Simple Theories

Penchant shines bright in the hayfield where we remember space thru agitation. We see the rain in hearty plash, scoping rumoured rivers to extent. Dreams clang on simple bells, the whirled. Definitions fill in askance. Two fairly intelligent young gentlemen, one brutal and ruthless killer get great rates on home equity lines. Someone is butchering the darlings of Society, and not even Queen Victoria is the “canary in the coal mine”. The scandal of opposition died down, and the stone-carver himself, though the town-folk continued to eye a sociologist who studies fads. The area is so dirty that merchants report the tourists are looking into their own chaotic world of million. Lawmakers in the State House have given bipartisan blessing to a few ideas for new tax exemptions this year, despite a budget shortfall that is widely brought together by a misdelivered package. And you may laugh, because you did not do your merely this and nothing more. Conventional wisdom has it that Preside...

A theater critic who was notorious for his titanically touring on a riverboat near Dandong left in a hurry. He voted eugenically. He spoke panzer divisions. He sorted his crack pipes. He loped across the veldt with his miasma. He produced nonsense in New Hampshire. He cleared the ratiocinations for further rage. He consulted the booby hatch. He broached dismal. These are the rays of pending. Rustle of documents that declare certain frames. We vote with our wand. Jostled snort of entertained opinion. Flapped a wing with willows bending to the water. The water sighs, alleviates and change. A flood closes zone of reach. Radiated stay back, colossally. We have no up where to go.

There years were, and as reference, kindly for news. A light in a window one day, clouds in a day with pastures. Shiny instruments paused like roses. We were loved by the time we took. Years of ice and sooner fell in waves before us. You remember, we were kids. We were tried and true, with roses, plummy bright roses. Lights rose from ashes, baskets in a haze. You were tired, I was worse. Plumes of water rose from battered rocks in the edge of something storm. Naturally we remained. Chords on a piano remember tasks of given. Something paused like roses as the green came loose and grand. Someone plays the drums, outright,. As far as dance conditions, and we say our words, the moment rests. Not the beat, of course, but the pasture land between. Holding hands is a careful sentence. Every sentence bounds to further stated. We were kids, and such is as we stay. Piper at dawn shocks my brain. We are kids.