Sunday

hereafter

 Hereafter you are wombcocked my tit bir diving the surface scudding  a l o  n  g the hor i zont al nave in that building round there and the loneliness was much and the owl of the world clutched its claw fair wind to the solo sky

round the square precipice Mona and her Jill becoming book becoming binder tape and glue

the typography states them in the visageing mask of their mutual byre. Not again! Jack cries mussed to their double lioving. O my ears! he cries out murther! murther! its the night of the giving! O this owl creakes in her pause a sparrow gangled for her eeled cowl If she is a gremlin I am a grosbeak! hail then your funny finery punty on the wind thing here whatever it is puttering round the tail end of this skiff ... Rimbaud's hall of fame is not as long as this.. I am the foraged Jack of all maids. Made in Irish. Come along then sure as my follies and the bolly head. Curse ! Peeve! Cuss! my rude busty things. Straps yer gets in want and haunt me down!



Franny rests and renews her plea her cause paaused on the tremendous love of objects.

Saturday

Guest palaver

Gimp foot you've tailed alongthis trawl times over plenty. Barking your bark up the spoof reading bickering wards the crying thing tumbled from its cutty backroom. brawls and fenfooted we've had enough of this terse guess.



For each guest has rested her bed in her head in this soft christ of its moorings beckoned by the rude awakening o f it s calling folly.


Jill rings on a ten cent phone.  A crystal queen to her palace of mirrors and flustering clods.


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.

Thursday

fist and



Fist and clover.

Tough guy. First aid for the bloody rump of his cheese! Your panjandrum is ! the night's fan. Its jewel and series. The mouth last, totem clinking feet. Tram. Bet wore semiosis and delire calm tracks of the putte the cadet wore. He kissed him holding his chest clapped around his chest from behind the kissed man and lover.



Not varmints and vampire but the time of day. Collecting your fee.



Wednesday

To rest




Of the middle ranking there's none. Over close to summer's bet the trim tribes go weekly To the fine feathered gorse. Plained over hill they see the bunched meadowland. Not a thing to say but pillage its common abundance.



Resting and repose are not necessary at this twitch of the air's muscle.Its calmed their fear, and she's rough breeze by the sigh of the piece.Not a narrow ridgeway or crosspiece to counting but food for everyone and the lairs of fox.



Mona's varnished her tools and buttonecd up
her boots,
her belt's undone and the marrying mothers come
militan in their weaving folk

an astral sign for the rainbow.



Tuesday

fallin g out

Fall out men! cry the captains . Guzzled by roam and storm windows. Gantried pavements and gabled cocks, apses leading somewhat . Not, no no no. Come over she fingers the lace stuffing. Its a dummy not a ventriloquist your after to finding. With your willowy feet and fat eyes rolling your fine sex manhood on my widow's quim.


I love your beckoned peak riding me astride the widow's hair. She's sexed his name up the side of flanking thighs cried his name. A detail to rummage his body as they love . In the fat cloud's window and the moxy bed mirrored by hair pieces and armories this is the date they're after to disconcerting with their frilled suckling.

Monday

hunter

Homeless hussy on the heath bending the feather lacing the canoe guts  going downstream there's a hooker out along the cove face clipping along she is hefting waves and pushing heights we're tacking in her wake bullocks to her gore groaning sighs. On the moyle of her reft.




Jill arrives home combing her pleats friggers and benders in her orgiastic moment of self realization. Suddenly chucking it all out the window as the epistemology falls down the damn stories And bang down the stairs go the 'old ways' and the terminal blues.

Something of that kind adds up. She weares clothes that spare no wrinkle in her defeated skirt of curtain. She holds his cock day and night. Her mouth open to the wingsings of fired from his mouth to her orifice plain view in day. None love it as she do. later thumbing copies of the dead poet's work she's collected vanities and thoughts to rub her thighs on. On! you whore! that's a boat not a street walker! you tramp. Get yer arse back to London. The queen of dubs and punks waitis for her. shes asthmatic to a fault and imperious to the point of being rude. Her irish tongue's wattling the keep and rendering folly useless. She's a narrator sans guilt and plenty of room for more.



