Sunday

She came

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 She came  to believe that 'my'  Fanny was not hers.  Or guess the proportionate weight of spoon versus revivial edge. Not old bum Cleopatra's boot, not feedless yowling to heaven bashed moon. Nor god on his throne taking a peak,a  leak,a crap to creation's solemn groat.....  Not her ass! her fanny field wore the etymological fiscal plate of love's guess _______________Her house made a woods had a get outta  here anytime claws! No pause to this fortune of begriffs and heaves the Hegelian wrong.  There was a thousand fannies to her every diversification. Along the running girl of edge and how could any be recalled .

This granule of sweet.   ~

If some how the pottage bartered wings? O soullless gesso! What gryphon are ye? Hair on yer head  standing at the bottom of the ladder.


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Tuesday

Jiill's birth

Jill 's couvade was redirected non directed thought. A cherry blossom on the celerity of






































And you gotta wonder does she got any more tales to?












Tails hold the harbinger of night.... and ~ over the rise and the top of ~ . We're not fooled by highrise


gimmicks but the working class pays expensive ... places.. hydro not necessarily included.. she means intruded...   we're not persuaded by monomania either.. nor the druginduced hopes of stupefaction and superfetation and the classic form of hubris, spleen, savant, bilious, ridiculous melancholy of the saturnine mood.. hie! me hie! me then you soldats of the quick spasm and the gym work-out...




                    nothing worse than a forced birthday   'maunder'...



Sunday

ah said Frannyto her one night. We need to shoot the ducks once and for all and stop all this .. then Jill saith where is my daughter?






She's sibylline. Lion care for her toe feet . paused on the gesso. Griffon to her body talk rubbing elbows with the Queen. Discovering the thought that each is prudent to its own device. Donning amice and mantle she's bored with the flute of fire. Not a second too_ nor two one to branching spoon___ cocoon soon remaining to her fun ____ her FUN!? You sue the air and certainly lucid stand transformed by its care.




Each cereal bit is reckoned by the weed. If the accounting adds up measures to its seed she's the gainsaid giant's thigh in the park... Over there resting by its column. Come forth Jill! wake up the dead and mighty fled...









Bedecked by loom and azure night. Every night's cackled proceeds with courtesans of the East and pleasure unbound. O A priori Prometheus and his wily baggage of tricks genitive to the sudden seal. If a coyote found its way here it's cause she moved with trails of wheat ~






My daughter ? and my Nomad monad?


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no one



_____________This wont do cocky  Mona, crackled yer peeps!__ its yer narrational mode of break... narrational's better than national's for sure it's pride keeps people back in placed ducked to their deterritorialzied selves...


__________________Antimind! my ass she hearken. A bird flopweed. Dripdrop dripdrop. The maiden cullies the fat change. her skewed a fairy pig for letting mules.


 '...This was no one and  better together ... 'snapping  the wrinkle ... 'hefting crosstalk... y Oona's  veer-eyed knew better than  to prattle ...  A  tryst   pearl soft to the crutch coining a smeary ...overpass  ... lessing sand drift ploughing  tide and beach... caring for what was not and is... if these are nans' sob it's as whomsoever made their plywood stock a leman hiss.'' Oona studded Occam his razor shaped tard . Over a culvert. Lost the patrol. Wandered off. Inside the .

'Is she not  fearing the ton of love's gage?' ___ Correct your volitions my love.  '...does its bonnet pull  bootstraps tapping her handlove's ass, fambles to her gimmaled trip. Love's cleft's  a  girdled wearing

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 And poundstone's  lascivious rock ... the arse's crack  the lane up-bending its infinite cult... these hands are as white as the furling cloud cameoed  the cluttering  ....'


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 She wrote it yesterday hier but she published it now and nevermore its icecream love two tone touch   ~






Friday

Mouthpiece


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Gosoon keep yr head straight. Feathered by mule and hog. If yer together yer not. Booted  into exclaiming   by the  trundling  turtle....a  lyre reared up  its  western airs chapped along the hermetic  sun  pitches and lobs its fairwest pend~.






Tramping country lanes is best. That trombone  ... those wax ears...



                          Full title ahead hidden  Mona's belief.   Bidden by the butterscotch troupe her loving  gambit.

______________ Her feisty magic rabbit hat. Along the habit of love's gaudy.

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