Simple Theories

Writers matter when the words. Period the words, and the matter. The class of matter remains class, and matter. Black matter happens. Writers make matter in periods of matter. Ministers include people and otherwise the notion of who can say what. Finalizing the whereof of some prosecution, the word finalist stops with gaping mouth. Let a word. Experts agree, diagonally, in the final dalliance and procure. You can find poems. More often, and less likely, they find you. Adjust your asymptotes accordingly.

Once again the posting, on the door, to receive the door impact, to fly into the most-caved presumption. One dawn only, in the immaculate sense, which leaves us drizzly, spelling claim authority as two words, believing neither. The fence post ideology transumed by simplest statement, one elbow speaking for two. One blither as posture, a post in the summer after swearing to inhale. Not a tractor beam pulling sense but a grabbing anything more. The space between words is like people. Once again there is the wall around the rest. Once more a mouth feeding ummasticated words from the formal fund of derelict. Once again this is your treasure, with names like Trump, Coulter, lash and stream false class.

Nothing left in the beer facility, town crosses lines over oceans. You have to be there. Nothing left in leftover condition must read wrong ways new. Indignant wig pours Donald Trump into Elysian squares. Posture flambeau! Nothing escapes the mind of Donald Trump. Literally. The gates are closed. Butter your Donald like normal. Only free world succours home people planet time. You can do it, provocation of transit in windswept plenary.

How does Bobby Jindal paint glue on everything? How does he release a statement? How does he talk to cranes? Where can he spell his name? Over which rock should he spill his term? Which ladder on his porch will reach the ground? Panting for violets, when does Bobby look okay? How often can he spell his name? Under what conditions should he explain his shoes? Does he have a happy amplifier? Will he ever seem fresher than toast? Could he trick his toast someday? When spilling affable drinks, will Bobby imitate his own teeth? Where is his zoning map? Did he ever get that proverb from the closet? Channeling his monetize, does Bobby make soap? Has Bobby Jindal been drifting further and further toward a pile of socks ? Is the ocean vague enough for the eyes of Bobby Jindal?