I’m hearing voices in my head of the voices I am reading. How conversations are imagined and acted out. I forget where I am. Was it in a dream?
I am happy to say that I have unwrapped the gift of patience. Patience is what enabled me to keep you around until you turned the shoulder adobe.
You stand and we go. You follow and I know.
The curse of orange the orange moping around the patio. Peppermint, that’s the only line? Ring the round, then, glass the coat. Give the tops to the pratorn, the pautern, the part. Pat the linens, stroak the jackets, empty the ovaries, don the pillows and the curtains! For we are to entertain the wall-fairies of the blue and purple. The green and yellow, and the red, will vie for top places. Circle the socket, paddle the moar, rub the rock until it shines. Shine the boy, shoe the shine. Trinkets can’t be nuggets. No no.
And do you know, buffalo? No I don’t, loose goose.
Stack the vintage, martin the williams, shock the shirleys, iron the duffodils. Nip that oyster in the bud. Problems are for hermits, like houses are for crabs. Spot the harpsichord in the pageant and win a thousand yams. Best not to rule the buggy noiter-toiter, in case she goes down the spin-hole. Please police in the cabbage folio, the elevator is macarooni. She simplifies the meaning by backscratching the commandment in the loophole. The acrobatics of the equation will inform you of their intent to levitate. The gymnasium will cooperate to the fullest extent of the law, while the placard reflects the whitest whites. The black will absorb, and the grays will begin to think about the evils of their ways. The team will squeak the floors, rubber the air, and hem the audience with their sideways scowls. The hamster wheel will stop at lights out. The hand will encircle the arm with the pink sleeve, and the waves will crush the rocking horse, but not before the rocking house goes tippy toppy tover the little plastic limp. The parachute dived to the bottom of the cup only to find the best part was taken. Damn the principles, and moron the secondaries. I’ve had enough of this for the seventh lack of a parting. Don’t powderpoint that thing at me. Why in the devil didn’t I erase that potpourri from the dustboard? The smell of a fire, patched from the sky, with moon around the sides, a little extra cream, and no dishes. Why’s a line enough for a hat, but a nickel ain’t gonna bounce the ball back? In the land of poles and fish, what a world is this?--my last gasp is the strangest.
Is the output in the car? What about the problematic? I see the gentrification right here, in the future optional holder. The seats aren’t merry-go-round, I ain’t gonna lie. I did what she said, and the teacher reached her collar and chewed the cordoned film off the nook. Price told the damp, I hammed and pearled the moist, raked the tertiary, milled the hummus right off that thing. See how my vague blindness toasts the pulley. Plots are stuck together along the borders, but the patchwork is there. One way goes that, another goes the other.
Along the day placed the pillar, a basket full of pleasants. Say, did you forget to garnish the relative minor? Sometimes they stick in the pot. Yes. Banish the nuptials, I think it’s going to pain the rains to hear it. Good thing they sat all the way through the intentions. Informed quarantines host the pizzazz, really tailor the kin to the pint of mini. Speaking blade, blown the miss is hippie down to the south gulf bowl. Miss hurry will meet the tincture in the developing broth, capsized for two, and usher the unherded into the lip. Numb the needle before piercing. Forget the precision and split roast the rest of the dough. Flutters mistake bison for pike. In the wild, maybe at best we could tell each other what to do. The folds in there sweeten my blood. Suck and fritter, abjure the compasses. Only things you extraordinarily know. Sunrise to numbset, loon bites the dark.
Three piled below the aquamarine is a laminator. You gut the penumbra and copy the yacht, remembering to jump the millipede. Returnable cartons for the lovesick, but only if the coded verisimilitude confounds the tilted lilies. I remember back when I was knee socks, and grass hit the shorts with a thoomp. Polka was never it, and the frizz disappeared when the water was in enough. Water, water. If you mix it, it gets smelly. Put the others away, they are no longer needed. Be careful of the company, as the itch tends to grow when thought of. Left cheek, kiln eye pollen, out of my way. If you don’t like it, meditate. I wouldn’t even mushroom your rotting log if you grouted my cracking smile with the sentry’s scarf.
The rhythms in the sock are like ribbons on the water. The ceramic clink likes the glass for my ears to sing. Continuous, for if you stop, the elements stop. All cannot be paused without giving too much force to future motion. Caesura spectrum to the prism beholder: divide the background wish with the straight line screw and twist, putting the insert in between. Plus all the other, lamb chop, cushioning and standing one in, or else.
Not all of it, a flat version, really, but it’s a start. Who wouldn’t indulge in some keeping back. My gravity is not what it used to be. Why don’t you proportionalize the acceleration and summarize the incubation. Pedal to the medal, I on the surprise. Horse bats plunk crowded batons. Etch copper and lime tardies. If the shakes, let them grasp and hold on, take and keep on.
And so Alex walked along the river in the town where the Vs ran out. Expect him to have at most eight of those strings he’s carrying, and the shoes to match. The trees are almost in bloom and the green is all around. It’s a bit blurry but he’ll make it through, among the vines, swinging.
