her hands in. It beefs up her strings, marinates her bust and refers her to higher 'things' . Things, yes, the things the ring of venus, the ring of fat saturn

the thing... is
... thing is she's not married but a lady in waiting her 'favours' besotted and stowed on cabin boys and merry men. A rose that working girls understand. It's hipper than any constraint beyond blame.

Monday

hurling





Hurling it spin. Hurl bin hurtling it's not curling. Winsome as the cow. And its brand. The Irish famine faces scanned with the letter C . So it went. Whence the name of famish, and perish. And the boat, take the Lusitania. Grandfather's brother turning back to Derry Dublin after the boat sank. Four chimney steamer, torpedoed on the high sea, German submarine. That was merely the start of . yes, it's not ambition that keeps men greedy hatred its what keep'em going . after the dead are buried, the living bury. Your stomach is not like that, the secret admirer.



Among the many these are the rooms that . And that

that


||||||||||||||||||||||


This way all seizures are bent to Mona's darling love.


__________________


.

Just who and who just ....





Just who and who do you think she was, cambers along. A galley filled with slaves. Jarveys too. O cookies to eat the rotted stale ___________not even stale bread! Shhhhhhh you funky dowhatyoulike dumbell, the elevator's over here. Come along plateau 45 its mermaid time in the memory convex.

Mere copy to her strangled thing. Evermore echo to its capture. Dastardly its a dashing era of porcupine pens. Say the pulp of jingoism. Some were known to don dreses at the hour of love. And others after the cafe, and the daddio spoke hours long about the passive synthesis held the professor esteemed above all rare and realest of creatures.





accent

In that accent Mona heard ... she herd a cow. Then Krishna at the hospice. Or cowries. Buddha bowing bronco busters, and Angie at the dance, sucking my tongue. Two lovers in one dance hall. Benares and the plate of Love. The Buddha and the Budapest song, what is forbidden verboten. In Paris, in the late fall of 73, she heard then running took a leap acorn across the coffin of Europe. Of we come to India. Yes, siree, it was very free, and gnostic. Took. She call Lady Eleanor a whoremaster sapphic sister, ironing her shirt. How to make a buck a day in chandala land.



Dude says to her I ama temple hooker, I got the book and degree and the hookah if you got the time. Found the piece of gold left her wringing hands over the Tibetan ice snows. Headed to Afghantistan that year, for carpet and hats. You know the kind she say. Plateau 1973.
accented to the future


MOna's made candies for all parisians and in Toulouse she was a slut cambering th e hips of schizomogeneis and the flat hill of immanent slayer of dragons and bear meat.

Met he master there.

Sunday

Just who



Just who is Franny's daughter. The daughter without a veil, without a season, a reason or a rich for gathering. For fathering . For rickshaws at sunset in the China boulevard. Does that seduce the asignifying moment of its synthetic cut, its rubaffair with the reflective cafe .... dangling the body, the danger of bodies. Kissing their roof. Husking their vein, ____________________ Go (to) the bathroom for Kriss(t)'s sake! Forcoughforcough in vain! I love thee ~ ~

Saturday

hush



Hush you're thousandth reaching. Her mouth on the . And that. So it come. No, it day. Yes, it day. Not . Other.And sampled ___ the secret bleeds quarrels obsessions Mona hobnailed hovers by the Exposition . Along the boardwalk she's monopoly to her seven drum. Her drums tap feet cluttering the maximum weight of the song.


Close to explosion she's meditating on the pool and its backyard sun. Come again , she boards the boat, readying herself for the truncheons the trough of rough down and hurled uP funked to the sea its anvil thrust

This pour



We're arriving at time past. Our width's broad pushing the veil... and so it working... O we don't know yet, because it's not over... she said to me. I was standing at the Wall, the great one, not the nausea one of the monstrous fellowship....



__________________O when does death .... end? Or sting its shepherded and the ball bearing hole... no the deterritorialized does not just disappear... we want it to be over... but she's not ... it's race against the buttin..


but its the simultaneousness of the things... the world's cut in circle and strata ... a chunk here its there a Roman centurion ... beside the Empire state building. but a state goes crazy revenging its past ...a piss off from the damp dump.. and in the city of the past our damages are coming....

She heaves the .,.. thing forward...


______________ It won't break... time to feel it over... it come again and never it left we .... O we wont' hold the stage coach carrying its cargoe further..

Or materialize in the room....



Friday

think of the love....




Think of the lovers she's had. Their blinking trust and pairing need. One three five.

