Sunday, January 30, 2011

Wednesday, January 26, 2011


Pride cut the tin with a gape so wide you could skin the chin with a few extra x's or w's. The gills were pent, however; upways/downspiraled... tantric shells beading into little scrapes next to the tear ducts, a difficult task to be certain, and a nail gun spray followed requisite.

Ages and yellows, the byron felting process coughed two tone grey and elf. Kicking sand had a cannibal affection: skinny legs and soup arms were telling enough; trolling barbaments slurred their french so pored that only a ping of ice descent could park the tenure and shab the way. Pardoned harks, arks, dollies on hairied partchedment, more of the singing-- little denizen, ochre all ovened against.

You could cable sting your way to the icing, sure sure. Dancing lummox and pridery brides: everyone had noting nothingless to wail sayings with; and with this christening gel, we were bound.

Two or threw mired three hired chalks. A saying was as bureaucratic as it could fell, and doing so, I could tell we were lunch. The crabs would sign up from their fattening pens, and once gathering steed, would lunge en mass to sire cuts, lancing their mandibles like a threshing fold, burying all tale within the telling; ever-mentioning a hiss of mastication gnash with foaming teeth, and tired of the truth.

These all be it's a brim. Bored dumb set forth while shawns worked the till entity until button pressions caved to a thirdly hemisphere formation; a circumspect new organ along due frontal lobe or ear. Hadworthy, a fired-up gal, made appeals to the cripes, but no dice dither: we were all, we were none, we were tools oxidating each other, in the sun/by the by/trainwreck candor applied. Keeping teating, someone mused. And we did. Or rather you did. The eyes were too proud.

(eyes used for tooth support)

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Done dining and cling

You did it. Vocalizations were met with bits of carnival meats and the whips of youth-- immature boys, mostly. See, they all rode shotgun, piled atop like stacks of cork, jammed it in leftways heft with fingers in each others' smug piehole 'pon viaduct, gasping and ape-able, bonded cementimental in surely secured tucks and shirtless ashen plugs of science-blue tubing, coiled coitus and braying to a sleepwalker fellowship, made visible from aerial snapshots as a distinctive linear strata, much like bowels or leaning to a pore of circular insets, types linking one to one to navel to ass like sausage links or kidney dialysis, unfettered by their connectivity, writhing like a jacob stuck in the jowls, husks of psoriasis filling the mouths with carbon diaspora, sponged and weeping in line with bad telephone connections or porn piles, senate meetings, commerce representatives and the fates, lice-induced podium stammers, peculiar to petulant preening, agua con gás, interludes with plurality, save for same sex hexes and unquestionable loyality, crystalline and quivering matches and swatches of pulsing skin beads letting loose the corduroy occasion via visas of passage and milk, censors all in each other, a humble tuck of rapping pig loin and ribaldry, congrats as well, later out of phase with the parallels and screaming chides and rodentata residential mourns of lawning banners, sure-wins-against, forlorn save illusionary devices akin to shadow boxing, portraits of steadfast ibex, corsair, and avarice; man what a lull to be at the vortex of such a roar-- with the rice and sheep thricewhile corning and crapping through decided steeping methods and calendar midriffs there to bare teeth and molars to take it to a sinewy glance that would glaze over with drums of backhands, reversals, petty returns, and the steady-on raspy tongue of eerily anglican voices, cocking the sight with that broadcaster sidewind monocle fluff, puffing chests inward to such an angle that it was loathe to be, albeit valiant, with galls hallowed to gallant waves in chevy and indigenous thefts, vases and such, knocked and horseback tapes all roundabout and unwound just slightly off their beacons and dire warnings of bumpry and snow, worn cracks and colon releasings, savored in liasons, handjobs maybe, or arse inclined quickmarches, taught to a pattern of fraternity, packaged ivory, saggings bereft of tagged photo-tom map-peeps of hideaways by catheters and senator's sons settling in with secretions, detergents, whitewashed and polished, run through and though foul, to by jesu-miracle sense, appear cleansed--a mild soup of wheatgerm or whey, pissed thin with horehound, pinch hits, orphans, and stuck with a layer of pageantry sans forms of the calm brought about through ovulation, these outlaws they were, by the pallet or truck, while joined in their crossroads and deep unstoppable pedigry, found footing still nimble, and while hardly wry, beat the facts down with enough irrigation to avert the punishments of hypocrisy, gaudery, and congress, dried up to a most impeccably austere saline horizon, raped clean by jawless appetites of lamprey and leech.

