Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Shouting Match with New Yorker

This mattress pad was made by Syria you are fighting. The thing pamphlet includes groundfire, dogs, the possibility of dinner. And you were wonderful with the way of sentient airplane going somewhere somewhere, lodestone. And then a debate which costs the taxpayers 10 into 10 divide by the mystery of 1 ounce reaching the door where sense = subtitle. Laxity as a province, coarse verbs as a sequence.

Today the numerals made sense. We are scattered. Tendencies fall short of arriviste butter.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

My Dad and I Have Shared an iTunes

If you hate Syria because it is mean, you are a guitar twice falling to the middle of open tuning forget it.

If you hate that time when the time was open to changing the monkey pile, you are red with a terrible grin.

If you hate the home of Syria while you relay the tempest of doubt, you have a backseat in every bounding bus home from halfway home.

Goads push empty sequence. You

are a wire. The electric

of naming the thing becomes

a moist pattern severely.

We rely on

the noise of

our sound cooling the

airwaves of resistance.

All everything is all anything.