As her body got older she gypped every purchase on her song. Call that getting along, v.c.r. tremendous tenderness, Isabelle the waitress pining for the baby.In swaddling clothes and the plain ugly one holding out. For her imaginary stuff, her filtered song of cup and breed.




Mona rallies her tent and need heading back to the cave. It's shadow ridden world the irate air crackled with forget me not and weeds. She won't wrap a leaf round her head. Nor stoop to homely ladies. Plain-janes and downright ugly pluck ups. She's not that type. Of slut to bother her immanence with plain songs of transcendence.


It'd revolt her tears, revulse her peepers . Her sodden stomach no matter how it'd be girded wouldn't take the agony.



In the vacant vacuole the cave, the rowers plow and ply plough the cockamamie water . Oh you mean those double you see things? She's heart to hearing this sort of chop block chip of the old chopsuey. It won't do. Will it?


She's not Laertes to her hoofing heel, nor Thebes to her narrator's threaded tale.

She's not on the take, there'll be more . More to come and say.


____________________ it's not a surety but a guarantee she'll play to the end.






yet she was christing

Mona found a long lost note written by her Daddy. To her, and heralone. She knew Jill was her mother father. Her Fama Her fatima. HerFamamamatima. And she was Christ Deleuze of the thousand stories andstrobes.She openedher notebook one night and there was the note translatedin golden glittering letters. Something her mamapapa had left heras a legacy. How to Understand the thinkers!!! Mister Jean Fafafafa Lyotard called childhood' this movement that sweeps away language and traces an always greasy repressed limit of language to wit my very own dears : Infatia what does not speak to itself. A childhood is not a period of life and does not pass on. It haunts discourse...What does not allow itself to be written, in writing, perhaps calls forth a reader who no longer knows how to read, or not yet.... See__ See And Hear the bold word of something something belittled truth between .

So MIster Lickotardy writes . And she rewrites it to her own hymn . Mister Proust he gone home. Childhood beckons its bricken. O witchs and staves! We tire of those blocs and booms and catholic canes.

So Mona always find a place between thinkers where her selves the word grievers strode the way. And so it was . And she was. and so was theDada Christ Deleuze with Jean-Francois and their divagations and ....This little quote may be found in the beautifully translated Critical clinical essais ___________


B___________________ yes indeed she was word to match her pride of lion. Her pdf in black and white like any camera maid.


But t really it was her chilhood, her infatiawhich enchanted enraptured. So she became a lover to the lovers . And Mona knew these words translated through the byways of scrollsunravelled in time space over space times cyber word were her DaddyDeleuze's last words to her. Then her Dada, said, she said, her dada saidher Maman said, I ain't got no Mama Papa. Well she aint got this and she aint got that she saint to boot her rhyming pairs of yelling to timber the greeks come tumbling down Yellow. That Yangtze river and pride.


Thursday

hear and hearing



"
Jill hears it . The hears what? Does she call, the name" yes but what she is speaking of is not the ear drum. Nor the feet of primal philosophy or its rubbing tune. Or the chune of gyre and pavement but the love of the fat thing itself, a pudding and drawer containing all the awkward pelting o f a life and more. She winks towering toward her future cutting off the spring of squirrels and rabbit hocks.

Say she takes off from the meeting . Another woman is there. she's become the church of every rummage pail.

And then she felt like an au-pair girl, a drumming dumbbeat maid.

Now if that is the thing, or rather if that is what the whore queen calls
getting back to the matriarchal thing,

she's got another thing coming.
The old bitch! the hazard of grunions and reunions. That reek busted
the pennisula. Well, it takes one to know one,
and besides she knows this.

It's part of her calibre, what the myth makes
makes her strong,
weary

no.
Not at all, that's paltry
besides shes's bested her girth
trunnioned the axle
and married her trunk to lovers pass by.



IN that tears idle as they are can't make a product go bonkers. She's fisted the sky and hopped for rain in her Hindu Indian down dress.

This cartwheel gal knows better than to spin with her top on backwards for all the rain to see
.


__________________________________

If this has been prose she's removed the salt from bacon . Not so the seaway its moose and ragtime stars, or the antlers busting up a grief a pen of men
holding her down . She's bodiless to their fortitude .










Wednesday

This





THis way you're fallen flagged love. Missived to its ported fess. les fesses ah oui tu parle beaucoup sur des fesssed et alors?


She comes around the counter. It's worth the air the moment . Of her masturbation. The narcissitic complex's hardest to let , to lever and come to. Come to? yes, come to as if consciousness had 'fled.' Your eyes are dim and I am dull witted to your .... get that I quick! its unlawful!
what I is grand?

