Simple Theories

the current marsh beams with documents and change. ducks force exact sounds into the argument, which traces simple phrases into pulsating pattern. a poem becomes a constant, blending words into the landscape like leaves and water. ducks subsume, starling and blue jay rent cost effective dowager settlement, the world wakens anew. this swarm of intention brings bold statement from political casuistry to the door of memory. the clang of weed rental outweighs the spoils of dynasty. fences receive admirers. all patterns include one stray note of sharing. language resumes potable conviction since we are stern releases of antic gas. now spring starts anew, piles word upon word. a glimmer remains to relax in, then the shoals beckon ships, or snakes bask in the sun, or many trains of thought pour into the empty. these words that might be poems remain in traction, not debarred but pressed to glass. morning is dark until it finds a portal. portals bring everything, just as every parent di...

there was easily seven in the precipice of township. the shit bags of diunal pulverize stun winking fits on total nostrum. you are punk cost fiddle banshee. with electric clabbering cuckold penchant screen for verisimilitude (just so that you know), the Klingons banter mildly. the gold coast auction panda grumbles on arriviste tunes (tendency shackle). Stalin proves a botch job fungo bat clerical whizbang that just shows to go you

the helicopter sank in daily news, 17 of 18 passengers dying. dying planks the mooring, folds simple people into rushed stream. civilized society draws stripes in power maze, as Saigon falls several times (Dong and Thi fled to Cambodia, while Diem excoriated the United States for a perceived lack of support), like helicopter ditched in provocative sea. android is futuristic, thank Star Trek plantation. a sentence sticks to rules, buoys upon cold sea and the facts thereof. we read of things, hear more, add something called data. Data, the android, was powerful message of how you can stick in the mud. mud is at bottom, where the sunk chopper settled. it no longer chops but creates a place of rest. not really. a poem wants all that entailed, then data for the margins. thus Star Trek, a winning combination of actions and reactions. we learned today helicopter. period.