This is what it comes to. Everything fading away like this morning’s shower. The noxious noise of the fucking Blue Angels. I don’t get mad enough. Here are just a few words, like always. A snippet from Tammy’s memoir of growing up in Rison. About a girl who wows a breadman with her biscuits and Velveeta fudge worth its weight in gold. Plus this book that I’m addicted to. A cloudy reason for hope. Never changing adjectives. A fat blue jay next to a squirrel and the awful history of poetry.
It is darkish. I become this person not to count on. Who can we count? Not on me! But I need you. It’s a darkish rainy day. I’m in Egypt. Remember this day. We talk about the frogs. Omigod. Extremely. Remember me? Do I count? I ceased bookcase requires catalogue. I strangelove. Often codes relenting position I (laugh here). Ha. Ha. There may be many times you see me in the pillow (don’t laugh here). There may be many such nostalgia. Yes Yes there may be many times I count like Saturday night when we went drinking we went dancing we went pinballing and we rented Sunset Boulevard. Everything becomes yes. Trite like an orchid and believing that the presidency is sexual. We identify with every stolen word. Oh my own heart is heavy. I mean my accent for example. It misses something. We identify uniquely numbers. We place distance. We play distant. WE begin printing. Remember? Yeah, this is cool. We become like the only person counting. We are not the person not counting. Not to not count on. Not also the method Sutra bearing this date. Not also Not Also doable. Wearing our cracks on our many rainy skins.
it’s getting hot in the asylum. the attraction under the clavicles. please bring me home and last til the end of time my love. give me the lovin’ that is paperback warm. so vertical.
do you know where we found the line just before our love got lost? when the hot earth trembled. please bring me home. and give it (me) more sunlight. moderate
these dreamy volumes. these dreamy dreams maintaining their shape. fulfilling their desirability. I felt your heart so close to mine. every stolen. my own filled home. the heavy accent.
the ice water sitting on the table and its many reflective genres. I thought the sun rose in your eyes. I keep the thought of us cooked up in the moon and the stars. not the asylum nor the paperback sipped into the sunlight. but give it to me. and I would still. why do you
The cultural leftovers maintains a shape. It is Two Thousand the year of our Lord of Sunlight and moderate humility. What are your expectations? I’ve already gotten used to all of the poetry and this expectation fits my desirability (IMHO). He’s nuts when he cooks and he makes me hungry. I am reading about a chef invoice after midnight. It says you owe me this much. A Humble invoice. A United wealth States invoice. A bill for Carnegie. A Mellon bill. It is 3:04pm and the baylight rosebushes—Oh “And if we are to understand ourselves” I’m gonna dress my head for the wind next to the giant burrito. I am oncall and I am reading these bookx to the ocean up there. Up there where two thousand reflected classless societies. Up there where middle afford homes. It is understandably above and beyond the call. We show this by black marks on a white ocean. We show this by the taco truck—it’s The advent of a paperback explosion—they will warm it up for you. We scream about this. Judith Butler screams about this. My green dragon screams about this. We scream there’s no sour cream we scream there’s no guacamole.
Fascinating pain at the tips of my fingers leaps literally spreads contained acid and causes fires to destroy within. Halfway down the river where things start to disappear earlier I’m making a limestone pulp cough up a slate patch while a mean bluejay sharpens his beak. Libraries trying to get educated acidfree alkaline paper. Takes this chemical text – standing on the streetcorner checking out the “arch itecture” – stores reduced lightning into little seedpods on front porch.
begun congruent option of pink mascara Ready on Cambridge Street. the Printers’ materials cater to markets both medieval and B.C. all the muslin rags changes to Cantabrigian I guess practices of worldWidth fifteenth century mostly valuable, probably the most interesting of his poems, they protect precious evident bookmarks like all the Queens Barker presented Elizabeth besides laundry. I will surely miss Boston. its fringed silk bookmarks and Common ribbons.
welcome to the twenty-first century. your Datsun is bleeding. more Eliot behalf parents Xiantong i.e. inventor Sheng movable circa bad music still rules. it’s a beautiful hoax. calling Dad from Nathalie’s with a disco ball and his “Happy New Year” surviving embedded shallow tray lined laid level. cooled pages. it’s me here at Dunkin Donuts. Johann Gutenberg started widely on Huntington across from the Y. note: Chwe Yunui Goryo Dynasty Korea. the trash yawns upset. estimated hangovers various Janet Jackson at the Pizzeria Uno. Calm medit ative obnoxious Doris Day.
what happens after Death. ? the cat talks /Number delivery. the Ukraine Galleries Wordpress AdSense diggs, reddit. ? what really.... what really happens? Responses Borino Says: stuff them! is this... Is this the last time I’ll write a journal entry in the 20th century? One lordtime Jerry. Jerry ONimo. a soviet Boris who translated Hank fighting. regardless Stalin I’m sure it doesn’t mean a thing. Last night’s dream, what was it? If it were titled it would be some thing like “Sex with V.” vodka?
wanna whatever minutes. SHiT battery lame kills matter. this long new white piece we drag up the hill past Sutter. past Bush happy. he wants to fuck me and furthermore yeah succesful knockin nothin. fanboys. this portion edited complies w/ Gamespots TOO and the swearing policy. its problems vs. these kinds of farfetched labrats Wasnt supposed to be in the MS. I’m addicted and there’s my love. this atmosphere of the northeast does not necessarily appeal to me. New York City! t raining Resident Evil Snob too. &TOO Mrated adults Mature frown Childish violent gameplay but should we split? I would go to Peace Corps Violent Manliness. goto SF portland worrying proves Immature. Kingdom Anyway homebrews emulators embraces the scorn. blocked Posters Stalin Soviet people Students Workbook Speech etc... personals Reader AJAX. So hear I am. Sugggestions?
everone miserbly Bukhara conbine SUCKS BETTER. Saturday night not much a day. all I did after poetry was stupied brower riss coming. GPS messening fall. also DAXTER LUMMINIES KILLZONE COMING SOON GTA CITY STORIES ALSO.etc. methrod. stop. yesterday I learned the difference between dreary and descry. try pa smell. Hollingsberg where the tea comes off like steam after it masturbate on the whitewall. that i agree. initially launch evilross. its D/L gym ect.Plus access nice... look I am reading the shadows. the purple shadows. the Coco-luxe player worming through bedlam... bleh....it does. O’s spam computer is now fine. our new hrs pls ask cat’s paw. nuclear reactor billgates smaller. I stolen Windsday stop.
it is neither a beetle nor the twilight of salt and pepper. our search is for silverfish. it is trying to snow. the rain clears it up. there’s a blizzard on the bus while I avoid the sweets of December. a second order of paradise. flirting with a Dan at an Eagle. an interstate marga rita (this is the one with the header “a search for love”) all over the chips. a slice of modern cutie. I don’t think I’ve had the frozen regular jugular with salsa. a deep deep secret. these new fires change objects periodically. new objects change fires periodically. new changes fires objects. more bugs on the stove. John’s underwear. the old wine we still have in the fridge.
