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Friday, August 20, 2004 possible. it's any posture. we're
all said and saying. here's my chapeau. that's an argument but this is an avocado. positive. yr posse makes mine look silly. i always.
and insist finally. these powerful. these eddies. wilting. and grown flavorful. while you. you while. well. it may be an old madness. begin a purpose.
clear and reason. talk like a real person. don't veer. tell me is today. is today a good day to veer. from the person they know you. are. the person they know. if all the trucks go seventy. you go sixty-five. you wussy guy. which fences we're watching. i'm a clear and reasonable. i'm folding thoughts back into clothes. for veering. good day for purposes like farms. you sold them to the trucks. and go. Thursday, August 19, 2004 ten minutes in the same key. fact.
one note. while the blues. holed up a kingsnake democrat. our grim acetone shoes. our squinting. sun-fed validated maybes in the get down. get back. mush. of
breathing water. as hard language. you want to describe. as if. we had a sight. we took you for dinner. to the artist's plank. and it stood up to the drills. we drank shop. looking for a dun style. not beige but formal. dessert and pomes in bullet bright evening. Wednesday, August 18, 2004 what threat. we sleepy tremors.
bombs and cutting. go off as voluptuous green. in my voice which isn't. an ode. a puddle cane. a blimp. a degenerate yes. i'm pretending
i don't know what i'm pretending that you. these rude knots want more. i'd give. brooklyn for a day. really obscure and fermented. twenty-five bucks enclosed. weren't you
ready to follow my limbs to the next translation. theater has an internal charm. it makes an earnest poetry. that we can follow as a given volume of virgil follows. night. Tuesday, August 17, 2004 being happy
in yr wardrobe silk woven in a shack being happy underwear. bring a nuisance out here. what you wanted. i meant. being a lasso in poplin. calling light to the screen. digging the crazy queen. pardon me
polite. yours come around for time. beans in my belly. hot pepper in my shoe. all mercy falling down the razor line. mine is forty. mine is twenty-nine. all courts say so. says so. a conversation
the brute tongue. changes. a chat conventional. in fiery spaces. wouldn't you go there. here we've got birds. the sky supposes i'm new. a single bright rope of useful breath. as index of. Monday, August 16, 2004 not knowing well. mine useless
or wounded. intelligence offered a way to rivers vines blood. i was innocent as a guilty last effort. swamped in the battle. here they bring the lies for burial. thin rites. isn't it just like you to project yourself into the rocks. doctor says. wasn't we
always. in pieces at the best places. known for our monsters & colts. unreasonably shuttered. virtually. convinced to juggle happy or grim. i was next in the bouquet. i was bright. is what i
do. you shooting stars. can't you see me crying. i'm all contrite & metaphysical. a lover down the big top. all cinematic as free and determined. it's what i do. you clamoring steeds. apace. a well of grass. i'm sinking as a tough. believer. as he sinks. Sunday, August 15, 2004 ticklish. the spatial requirements.
of a sonata. a bright corridor. some stairs to lumber down. it takes the time it takes. and no one wonders why. i stood inside where the rain came. then you. ghost. you... with. fingers not... a why. and useful
touch. at dusk the information lost. we called it pointed recklessness. or mad for new circles. strokes to sun. or surface to parch itsy-bitsy delight. a boy's red bluster. his own. Saturday, August 14, 2004 were we dancing last. were we the
air in our tires gone all nervous. a fizz or a whistle near the end of saying. the roof flies off. the galaxy piles in. us. if you post
a philosopher. and id. going to sleep. if you hurry home for cabbage or killing. alone. if you gouge a thumb's length because lightning. then i'm partial. to yr credible mayhem. blinder. which drifted
or dared me to combine. this but that. all is something. hurrah! the pretty ascends like snow. stupor of cinders. my grit goes howling light. back to finish your phrase currently |