Monday, December 28, 2015
Friday, December 25, 2015
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Friday, December 18, 2015
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Friday, November 27, 2015
Monday, November 23, 2015
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Monday, October 12, 2015
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Monday, September 28, 2015
Monday, September 21, 2015
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Friday, September 18, 2015
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Steve Jobs didn't care if people thought he was an asshole. Thomas Edison was an asshole. Would I be more looked at by girls if I was a little bit of an asshole? Donald Trump opened his mouth.
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Friday, August 21, 2015
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Listen to the drum, people blue, that town of effort that calls exhaust. We have raised and raised, pouring pure culture tract alliance.
Each word fortified and fell to almost other town. That generation as we speak goes goose amongst the reeds.
Went to dance crack creation. Open source fresco worries the flight, even the earth. Even the even earth, as measured in the light.
Now document it, people. As the trip relates to dying fresh, how can the control seek more than light?
What of your love, then, that whirled and training? Can the words of pastoral seed and sown remove the date of late destiny? Trails and tropic sentences. The latent stop to all of that.
Breathe with only words. Definitions shame the face of wanting stone. Nothing leaves us but ourselves.
Monday, June 8, 2015
The land of proctored pastures, a verb as the only registration of humanity, stuck water in the spring-summer air: I want to build my house next door to you.
Faces concern faces, the plains of only and event. For thirty seconds, each a lifetime, fancy tapping in the doorway freshet.
Nothing is a creek, just an implication hayride. The first field of hay borne to gravid heights. Big words win in contests over touch.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
You see a bat at Vanessa’s place. It can only swing or be a bat. It has a handle and functions like words, or wordlessness, same diff. When applied to headache, it is the argument for all headaches. When applied to floater over the plate, the planet exactly in time to neural pathway decisions of tectonic plates in Western US and grandeur Himalaya, then a verb grows to unmanageable proportions.
Context and concept allow limits. In between each concept, a concept hazards a guess.
The decision of tectonic plates is final. Vanessa places the bat where it does most good. Good is a concept used in times of need. Good varies with context. The concept becomes a context for a bat or something. Laughingly, the wind is gone.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Stars crumble because détente. Rash or Russian perplex of gravid Death of Scholar Pants resumés.
A fleece pantry exists (patent pending) whereby once needing fleece conveys the exactitude of place for the wherewithal of finding exact change idiom. There is no idiom like the one I got.
Haul bleak primogeniture to Everest fan base. Collectible has been meets referent hornswoggle. Accept the Dutch rendering of detritus.
Fardel creampuff resists placid sentence. You redeem mirror pressure with honed hem and haw.
The place love conveys in a wetland of words, for rich forgiving, you who expect. A sentence cannot convey a sentence, it must remain town of sentence.
A sentence of Everest night exactly without much air or where to go but up or down. Down among the trees that do not disappear. Up to the end of logical approach. Both hit the mire of simplicity.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Sunday, April 12, 2015
In the incredible place beyond the stars and requiem, furtive tho grey edge of a sunset dodge, even include a starburst of red light like something telling. Layers of life explain layers of time, until a town becomes a central theme, like snow melt. Longer than a sentence and with dire vowels to sound, speaking of a place where the water runs, the wind runs, and cooing mourning doves run, these patches of effort become towns with days. Everything displaces the next minute, then protocol reverses the trend. We are nations in the morning trying to explain the bent seasonal smell of these dead leave. Even Dick Cheney is a god unto himself. Introduce yourself to the blanket of your town.