(eyes used for tooth support)

Sunday, January 16, 2011

take it on lightly

you take it on lightly you take it on fresh skin there take in on lightly buttered seat pants you gonna dare shore you gotta hook the dodger you gotta bring back the continent put it into place sooo very lightly got pipe fittin' pants and straight to the liver with ya nice habit entrail pardon the stink you said twelve claps later you'd find the fertile rub like a hand to the sharkskin backwards full of cuts lettin' out precious fluid lettin' out like a cat tongue hackin' hands slaps the many well it's wood afterall you didn't took five more six more eight more forgot the ssstool used it for kindling unnecessarily apologetic it was an antique picked a few more off posterior rind picked a few more off poster baby gotcha glamorous all enshrined in pencil rubs like you did a piece of toilet paper and the beach stones looking for rubs of former faces and the century prior mebby it's just a childhood memory that had nothin' to do with the fouling of mouths washed up tight with ivory washed and flossed with ol' siren scope your first love your first love handled your mouth with fingers and tucks you in told you not to hold your privates all night here's a matchbox car instead and you wake up and it was broken damn damn damn seven twelve nine seven twelve nine seven twelve nine a lady

tube idea

Had me a day at the headphones, recording sizzles, blurps, weezes, and such. So, 'pon many a listen, follow-up, and remix, I got to staring at an old painting I'd rumpled mebby ten years back. She sits in fronta' the teevee, right between the wide split stereo speakers in my listening den-- she's there as kind of as a covering; a better thing to stare at, and well, she's an old friend, after all. So a couple of neato voice recordings had me REALLY staring at her-- maybe I'm craving it, I dunno: vagina, distended orifices, happy brown pocket dots, ripples, teeth, smiles, winks... got me to draw'n her. Hard core. Many times. It's an old art school trick: thirty second drawing-- GO! And so, thusly got digimatized, more sounds added, and thereafter the sketch lives on... animated aquedunkers: the tube-gal.

umbre appraoi sment

Nothing to mew or measure but bigots and blobs. Two four seven having had their requisite lengths in tow, the further resignation abetted this whetting sense and trial era; two shades too shy and sheered merry from the winding roads and willy-nihilnon of procks and pues, said you, to gander whence well, the good was a imperative outthedoor. Ol' shucks had his two four in there too, in three amounts, just a bit pink of the real goal (and she rhymed gangs with heaven). It could take if you caught it, but the gummer mints had their say in this too; reason puddles and demonstration cramps, man, were they tiring it all out like a dry coral pee or the less than brittle feeling of glands expelling burrs from tracts and perjury trence. Foll fine hisp ondata and crell. Them's a yape and or yeop hope and lode; fatherly with spry hance, lessoning lights, carlboro creameries, and the tasty whelp of vaccination and pax scenery. Pits and broken lassoes, tellied up and over humps, dunderdumps, cary pecks, jesuine lightning holdtoovers, and a spiel in rutch or homance languals, riding the rib of pome and loetry, songs-sonna-canted, and feasible crams for all. Trees bided on the swell, a rolling hush that rifled into surf and sea scarves and the arps of avant guarding throughout the desert canopy and fields of holden and amarillo pest and pleasing. Pith antes and lisps in quells; olde shimmy-up new to this, on the fisk and tolden-such and spree, had to groan, but spangledoitch sherry and such, had the hutch and happenstance to circumwise the rosarine and cloffing deans within the miles set forth of hardenings of statesmail, nsa, holly hordes, and mogul tumbing/rake-a-bakes (often shoft of hines seventy five and four-lordes lover bakey, laps-rep, five and eleven peaks of the gates and peterpaul hath drone out and out with punchy pouches of marsupe varietal, nuances heft into glades of spunk, restrooms, and cottony runs lain next to the side-by-each stratum for the highway pried friars to get heavy and manded with heaps of dewy-phases and eyes of little bops, table am'ners, and unlikeliable creeds); it was, after all, a tableau of you-all and hater late gestations, minded tries with the gedding, stoned babes, crimson heirs, and pussyfootery teary ires and pelladom loops, quite the stational wreck, as one could maginehold jeering, and mild lightly, to the touch sho' shine.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Ado over tinder and the extraordinary D. Colt; magnificent necktie and the historic chat re. broad Jeffersonian smile

Ripe can door county steep appeals for.
Shoehorn mansion.
Saison deerling.
Mush (not much).
Bulleteers below & bellwhoops aside.

(eyes used for tooth support)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Order of the day

Exhibit A. More sacrifices would have to be made

Exhibiting B'zus: (yes abused for tough supposing-you-were-wringing-your-hands/or for &/or awful ides and/well, Chuck, a moment of Pancho)

Haig kibbutz C, bromide bray gun...

(I sewed the sow's barbarossa for ilk heart news sage 'ency; begs visit D)

Monday, January 3, 2011

new years

It WAS a noisy new year, however this was also accompanied by some gang violence two houses away from the venue. Shot were overheard; several kids got injured and one died. It turned into a rose bowl parade of cops as a result. Fortunately they arrested the bastards, which is little solace to the dead girl or her family or friends. Whole damn block was taped down for hours. We found some near-misses in the upstairs windows, too: two ricochet marks where bullets had bounced.

(eyes used for tooth support)