Jack & Jill
vs. The Hill
were at the
Jewel Bee
Jubilee.
Which is
just a jest,
a silly way
to say any
thing be
sides today;
anything ex
cept last
night + the
deep and bitter
end of the
night before
vs. The Hill
were at the
Jewel Bee
Jubilee.
Which is
just a jest,
a silly way
to say any
thing be
sides today;
anything ex
cept last
night + the
deep and bitter
end of the
night before
last. A joule
is a unit of
electoral,
magest
erial and
thermal
under
wear,
some
thing
shiny
and
bright,
worn
skinny, it
is but one
attempt
to broach
an identity,
like that of
you or that
of me. I’ve
magest
erial and
thermal
under
wear,
some
thing
shiny
and
bright,
worn
skinny, it
is but one
attempt
to broach
an identity,
like that of
you or that
of me. I’ve
taken this as
metrical, a
unit of squealy
property, this
freakin’ lout
of a day. Fort
of a day. Fort
unately it is
fairly abnormal
fairly abnormal
(No? It is not!),
but about a quarter
but about a quarter
of an inch magical,
the lips of which are
not madrigal. & here
is a side-fantasy: when
shouldn’t there be
a day when the
Mrs. of which stands
shouldn’t there be
a day when the
Mrs. of which stands
at the ready, right here
on Barbary Lane? Oh,
how I do so very much wish
it true, just so I could say hello
through all of this
haywire! But that un
plain Olympia who never
intended to be climbed
like a San Francisco hill
but lovingly embraced
into, engulfed, in a
floaty way like
How Sweet Is
My Valley (a con-
fusion of a story
about the state
of Tennessee and the
flick by John Ford
and, yes, even like
the rich and mellifluent
voice of Tennessee
Ernie Ford). All in all,
you do the math, a for-real
day approaching — but
never equaling — the
entire previous year
of them. Yep, and
did you know,
well, of course you
did, that individually,
we’re each + all
~80% H20. And as united
as we may stand, we are
never (please do under-
stand), not ever, (listen!)
undivided. No matter
our individual stances.
In fact, me being me
(that’s me=me; and this
is, please, just between
you + me and me + you) is
it true, just so I could say hello
through all of this
haywire! But that un
plain Olympia who never
intended to be climbed
like a San Francisco hill
but lovingly embraced
into, engulfed, in a
floaty way like
How Sweet Is
My Valley (a con-
fusion of a story
about the state
of Tennessee and the
flick by John Ford
and, yes, even like
the rich and mellifluent
voice of Tennessee
Ernie Ford). All in all,
you do the math, a for-real
day approaching — but
never equaling — the
entire previous year
of them. Yep, and
did you know,
well, of course you
did, that individually,
we’re each + all
~80% H20. And as united
as we may stand, we are
never (please do under-
stand), not ever, (listen!)
undivided. No matter
our individual stances.
In fact, me being me
(that’s me=me; and this
is, please, just between
you + me and me + you) is
something like the factoid that
broke the camel’s back and
was found the very next day
in a haystack — that is a pair
(or so) of facts. More
to my point, I think:
charity persists, cherries
are picked (and are full of
the pits) and chastity;
well, that’s a bust.
Isn’t this all no-
thing but my inevitable
attempt at jubilance,
after all? Even here,
stuck at the very bottom
of my heart like a pit,
was found the very next day
in a haystack — that is a pair
(or so) of facts. More
to my point, I think:
charity persists, cherries
are picked (and are full of
the pits) and chastity;
well, that’s a bust.
Isn’t this all no-
thing but my inevitable
attempt at jubilance,
after all? Even here,
stuck at the very bottom
of my heart like a pit,
I heave out a salty Hooray!;
and do not forget a Yip Pee!
