Friday

Jackknife


Jill's jacktation is the thrust of . Stratafictations. Eon of bus and tingle of ferret? Is the way the double joint goes? Along the track of merry some which of eat its billing pulled to it. Come back. Bibliotheque Nationale. By the banks of the Seine I sat down. Along the grinding ... frabjous diaphanous and dainty raises her ass. Twisting bending it.


She's rearward round the channel. None catch her drift. Cache to her sodality _ her clandestine  ... river? it's tundra the unconscious laughter of her self   ~ Joy on the two  ~ 


_____________The first time being and nothingness and the gods yes, the goddesses too laughed their heads off dying from it. The nerve and calumny of the idea of the one god staking and demanding its above other godness.

 Professor D quoted and over the mountain___ Athena Jill jerked off the left wing of patois murdering the self individuated clown   ~. She's done two and three and now she 's her along the river of pelf  ~ seek the error lover that's where youone find the real  ~.




Wednesday

in the autumn fall

______________


In the nefarious days of  Paris__ 1994 _  working the street avenue of the learned boulevards
 Jill wrote an epitaph a forum a song a throne of thing and feel. Not wishing for the past rudiment her blessing piled high the russet tussle of   lips
 
as it went so it did   ~:



  Fanny her self the griever. His KNight was a pair of ropes  in the love horn
way of womean and other becomings. Who was who in this world of ebb 
becoming?  the reflection which cast all darkness down__ Jill had
been away  so long and, there was no night left,  for the translator of
spills and light. Other animals  crept along the predatory route  
desire and desire’s heels. Couple to couple, safe house to safe in the
big city that is the way it went.

If fictions hold your song then Franny must belong.
Ruins are not are comedic. power grabs hustling you along the verb.
Capsized by fakes, voyeurs, two bit timers, and governments
sans song . O this word remembers a prince picking his bones
in the wheat.
She wears his throne like any handy ring. Wedded to his intent.
Garnered by his pleasure, waits and weep







Disappearing up the tunnel of discontent
and its civilizations, its telnet fractures of post human trauma. 





 What could she do but see her way past the forest?

____________________

Monday

the in_narrator of these blogs.. fictations ~

 in Plateau : 48_________________________________________

On 4 September 2010 13:05, Clifford Duffy  the narrator of these blogs  wrote:
As the paranoid police of your body. their body. it's a capture  mode. rangy as the sudden dust of  ~ nervous   ~ rare kind




the tangy taste o fher   ~

What headache is that? her rhizome thighs. Blue as night blue as knight's garter belt blue as night's garrett. Lie under these blankets lover one.


Jill running the whole world . Did she
 
grow that way, a leaning tree leering winding world tumbling   ~ 





--_______________________You have captured the fiction to come  ~.
Posted By Clifford Duffy to Fictions 4 on 5/17/2010 10:00:00 AM