Its not political science she's after to finding then, its a lover's sweep in her hands, lound lamentations and the fair host of love's bucket.

Some trinket along those lines my love.

And if you dont get you never will Jacky boy. Her Jill He Jack up and down the agglomeration of self.

Not tender other.
Or tinder wolf.


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





Sunday

chamber


Aloft and hidden its word to care bound feet reminds the antique tale

its far off closure its colour for to mind the hydra | Not a fine fiasco but the leaden moment of its sheer dumbness




Jill 's moving around the fourteenth memoir a plateau out of kilter marries the seconded rough quilt and she's done for with love. A bitter boozing bastard is not her pile.



A kernel second in remanded dates follows the chary memoir of god's only budd'en son.

A signifier for to pull your worries! you old goat!


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

in the day of old







In the day s of old. Renew the fraternity. The band of brothers humming. Not so the meat and fork, the knives sharpened to cut and kill. the ghosts hammer at the door bound for their place on earth.Liminals from the sky riding in on moonbeams . Keeping their terraced smile.




She bears earths on her heart. Her strings pull over gold folding cardboard folding paper. Wished by the hope of a thousand love. Next week they mark time for reentry __ telemetric mode. Not a buddhist fatalist fantasm but the real of the electromagnetic world.



Jill moving into assemblages finding her folly ridden hope the

glitter of clear its road. Opening its presaged vessel the body of her smile ~ .








Saturday

of the becomings





and their rare distance and these other airs that prime. or give way and pull the corner. the coign . not closer but farther clutching its remote. not . no not .that but. other matters. covering the things. with a sure sign of their fallow nature, and the patterning crisp rain. and the valley and inland when puffs of it follow you . not near. again gain ground. Of something like this Jill forecasting her rain. Forecasted rain. Held up the elected figure, not the finger. but the town cry , its village mention. No memory , no, memory.



At this rate there is come to meet again its clear to balance out after you've payed out your ticket, keep the bill the receipt. On the air of receipts we sat and flattered ourselves it'd work. Not soft, but the burr with a shade of fine over the top of its accent.



Jill's writing the memoir of the tornado.

She comes to her apartment finding Franny. In . And
Mona there looking out of the window.

The weather's improved.



Friday

fell

Fell timber in the great oasis Not to the sun or rayon knight hanging roud the table Rereading the world's_you have a mouth. yes I do but it is working no not working its working overtime around contrary pari somethiing and the clavichord and I have to to the store. do I have a store i.o.u.----------------is this the cardboard box? Come along mister King you have a safe place here between her cock and cunt. and the clouding has burst the rain of the I cChing. I have no chronicle to pull off the sendning end of your dick spelling. Spelling wrong is part of the change. Undo the word at each tonic tomtomb. Yes, the sapient space's deconstructed.Yes, we hear that mister SKy----------------------- Jill has her ass on backwards knowing that shake it 's how men are controlled. Shes in the patrol boat waiting over there its after the 8th lecture of the guy with the voice_ about the god is dead thinker. Shes going to ask him about the last glass and first drink, not the second last drink_ beware of religious maniacs.

Mona moves her masturbation machine goes back to reading the Postcard and if she had doubts she was moved to muse at Socrate's Plato.



You rest your cause My Love!


Thursday

the foreigner


------------------ Did you repeat yourself yourself repeating peat to bog its



how to. become. becoming. inbecoming. behovely. how behovely. her becoming . s. was ranked lower than any transcendence. immanence was her mouth. as weed. or bird by river. in glass. or nacreous wings. other there and here .




after the nail. And Mona's fort

So became and went for a coffe. On the St.Lawrence boulevard. Return France return city of land of . And Paris she is home returned breathing at last at last breathing . Last breathing at last city to arrive love lover's house .

Since she turned her to askance glance happilyto her lover look ~.




Wednesday

grime




Mona fears violence. Every step of the path. Her underground shelter's going fast. She's on the way to the city from country to country. Fascist bullets and bullies're everywhere. The lam the lines of escape are frittered....
-- her plan's to invent new ones invisible cant seen escape one and two.. three to go out the door..the line out the window's death's drowing scene.. Birth's lacuna's not what they encourage as the enemy one's dont possess courage's grit... nor love's strong handed body ... gripping and pullin up the half drowned one.. comfort's god's plastic kipped capped their give...

