Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Format Paintbrush

Prime numbers react to acids vented from archetype. Dream in which spelling counts, then night of long knives. Logically speaking, not so soothing, when the adding is done. They were children like reaction, attending Phish concert number 17101. The set list was hot, and every instrument in the band made sound. In fit vagary, ocean spun calculated tang for the bums in luxury. Resistance means universal health care, poured on the shores of taxation. This reveals why people stagger. Trees mean something until winter, then the wood is easy burning. So are children, in the back seat of each city. So are spellbound denting of pillows, as the head falls for slumber in an age. The guitarist of importance scratches chords from elegy. Or whatever, child in time.

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