Tuesday, June 1, 2010

I Admire Your Bathtub

Dear Extortium,

If you were blonde, you would be a trivet, and that explanation would deliver contracts to Obama, for the sake of a middle class that surrounds ├ęclairs. Why burst when crusts of bread are discarded like embolisms? Cabbage remains ocular, in the garden, that day, memory like a transit authority.

Extortium, the mellow fundament of sneak attacks and snacks resolves in a great television evening. We will write a new document that includes Artemis and Oprah Winfrey. We want a sport model, now, just like a tunnel thru sluggard language vents.

Extortium, Swiss cheese in a hospital is no unguent. Yeti smirks at the idea of perfect cheese. Escalators are easy to explain.

We await, and after that finality, we move. Moving is a method for all sentients. Mars as a planet compares to other large masses. Johnny Carson is dead.

Extortium, Obama failed as fulcrum, but what were we thinking? Fulcrums are so topic sentence, infer paragraph of when we were up, then down. That slice, Extortium, boggles the muggle smoke. British Petroleum invents a hole, and we are talking about Allen Ginsberg’s toe.

Field and valence,


P.S. There’s a boiler room in the southeast corner.

Monday, May 31, 2010

That Sister of Yours

This Vatican in my pocket smells like penchant, said the Arch Duke Sasquatch. Feast is enabled by clear thinking and toads listening to their mothers. Clusters sparkle for the bass, which presents its topic sentence, which then studs the wall of inquiry while the guitar roams for more aspersion. We weave to the sidebar, where uncorked sensation revels for a word. Each word, a romance itself, spoon, dilettante, refectory. The ocean includes hermit crabs.

Documents still as Arch Duke Sasquatch says, que pasa. Pianos float to the top, inspired by chords. Fires in Quebec mark the sky. You are a cargo plane, says Arch Duke Sasquatch, and everyone becomes their underwear.