Thursday, October 26, 2006

Coldplay may be there, but don't count on it.
Instead:
In the year 2033, in the middle of an avalanche on the rocky side of Miami, sixteen bald bearded women will sally forth into the brightest part of the DMV and declare galactic festivities open. if you happen to be among the chosen few to be available for comment at the moment, smile tilt your pen to one side cough up a storm and bear up against the wind. For they will bring tidings from a future already begun. For they will tear you a new gun from the space-hole. It's your turn to rank the movies. Climb onto a table and speak of your allegiance to the nuveau mothmen. Cap any medicine bottle and gain five experience points.
if you can't find your dentist's number at that very instant, worry not. it is all a part of their plan. (I know, I have 16 filing cabinets on the matter.) Pancakes, lots of pancakes. Then renter monkey. Buy your renter monkey. It will guide your ailing softsoaker.
Stop playing the blame game. Corey haim will needle you for being the last one chosen for the basketball team. he himself is 37 years too old for the little leagues.

Friday, October 20, 2006

Gas

This time around I've found my milky way
This time around I've found my financial planner
It's an ape around here. It's a real prognathic bow.

Wild westons wanton
Wild westons wanton

To be screamed in between my breasts nightly I dose
Catching more stills than canvas we breathe
In cordiality I'd urge an invite among death bodies

We throw
Betrothed

mass for mikey

fig09226://

all things will converge from fleeting
when green metallic cattle start stomping the earth out hoove by hoove;

payment for all the steaks they've deposited in the human psyche
my name isn't turkey, like.

cocaine with maria

;aldgo82://

how do we shoot some cocaine with maria?
how do we shoot some cocaine between her toes?

how do we shoot more cocaine with maria?
how do we shoot more cocaine between our toes?

Thursday, October 19, 2006

blow-up nasal spray

new mangled faces,
half dangling words
sad traces of whispers on the autumnal air
holy sepulchral grace favours,
can't stand the lack of last laughs and past shore masts.

A green haze directed towards sunless joys
silent driplets and droppages,
casting furtive lances at inward boils,
blankness in their eyes,
they see through me.
Into the distance.

Stymie. Nice word. Nice. Tasty.

Monday, October 16, 2006

Gray's mutation, it's a log hunt in parts of thy neighbor

I requested an aberdale but upon the arrival of a matter entirely obscured by crowds I divested in nomenclature of cladistic studies. A tree-for that matter, a gape or agape. Make your mark I say, it's the world of plenty. Plenty of goodness in a quest of digestion and digression.

Are we focused?
Are we in tune with our kelp matter?

It was Betsy's cloth that first appealed to me. My tongue licking, tastebuds abrasive but purposeful, I noticed a swink scarf in a heap of ashes. "What a dandy," I thought...then just as now but for relapse amid aged atmospheric pressure. It was that high low orange shanty with an amber glow. It was the fading luminescence of the number 3 that first appealed to my sensory deprivation. Upon landing, all shades of jaundice reminded me of mother but without touch I merely had eyes and noses. A plastic rim could call forth my memorable gaze aloft in its 'nature'; aloft in its chest. A cavity for the connoiseur.

Breathes of breathless gales
I recall fondly my Cantina glory.

Friday, October 06, 2006

no, not what you're thinking, but still quite clean

adjlgio76y2://

herron, NJ 6:06 p.m.

pavlov's lincoln went into the shop ta-day as scores of funny laughing chaperones watched on idly with their collective lazy eye. disenchanted member population 1 in the crowd was none other than the pot-pouri himself, ruskin the task master. yes seree. his backlog was about to be filled as we say in the old country. a little sumptin sumpin to thump the bile by. well, that's all one could ask for in these automatic ottoman philosophizerist days we're enduring. i say bring back the days of grommets and we'll all be safer. morley, that is. what ever happened to him or the pilgri-maw-jace: french for catylist carabeaner. i'm not quite sure.

nabors

de-grassy nolan ryan