Friday

fair

Franny had not heard Mona in epochs to go. Jack was a lonesome cowboy assemgblage with his cabbage. And cabs dont do the trickery. Her self his the grief self grievers .. not a knight and two but a whore'd hooker coming into the headland. that boat, there, by the Lord Christ of chiaroscured demons!


THe becomings ways of women the ebb break cuppin their fingers kindness at the subway and the underground living room of Orpheus the pen. Minstrel plucked by bagpipes and hagiographies of love.

In the biggest city of fat and slim skinny and short the circuit was word spoken by its gilded throgh thought, the shell gimping beside the boat's tap.

A set of coach boots, and her panties, his legs freaking out and the bodies piston churn? Not so saith Jill's hood. She's winked to the total glimpse of the cathedral in her midst.


Jiill moves away from the birds and they are worild wide things, auras of desire. Paired by the columning legs.
________________________When Jill's in Dublin she hears from that other old student of Deleuze daddio dig the immance singnifieds... its about light and clouds getting a leg up on the burnt sienna of Romanesque art. she fine tunes the pipes pulls her ribs in come closer . Closer Cabinent.
hat is the way it went in the Big bed. the three of them reading express . To win Hearts . To Pine.