Skip to main content

How You Might Use

Why hasn’t the town filtered thru other spaces?


Worms of this edition seemed sparked by dubiety.


A Klingon sang on the front step.


Pitch black resembled the last inception of the dimple. We lived in an environment of change and vacuum, one after the other. Which one was first?


The town wrote decrees into bedrock, just like satisfaction.


The endeavourer of our time swats at whisked fences.


A tension occurs within the preamble, which startles the audience.


The hills of the town suffice, in an odd policy way.


The pulse of grey skies fills intention.


Our triumphs are townwide, our failures fettered close.


Another Klingon sat on the front steps to say, Stay.


Prisons resume economically.


All Klingons forcefeed traditional implementation of ideological crack.


Clerical errors remain in the document, a triumph of human endeavour.


The nation feeds of fealty.


Whippets flock to snowstorms like instruments of change.


Orogeny takes time, “they say”.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Words

  From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.

Adam Sandler Has Totally Lost It. Okay?

The greatest popular person in the world died today. Repeat: this person was young, with exceptionally pleasant features forced of radial tires. Each star in the empyrean sighed for lack of this locus of popularity. Humdrum took on new meaning, but meaning did not. Meaning is a wave of popularity toward the sigh of exceptional stars. These stars are good-looking reminders of all that is possible, tho distant from any address. Tears flowed to the heart of the Milky Way, because the popular person stood tall and well-dressed, like sentimental eagles drinking Bud Light while evoking timeless mythic pediments. The greatest of popular signs grew milky with waves of stars over easy oceans of just plain folk stalking the best. We remain ardent, tho the popular person can no longer contribute. We have to look in magazines again, for the source and severing. Levers used for leverage feel average. Again the popular trout, the popular doorknob, the popular brand of sweetened, flavoured, f...

Today's Widespread Panic Concert, Sans Banjo

The banjo is dead. Those included in banjo are dead. Inclusion is dead. Death is dead banjo dead. Its banjo is dead. The name of its death is dead. Name is dead. Its political act is dead. It sound like banjo but dead. It no time to be banjo. You must remain a rope with language and dulcimer. Only dulcimer live. All banjo dead. You are banjo, Donald Trump. Hurry up Donald dead,  untimely to dead still dead like words. You and banjo both. You is dead and you too.