Skip to main content

The Word for Instant Caramel

 The wind flails free across the verdant fields, winds the size of Asrteroth and no mistake, yokels of the common asshole breed of Judgment flick cigs in corn Time and truly know a hump, meanwhilst and shandy the August Senator from Illiana or Indinois barfs to splint the peduncle of assertion everso vast upon the glissading point of order vital for freehold, and the spell of vacation for the Honorable and most slow-cooked morass of pinnacle outrageousness clinging to utmost cause if not effect, and Internet billabong wherewith strife meets the common parlance with sizzles of the oncological puzzle, Amourican emblems bestride the soothsaid something from quarters of wind and black holesdelight of the rumption and the gumption entitling eyesing in the strict condo documentarianness for footsie among the flowers, such such and gasping gas on the purpled phone home, the sally has begun—-


YOU then with harp tones of negligence may now bend suffixes to the appropriate wind or dogmatic tractor pull fortified by clogged drain eminence for surely the obvious vocal pinpoint could understand half a verb and What think you so? 


Our flivvers await, Gentle conk of forehead deigning, each to the vorpal prime of so it goes: Steam isn’t really water like we used to have, nowadays or ever

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Words

  From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
2 comments
Read more

A Child’s Proletariat Garden

  The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
1 comment
Read more

A Screed Left Town

  Inside the excuse for nation: leafy tractors (any bonding to the brownness of earth will do). A day’s march from the next day’s march, the love amongst us on a map. The map shows citadel, city in a dell, and abounding fields. The trees have effort to contend with. Bears chuff to excess in a workfarm spring. Something tall rises on the plain. Mills confirm the need for rivers. Troops stop where the food is. Terror provides the function for non-terror, in zones described as war-like. Pictures become words for people sighing. One sees a lack of food, or especial jewels, or the need for frocks made from bison. Another tower seems important for a nation’s existence, one taller than might. It will seem like tradition. You and I are left to explain.
Post a Comment
Read more