Tuesday

Jill's jug

Jill's head's on her shoulders however she wants to have fun and fuck. That way no one can see her name especially her girlfriend. Not the deterritorialized post of living loving stamps but the wet space of her same.Double lovers. Double head, four arm and leg, she's swung round the vein of Paris' legs. Shes a lover in two parts. Forging then forgoing forgetting her name.


Forgetting means consuming producing recording or something with the speed of thus. Shes faster than speed but late because of it. She's the lover Oooh-la-la getting her ears pierced for the wedding of love's triple. None find a text this deconstructed by love's bitter potty! Mona's a twisted sort of lovey-dovy smooching her gal's lips. See the sea of her round about waist and the legs . If another lover came to find these they'd find nothing not a thing anything to . Not substance or gruel, but the barbarian wheat of her song.


A seduction of this sort takes time. Following along the willow the river the pushed up grass, and the long hair of the meadow's culvert its bed of . She can't lay store up against it nor fight it, shes running low and down and dirty this hot lady and her lancer.


She's the one of last winter, the one of the last winter snows. So don't ask where last winter's snows are. Don't ask, don't .

Monday

to

how to. become. becoming. inbecoming. behovely. how behovely. her becoming . s. was ranked lower than any transcendence. immanence was her mouth. as weed. or bird by river. in glass. or nacreous wings. other there and here .

---------------------none of this is true. its strumpetting. cameo effecting not a becoming roun d the center of your self, but of what of it? shall it hurt her behovely sensing the gradient garden anyhow?




after the nail. And Mona's fort


_______________ She blew an d bleu it blue blew her fort down. she tumble d to it, was danced the veiled theesome of her mouth, of the vegetation gardens dow n south her dhow. and then the dowel of things upcupping the penetrating wood. the saw truth of its harbinger multiple.



Sunday

to sea forlocked sedge

T the sea forlocked sedge: none have heard that have they now the sensitive follies of the overdoers braggarts to the viny glass... O you see that there... it's a charge mildewed with instructions one can imagine! the vanities kept secret there ... this is gotta be a time around the bounce of it.. no the flounce She shouts! Come along then the lecture's at 2pm sharp and to the seconding its rattle we attend... the trade's being given to u s ...

in portraits as 'delicately' strewn as the bare backed bones of the lake .










The lake of the azure you mean... > Jill tarries long enough to know the difference between speed and arrival chuffing her engines along...

Mona's got a book with no one in it...
it varies
plums and plummets the shy limit of candlelight... write out of necessity.. the wrists hangdog ...

Jill's mellow person has every cage... do it or don't shes done gone them got them all .

Period and in a hurry to. She's one to her fine written song...

A naked woman hip assed to the world's toting the cake..


Saturday

bent on fell



How would Jill know a kiln from a fos'cle ? she's dependent on seas for water... watering her girth along the waterways of the route is not half the job nor being bumboy to the commander... the commander of the fleet to goldly come where no other persona's gone after... a little asshole here a tad cock there, a mouth of cunt and dry sand there, as the papersanded asshole gives on the going god ..



She knows the port from stern or is it stem from teeming porpoises or pioneers on land...? is that the arctic icebreaker she's seething in her 'dream' called you.... shes' pronoun to her commonplace name... hat to her sun sempiternal to the cut harvest of love fairs... war trade sypcraft and cunning rerouting of trade bounces across the centimeter of her tongue.. straw hat to her bearing...

her pink tongue's mate ... this way the whiplashes fall and the fluted word comes rousing smoke over the tongue's ledge.. it's commandeering of the navy of the south self.. and the desire trains mystifying the walk.. and the dark waters talk and the pleached forms gaze at the sea hawker and hauling her brawling arms her yowling .. this love cubbed to navy...


Call this the intrude...

