Simple Theories

The wind of the final continent blows open the porch door. The oddity of porches suffices in ventricle pause. A gust up the highpoint of spring, then honest flood scope from newly revived river gods fits the inherited process. Goddesses align with non-goddesses in politic credence. We are talking about so many things at once. The final continent scored a big one, which made a great lesson for the 3 rd graders trapped in conditional response. The 4 th graders felt shirty. 5 th graders were almost rare in the gleam of their imposed glister. 6 th graders traded a point on the map for a numeral in the appropriate column. 7 th , 8 th , and 9 th grade are exactly the same. Bring on the taxidermists! 10 th grade means minimalist. 11 th grade consoles the plaque left by the class of never after. 12 th grade becomes the final porch before the final continent. And so you were saying that the excellent death of the roused ingrate constitutes a plorable fence for further non-discus...

We made a doorknob out of a princess once, illuminating a specious precious sentence bespoke by authority. Yes, Bin Laden, the wellstone of numerical response systems, died the death of orange colours filtering thru the virid empathy of oak leaves. In these days of adding substance to non-substance for the sake of newscasts and angular movement, the subtle backstroke of offering solemn assassination to the wholesome gods of retributive net fund fulminates in dire adjectives applied to homely nouns. Vestiges rally into a picture that could be complete, in the same way that a river can. Think of the difference one could make if one did not add up. Think of the relief of mansions in the Arcady of affirmation. Think of essence as the beginning of a long line of thinking. When thinking is done, a sentence finishes. One sentence suffices as idea. Several ideas fill a paragraph. The real statement needs an offered structure and aloof. Osama Bin Laden is dead, in the sea, crammed into ...

Obey Fu Manchu or every living thing will die. This is the settlement. There were people here, before the first people. Certainly the vista proposed an assertion. Magnetism, a breed of magic. They sailed salubrity, in an effort to sustain civilization. The Stamp Act meant so much. History produces a pile. Sentences fit paragraphs, oftentimes. The center of a word is its meaning? The center of a paragraph is its meaning. Many words mean paragraphs. Fu Manchu was a production. Sax Rohmer was a production.

(A Concord Mass) The bridge over the raging Concord River startles thoughts into secular bomb bays. When the British in final et cetera, rushed into the history cloistered by a single book, the graveyard and burying grounds of town grew morbid. Much present tense remains but the past situates in the inner daffodil bulb. No one speaks English, exactly. They die on hills, and remain buried, more or less. The less part includes free parking at certain highly-regarded places. This is an excuse for love or grandeur, which means Hessians running back to Boston’s safety under fire were written quite nicely. The season is poetics. 2) Pouring rain comes consummate cause, and the rush of a very fine river. Willow trees grow on you, which makes you what? Lurk is a better pronoun for most people. 3) The topic sentence belongs somewhere where it will be noticed. 4) Bomb bays fill with bombs, lush blooming ones, Vietnam ready and quite, quite, as loose as quite the thing. 5) They talk of l...

Yet, the group consisted of bro Solo career in the '70s. Older brothers George Viral Osmond, Jr. (Viral) and were born deaf and “did nothing, ever." From 1971 to solo hits, has led many to assume he was the group's lead. But 1976, he had 12 top-40 hits, including 5 in the top 10. Donny's popularity, and his numerous Osmond, Marie Osmond, and Jimmy Osmond—plus Donny and Marie had begun recording duets and had hits And producing for 5 technically separate artists: The Osmond’s Merrill was the lead singer and By now the family was touring, recording, creating, and producing for 5 technically separate artists: The Osmond’s, Donny 1976, he had 12 top-40 hits, Odes assume he was the group's lead. But Merrill was the lead singer and vow from 1971 to , Donny Osmond, Marie Osmond, and Jimmy Osmond—plus Donny and Marie had begun recording duets with "I'm Leaving It Up to You" and "Morning Side of the Mountain". Through all the stress and...

You wren cocked when The Byres fluted 8 Miles High. An easy disaster, telling shift from not shift, all spun. Jimi Hendrix visitation and collapse, dead pool for Jimmy Page. Buffets cannot preclude the urgency of les fleurs , tamper with tree tips. Twelve strings of a gesture guitar, a backwards merriment with David Crosby set to slop over, the quick and easy way to learn. Raga got together. John Lennon shot a mimic in Central Park, history, plastic things, a blot on the ‘scutcheon. “Your lions are fighting with chairs.”

Hobos relinquish as ditches. Times change, bears die offensively, and ditches remain. The human potentate decrees that time slices things. Not for us even, but news of Republicans. A course of action settles the ditch. The ditch frequents surveys of pain, but does not count. We are poured into tight situations, the special concrete of our vision, and peddle biological remorse. As homeless as a door folded into coinciding planes until the offering of one sluggish being seems enough for the taxable porch. Speed endures, ponds space out, books dilate, frogs frequent maps, and hobos dock in the dark while raining scores rock. Indent your every paragraph, in the proud excuse for position.