Saturday, December 19, 2009

Parked Beside the Ocean in West Virginia

West Virginia with a wind nettled by nitrogen caused crying in little bays. Our people all called on, and later on. The drift of trees with all enclosure asserts the breathtaking and come back. Stains are prose dependents of the moment. Even as we meet we tend to bending winds and which of the rivers overflowing. That wild Walt Whitman whipped slaves with his cultural tag, but dash with the symptoms. We asked a lot of him. Still, the nerve of West Virginia starts a revolving nature. It started a hind as it was loose in the gloom of green. The mines were political mayhem in gross venue. We took that test as provocation. Now, seasons are startling. A coast of music makes us. We effort the strands of capture wood. A mountain blows up, skirl of bagpipe oxygen. And wet nurse the factotum, little wonder ball in. Square flatness plucks banjo remains. Adjacency ropes the winded monarch, and Boston is the west part of the final east. No ease but bugging the factory with hidden agency. Clocks of Delphic process slobber fretful verse, which is the target of a word or two. Jim Morrison arrived by plane to extend his hand. It was a hand like straw for practice.

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