Friday

wishes






dishes & wishes the bowl of fruit and lavender . the crazyfish and its longfrist the piece of wood

from the sender of words and things, languages, they taught you taught the winter cold the frozen lie the from the sender of cultures and centers the speller of vowels and and not-vowels of vowing bowing and signs, indoor and out outdoor and in and subway station names, the Sign of Power and its hatred looming hard across its Empire floor glaring its jetbombers up there out of site combing the sky this way the war has gone on an atomic nuclear race conquering its space of time subjecting the subjugating people of the earth the dictators and tyrant from the sender of word rings and word and the sender of hi and bye this wing and this this wing and this and this and this wing and this this




Thursday

these dissolutions

THe world and its weirdos the spiky sponge bag, the heavy harridan and her mace, the knight huffed by the page, the squire ripped at the pate. That's no way to love and springing on the strong the sick of the weak.



The weak the weak are so ugly so pined in the fortune coffineed by their sandwhich and contempt their daily bag.



Not this way the positive cheerful philosopher of the skates and wheels the spinning geese, and the calender of love
.



Wednesday

flush with fold




Over the cape close to the window. O its spare and then burlesque. The coming age is frighteneding of its breath. Bearing its seed rifted by the burlap. Nothing happens with a reason and come to its calico the maid ganders .


But of the saunter and the clad fortune the body's glove is mist and wrangled by fortune's weave, the cleavage promised bliss but tasting tallow met nothing but the air principle dusk
~ Jill's fortune is made telling tea leaves and tawdry crests or orient ballgowns backward tongues treachery to a free T. A sister's gelid revenge is no overwoman for her behaving.


Mona's fraternity is continuing
. She's worked the libidinous sodality
to the ground
hemmed in by skirts and paws.
She won't bend for any rule breaker .


Nor keep her mits in the ground.



Tuesday

this way




This way
and that get rid of I not I no more me_ We are not and a .



We are _ a direct line ________________________________



Shush your little winding sheet Cinderella anchor your thoughts on the blam down boom down they say they say you are the rose that's trained our woe. And who is the I steams putter far off from the window that wolf in disguise as a frog and the world's pain and earthquakes in the country bleeding bells tilling the tolling bleeding forever bedded down with pain and bleeding bleeding island country ever bled down with pain


O country of vengeance and revolt your pain's brought you grief brought you down


again they're frightened of you O country

Jill screamed the crying news
the head in the body under the block pounded... the inexplicable pain of its lying the economy created this quake as
man and nature are one now...

there's a method in the course of things....


Jill's geology is fractured with lanes, hatreds, longings, wished for hopes, a desire to stamp out despicable capitalism's murder of country and people and people and people. This bleeding dry of the living for the dead the wake for the dead at the expense of the living







Monday

Of crushed wheat and barley

Later when the dark went down, She met. She gave a
stone __ she had sucked in her mouth.
She's scripturing her own text. Not semen but falling out on the bird of paradise and her disgust at
real academic machinery the swindle of the few against
the millions





Of these personaefictations there are . one to a hundred. guessing between. its . postage stamp carrying its weight. past anydawn news stand. this is the tropage of love. its hubby-dub umbrella. _________________________ she says bk _________but means Blog

Sunday

and she's

Nobody has a hard time with it. except you. haunt||||||| and she's got the hissy fit O yea. O yea the fascist line to carry its fate in fat gold purchases and the credit lining her asslink. this way fuck's deadink .



Mona moved out apartment. Sound to her creek.

No anybody does better at than her.


She moved around her sexthigh. Carried the limber light in. helding his came to her rupture to her feet ~. Dance to hre tall hooligan to her affairs dance to her tall holly.



Saturday

this tastes





Jill phoning franny it tastes like shit! you understand dont you ? my dear one clear one two one three four and give gizzard one?



Jill hearing words in her sleep (of reason) (the god dancing in the temple Pantheon)
Its cater and cunning the way she moves that ghost. Okay pull back. Jill wont go honey to her lesbian tether.

Friday

O right






It didnt takemuch for J to fall for J for Lady J was and Lady J was a lady T's daughter and unlike her mother was a harbinger of good will and peace and he, bachelor forever becoming, fell and fell and they fell and fell and she before his inquiring eyes looking puzzled asked ... teach...you ... her eyes hold the gaze...? he taught her then the second intensity of love's flame it s scorched fire hip along her thigh and her mother's burning eyes He's the riding winding she's J and his movie eye brillaint burns white . her gleaming white

She came to him in the night climbin' over him...
Now white's not Mona's what's she doing witha white woman on a mountain top?

