Simple Theories

  flutter huge dips ice dio cese upon ang ling toward whole Town as house the features of linen and wool the hand out food and children with Magnificat as relief in the times such that wind from behind and all hear stars

  Grey sky you would have Thought  the ocean Is a deer  Presently the past One sees

  Because frankly or dispel old world reactionary for the glorious sake. In today’s parlance what is this Santa Claus and snow too. The yearning at the edge of the room and they talk about mangers. A donkey isn’t responsible for climate control. Statements must be made while even children seem light. And now it is time dear friends wafer are a bit of Santa. Drink some cheer you think your right. But what is this Santa, his manger his star and all thru the night. The night can be very cold and the Star. So in conclusion in these very days in now or so you say Santa Claus what is this about. Join hands and see a candle. That is that the true meaning or other about.P

stages flirt for stages in human response zone soothed of meaning with e labour ate motives frond-co loured whilst traveling the speed of night

  the time now to say Your chakras smell of hemoglobin please wash your  bangles the Town by which the numbers add and so the sluice defers  the place in which the neural meters collect like ‘Justin Bieber’ The basis of infection parlaying socio- contumeliousliness reverberating in the merest Baby  Such is the as phyxiating Quandary focal boundary

the poem in flame the natural voice of any word places the Town on fields of heather and gorse with Zeus the expected mightiest of big tantrums unrelated to nothing human  each word meets fragrance with a patch of fog

  He died by cause I will never learn. He died in a gap that remains.  He said nothing nor did I. The time had come and the day went simple. I see him in a bed and something nothing something. Surely something ought to something. Instead, he died, that simple part of that. Lexical things offer vantage, take it or leave. Sounds remain, green and long.

  Hair has something and becomes. A braid is one way, several braids another, many braids a wonder. Gather a handful with a stretchy thing. Pin locks in ways. Let parts or all be low or gone. Skin glisten if it can. Use product hold it tight, lifted or combed. Knot a hank and be done. Turn to colour, any colour a sport. A bandana for those times, a hat for those. Train it for curls or not curls. Be then in time with anyone else, explained as simply as the sky. The sky changes colour whether we live or not.

  Font the grey clouds for golf divots, the golf be Tween us. grass certainly grass, the old town and not new. the poem in exact in these terms, swaying of grass or leaves in trees. grey cloud some times clog some fresh news in town they drove to their rights in reading wrong, all night theory tracts of sp ace called minute by minute just to explain. those words in the poem seem enough but only time tells.

  Dear Time and All, The day grows rose scratches, succulent tomatoes, weird thru clouds from sun or what we know. Autumn asks for hay, apples, rising dark, and the beams of everything together. It doesn’t matter who does what but the season cannot be silly. Imperious moonlight becomes just reflection. The day makes a beat. Some of us tire from the simplest, tho gorgeous remains on our eyes. No room remains at the cemetery, long words lack effect. Because gloom seems idyllic, and Stone has such a voice, we make farewells seem frosty with spirit. We know we go on, even when the leaves in the road swirl without realistic import. The sport continues. Family melts into stone, stone so near. Drums tell. A flash of time and immediate guff. Winds weep the turning sky. Ghosts fill the cavern tho a sky of cantons seems insistent. Rocks carry voices, voices carry time. Small words tell rock, what we meant after all. Busted words meet in the end, and an urge to salute. Signing off as a friend, lo

  distance makes the cunning of sound a sparrow or other indication plead for a day past night so much to hold and lose in terms of haze upon a field or marsh or reaching a conclusion a hint in volves the sibling of the moment ap parent con fusion in time or not

  line items on the Moon united in the space between  brothers caulk the heavens like ultra while rhyming Dylan with Dylan  the time for string beckons straw beguiles the mind’s sigh chortling chords amble in blink  poems exist in no terms that a poem can sustain wrinklings of probity in form the deck hands: the new world spends

   Poplars of jungle  Cagey enterprise  Specific debate points and dental plans  Pipe on the Hob (jig)  Old-fashioned example  House of trope  Explanation by mandolin  Archives, adjustments  Familial music   The levee breaks, keeps on pouring  Find your way home

  the definite became endless as families become im patient land of trees with frame and season all forget a lifetime of favorite  gorse bracken heather flush maple oak and the landscape spree

  The River slice Of Peen-enabled green Vertibles illumined wily in Infra-coastal time being so and so The value becomes organic like the natural shift in playthings and the loss of living features slurring vowels and consonants Together with weighted expectation of family times tho Death Death makes an argument and small letters live with Large ones time and Time again

  when everything mattered, when tax breaks darling, when sentences were sentences, when lip service served dessert, when elk had leisure, when even the musty remained, when uncalled for fronds in the picnic display, when Apache history gaslighted, when simplistic rainfall goo goo ga joob, when a piece of shit meant something, when dialogue talked like oats, Then to the lists fair elephants and prong, our daily dose calls to thee and your implied traction, cankers stand for festive, politics makes mucous, the sunless isles look dark in this light, we are friends to the end

  Save money by eating Russian oligarch. In the space between increments, shepherds look at the freshest Russian oligarch. Morsels. A smidgeon of import with fresh daisies smells of delicious Russia. Oh, no Russia exists but only pieces and we have states that make business. The rich Russian oligarch can carry a recipe, plodding viably now. The money of delicious Russian oligarch can improve the life center. Hello, we are destined to Russian oligarch. To seize the day and delicious, flock world Russia oligarch. In morning open window breeze, delicious Russian oligarch maybe friends and has some time. Lunch would maybe be Russian oligarch delicious, hold on tight. Crisp and crunchy.

  atheist housewives make brownies for Satan. what are the facts?  Satan relaxes with ball peen hammer, a few wrenches, the colour of clocks, and many objects of interest.  any president worth a pillar of salt should understand some of the Constitution diverted to ritual patience including such parts referencing  washing bathroom floors and imitating context.  fear of brownies fosters inadequate response.  all explanations require taut ships, team play, mornings biting hard.  no brownies for breakfast but steel ingots with the look of a grey eye.  the people shall vote for puddles and spume.  those lads and lasses on the campaign trail may smell of light wandering but they know atheism fulfills their blistering shoes. all shifts make further shifts.  buyouts begin after breakfast.  familiar reasons cannot exist. just be kind.

  AS the emphatic re bounding minstrels of field-savvy rebellion lark upon the odd pleasance of colours notable for calling out the sheaves and winnows of words SO the rugged bell of words slenderly concedes

 The Address, Now children the basket you ARE carried towns of seasons occur

Look on the Pondside with Littoral ex cursion See bumble bEe intrusion The Bear down the Road that barn down the Road fret Trinkets open Desultory doors min Utes after Minutes Phlogiston the town

the fields resume as fields intimate and tremen do us light ring in crow talk flickered meantime

  certainly fierce like the degradation of gravel the porous human fact ion the ponderous port al then the heavy door clanked

  the rubber con traption is con cealed by Len in's dark blue woolen busi ness suit Was He Still in state there people know they k Now they know better

  Elephants are people too a practiced wall engages Nothing