Simple Theories

Doctors trip over Vandals, and varlets stop at Stop & Shop to read about Jennifer Aniston, while waiting. Broccoli becomes eager, as Willow Ware, featuring doves in love, creates a past as endless as detail. Doctors run thru hoops but Vandals invade with real cheese. Cheese is a magnificent contention. Cheese is a belief system, slaying Dogon cosmologies as simply as create an extension. A poem is a toll, a moan, a managed care environment, sliced like the most eternal of cheeses. Managed care is botched, however, which creates surprises. Surprises are a kind of cheese, with the smell of milk from the ages, and the arc of a great narrative ridiculousness. What is tip Number 4? A coat of paint (paint = cheese). San Diego is architecture and design experience. Take down material, relieve the Doctors, respect the Vandals, slap a coat of paint, on. Varlets read about Jennifer Aniston, awaiting the old person with the can of tomato soup, a finishing transaction. Soup is simple, you see,...

it was a lank discovery, studied so that peaches grew in equine summit, parsing swift umbrage with a glockenspiel drill. weird aspects sopped in nitrates loomed over nitrites on a breakfast morn with twin engine custard. why, then, do we dream in rich panacea, while the gods in goofball flopping spend sentences in torchlight? postulates of pungency sound like marzipan over prairie dog, and yet we return to the same manor, the same rood of temper, the same gorse-lined object sentence. a noun brings forceps while a verb tries hard. terrorists bring sump pumps to the back porch, and spring once again begins.

The day of clicking sent roots precariously, which just happened to wake bear. Bear ran the riverside and verse, tending toward a blossoming blueberry bush. Bear is sleek as you are surprised. To feed is to fill the hole that winter was. Pardon the river as it straddles the landscape in gust. Bear is indignant, did not vote for Bush. Obama, this is a network containing words felt for rollicking and timeless leasing proposals. Our country, if you are we, resists pragmatism as surety. Bear contingent opts for prose poems, nowadays. Grains of sand stricken from the record have resurfaced as moons around Saturn. These just piles of impressive dust in circles of inflection will likely fall into the well of the gas giant's heart. Whereas bear, straining for population, maintains an amble of intent beyond such tug. It is all Idaho and the miracle of margin. I once wrote a poem , said John Milton. What??? we replied. The roots of Cromwell's clicking remain with us, so poetry seems thi...

we think we are making inroads, then the bear walks down the hill. is it spring already? definite clouds give way to ephemera of roads based on memory. Renaissance music fills the rood in which we walk, while a galloping bear prepares the year for spring. it has wrestled with the majority and hunkered down. now is a pleasant concept, devised in a language. we go on in the language. trifles of crocus send dogma packing, patches in the clouds form rescue league. diurnal plectrum, modest increment, political quark, and all these reasons to trust. a dusting of sunlight lays smartly on the early grass. sullen children with their numchucks resist bailout offers while seminal scalawags reap status alerts on Facebook. Jennifer Aniston arises in the bedded morn to speak of dark and wonderful things. her Agamemnon is like no other. justice scouts plenty and decides. voices lift the bandage. the government and all its particles cluster on the finest point. upon this point a team from Facebook ...

Nepal's unrest is a minor distraction , hissed the evil of Fu Manchu. it works the margins, that story . cackle. Sir Denis Nayland-Smith must absolutely tamp the tobacco in his pipe immediately. he receives no bonuses from AIG, where Dr Fu Manchu works part time as a dirge. his part is earnest diatribe, with machines floating in the air for reasons of nefariousness (plumed for future consultation). meanwhile, Madagascar, you could prove human nature by the very citizens who live there. the latest is only the most unprovable.

ritual bear developed a broad expanse. words of its clime sifted thru ripe clouds that sent rain, even to the the human world. dizzying process suffered the pants off of human endeavour. the bear was wild in increments of favour. we read of drastic change, and felt that Afghanistan could stand a chance. Afghanistan is named for the land where the land is. and people people the land. and bears are arguments in the landscape. they play as a river filled with bears searching for ultra shores where blueberries control life. life is savoured in increments of blueberries. nobody dies but a few relatives of Ted Hughes. they read of ends and distances, then see a bear, and the bear runs off. when the bears run off, we lose a farmstead. each bear in the landscape represents one lost farmstead. each lost farmstead is the death of a relativity. the basis of poetry resides in the project of armed forces certifying the troubled landscape in Afghanistan. do we really believe in Afghanistan? it is a ...

the current marsh beams with documents and change. ducks force exact sounds into the argument, which traces simple phrases into pulsating pattern. a poem becomes a constant, blending words into the landscape like leaves and water. ducks subsume, starling and blue jay rent cost effective dowager settlement, the world wakens anew. this swarm of intention brings bold statement from political casuistry to the door of memory. the clang of weed rental outweighs the spoils of dynasty. fences receive admirers. all patterns include one stray note of sharing. language resumes potable conviction since we are stern releases of antic gas. now spring starts anew, piles word upon word. a glimmer remains to relax in, then the shoals beckon ships, or snakes bask in the sun, or many trains of thought pour into the empty. these words that might be poems remain in traction, not debarred but pressed to glass. morning is dark until it finds a portal. portals bring everything, just as every parent di...