Simple Theories

The gods are like perhaps you want a crust of bread, and ready ready with the Republic. The gods scoff legion to the brim.  You read a book, sitting down, what’s the chorus? Television show unguents. How is the language praxis when tidal onus spores in the swell of after all? A question down while look how poetry on the off chance different. The crust of bread foments to Nowhere. Post vacuum digital bus oh Flying Bus and and give time the Human update radical. It couldn’t be found because it wasn’t a town.

A note from such as, in the solstice time: Please add poetry to the seductive mining of language. Assimilation is possible, in slow motif, while the television pleases various. Sky won’t limit, the factor of Gods will illuminate even the easiest chance. It is now the hindrance of darkness of which the people sing. In the trees, the playful planets, and geese of the intimate ruction, the right resonance resides, or so say the words.

They would say exceptional space of time and They the other would gawk the moon and overlap. It proved well a tale and then was young. To everyone’s surprise. Much went into it, and written down it look like a lot. But that was time ago, thinking of famous writers in their shoes. Autobiography of anyone else Drives that market. Anyone else makes a claim in sentences. verbs and nouns mingle. The words part and They the other town

At first, no poetry could exist because jungle and alibi and webs. Then a desert tent. Then wind. The pressures arrive with birds. This is not the same nature that met us on the tracks. The news has flowers after all. The Flying Bus streaks across Thinking. And then, just For poetry, something leaves behind. It can no longer Carry the fame of distraction. The character of lush precinct cools the town. The Flying Bus of Okay now presumes a new. A day of spectacle eyes arises.