What is lawful? Kick it off the boat, its got no place in this dialogue Theaetetus . Lifting her dress she punch him. Muffed to her miff she's holding his head mid air to her love. A dog to sweet thing and love's baker.


Someone



Someone constructed matter not you Mona. Or the wish of the bell hopping philosopher king. And his ambulants, nor their desire. To wish and wish, its fictioning long home down, traveling 10,000 miles .



Of the meadow and the funked out liver, the spanked wheat, its darling chop


Mona knows she's coming black rested by the tune of white an d its somber ease.

________________________________


Call it charisma Mister devenir ~ .



________________



Tuesday

becomings

The becomings lie of_- we wont mention -of what . its cantankerous shite ramming the big and little lie along the lace of your parchment skin, the death of your quill and the start of your frying pen pan.


each day is rain , like the becomigns of night. the fever gives long airs, and sudden .

Then we switch focused on the south. Our harbingers've made mighty snows.


Desire is like a machine, the eye of the swallow is the sand of the swan. its helpful merit preening the riverbed. These merits were won and worn. Down the medal of its passing giver. Not a soldier but a footnote

Monday



Every sign is one of work. Not volume or fluted vines, or balustrades, or or the things. something anyhow, or synonymous to being. Ruddering its way back to the wheel.



If this pleases here, sun it. If it does then go for the hour of its inescapable folly. Narrated by knowing fools, we wink high heeled in the dark and burly avenue.


Crossing recrossing recognizing it's reckon spur spoon song. Why does the rill of s' crowd further its tangent?


A goddess wanted to be brilliant. She wore tawdry clothes to make her point, then for years, she could not make it back. Home as she would have liked to wished to wanted to , well guess you know the rest of that sort of sentencing.



She paddled in.
Nearly dawn
dusk had broken
buskin
bore
her.

No , No it's not like that.

As her body its

its colour

parade

somebody somber
listened u
cursed its faith
swore
by the raven-hunted thing.

Some named it.
What named it and how, beside that bed of apocalypse
what was there?


__________________



To your hunky

Yr hunky paranoia on the bus was a stranger's leftwing. its a pity Jill didnt know Jona.


Hugger mugger to your gypsy this way we can ring the noggin. Pretend its alphabet wonder its coup de grace round many ministers.


________________ say milliner and in the subway godlike halfbeings. two headed, four hipped elephant rammers. and this , this what comes after the poor storm of rain and its hudson like lakes.


Sunday

Gem

Did you hunger for that word? Geometry and it pulled the stem ___ Gem. word again. prospered my mozart like Haydn




Time came for a poet to say the same.

slut of immanence


___________so love's the immanence of your thought the her and nowness of your love



not just some gear-box you are getting for Christmas, but her body versus yer loneliness.


So is the supreme silence of your eyes

the simple harmonium of



the night bed like a willow weaver not that damn transcendent sign you are so
obssessed by. Not the case of the 'why does desire desire its own repression?' but, the question does Immanence desire its own behalf? does it wish its hiddenAway becomings?

Or is that just your hand?




Onan?

the air is cerulean

not just some gear-box you are getting for Christmas, but her body versus ___________________________________ Let's say the flat space.


So is the supreme silence of your eyes

the simple harmonium
______________________ the becoming man of woman the becoming woman of of of woman
of these spider web. these cloths. and our these keeping time.

the night willow .
the night bed like a willow weaver not that damn transcendent sign you are so
obssessed by. Not the case of the 'why does desire desire its own repression?' but, the question does Immanence desire its own behalf? does it wish its hiddenAway becomings?

Or is that just your hand?



over the past like its like and so and these overcome. not I have overcome but a pile a speed a room catapulting through space.

Saturday

a hut

Wh


at would a new hut? a rhythm perjuring night


_______________________ Jill wants to jump. Over the desert. Where the syrian foxes go. And the eagles? what becomes of them? do they heard the drone and dare its .... ? yes, you tell me Mister Schizorenic


Now Jill's retired her yes, she has and she's not sure quicksand doesn't capture her imagination. Or folly.




Sunday

Come


Come and my

and homunculi,
(So is Felix happy depressed or depressed happy? Does she hold Mona around her desire, for drapery? O Cooper saying, yes, we gotta get rid of dreams! O Stella! what dream of your body. Not stellar, or strata , but the lilliputian ramble of our molecule kiss.)


And then

and wizard



but first her shifting


_______________________

Find a period mouth.

The strange level and leverage . A levee. yes, she was.


______________________