Snip snap She got hand feet and willow legs bending at the room temperature her body's glowin' gold



Thursday

fleece


_____________________

F
uck this she.Comes in the murder. Act one scene ffor.a regular tart to her bearing. Not a definite job but a pronounced penchant for articles, definite ones at that. Wont be compressed by the deathy hussy she's grander than that. Wont go will we shall we ? Call it mountain topping. Clad with feet and friend past the breath of the father hunting the echo down its parent sleeve stooped to her cunning.


Rushed to the wing a brook hunkering on down.


This is Jill many send from Paris to Fr ance .




Wednesday

free call




Say no more callin is free doctor no fee to press the charge collecting is love's game its gambit boiling the soup conning the letter rubbing the foil
: call free|
Jill's honest broker knows her best boyfriend's filled with cock's desire a mouth here a mouth there front to edging edging to front her mouth and sex filled with lust booty !
joy to its docking!


In bed with one and two she's married to his self. Her cover moth kiss wanks the pulling over. She's breast to breast with her half self. lover to her fuck.


_______________________
Geologies decide loves not loves.


_______________________
Mona renews her plaint her brief her... we wont say her secret ~

Tuesday

carnal



Bitch face and the virgin whore gives birth. her bloody ass marked the soiled turf. Look at this shitbox hotel.She's fucked over the sideways face by the crummy angel of god. Shit to her cunt godbirth.


Mona has to escapade all that. Her winding is tripping wires fellowing not following other path.

Monday

return of sender

The fair heat is not .. not the same as ... o miss repress your fun time house. mad as a caper... not the way of the dirty dozen... try your horn blow at that...

A decade of two in the heap of murmur canals her hope ...



_________________________ Jill sees not the same is not even remotely similar a difference for her earrings is her hand.




_______________________ When comehome alone Mona gets in shes shagging off already. horny as a bastard. what does that mena? a basarrtd? an illegal fuck.
__________________Mona clambers to the lict and liciting of her trade. wasshes her cuntflower of the decayrubbers.

Shit was begad bad tonight. She's not the knight of whores either. Dont be kidding yourself lustrous one.



She's keeping time with the foxy ~ .






Sunday

gold

Jill's formula goes as follows. In the Forum they burn oil sink thousands. and bisexualbivouacs virgins burn by thousands. The harp imperial imbecile finds his mother incestuous harlot to the fuck god replacing the old Athenian whore PALLAS AThena bitch gray hoary eyeball 'goddess' of war. Bitch head shes got the guts of . Plenty on her UYlyssean fork. Her . Kali ass not better by much. O and the giant killer the gag master comes along fat footed in his f_16 is that shit box word they name it? its the language of . Of what murderous foul is that? heads to crap lost intelligence. spear to cut its balls, and cup the blood for the mud.

Julius is a gutless imperial dog shit.

Jill's got his number. He takes two to four. Gets him past the crap he pretends form Cicero and the stocic _______________ Idiot that's not him!
its Mona!
Mud head!

Glacier of the gods!


_____ Get that nut her meds. She s of f the spoon again the addict in every cheapshot shizo bitch. Locked ward . Bang the door Slam! shut!

Saturday

parallel


Ward eugenics. Room for 4 four. Fuckups. Shit rag of tenebrae eternal embryoyo of cut. Electronic baby bear. Cut the . In there the pimp of ministers costing their gaggle order.


Okay delusion for one.

Okay delusion for the unsaid . you usual asstide. Franny calls her gibbon wolf like dog to its deathwish.



What the hell is this picaresque stereotype of the tropical folly?
our words are crushed repressed leaves

we''l bag
them
back
she takes his cock way up her Mouth
down to
South
to the
finding

leaf ~








Friday

before





these baskets. these . and the bastards and the sign. wont let her be. she's the . no t a signal but a pirate fool ish to he ~ r. Mona's winks on the high merry sound the . the bastards wont let her go. the death one. she's the breath one. so they do her in bit by bit . oh yea she's left her piles high with fortune's fate and fame on it. no is yes.