And an accent


a body's a flow but what if there's no body? Jill posing . A somnambulist in the night.  would the care

of one make a difference to two? care of the two is one thing working forward to its prayer. but a

rhyme says more than a thought under these circumstances. a sat stances working the night whose

page's gone awry in the suit. the suit of one knight to another in the paralyzed virtual which is immanent to the thought actual.

 come back to this return.
  a wayward castle in the    pawning.



 Mona feels the warn/ a wary eye to term that dont revent their date as follow to the unusual

One has to be careful caring full of  ,  not to,,   gget  caught with the fancy terms  ,,, and the capacity o th
         academic machine                                and the false prolifteration of terms

    Jill sat her down kicking out the differend end end end end end end end the fidelity difference

  one gets tired of the backward reusing   of the G. gyre terming One has to be two an inventor

not about but the things themselves as their very invention    _______in the mulislumming of creation boom

Not   againthat start of it working toward a thing    try it  __a t the very invention of the many

                                  fin/ fan/      cocatoo brilliant tanging


|| personifictation

____________Jill has the shillyshallys and's run and has run  is run, running, not a mouth a, a gerun?
dives where you spill the beans between thieves.

 personifictation my lover did you hear sea bump, grind , oomph against my his nonphonemactic unprounceable word that man with silver bowl absent to the teeth of F? O bess of my boom she saith rid me of this thingping   ~ her bubble bum doublejointed lover bongbongbong atrain ringing its southwest last 





Jill's h m b ugged head 's  no closer to detail th an the one before previo usly

'if not was there another spot for her to go bog? of this typewriter she's heard of
clinic and critical but her amaze was a gift of not paying attention the
inessential .'

now if no body has love that's it the pickin' g for nothing

What ass knew better this than the graciousest knight? spouted for prayin g & bayin '.



No one


No one's seeen these___ awkward pennies make dicks run ___ ruins Mona, as the alphabet sea of love. Knows and walking to the store shows your glance gallery a making up one two four and you're gone ~.

Alongthe heels of the pea
Mona heard the moon clothes line hung dry.
Like any weather son she's married to none.

  Open your sea! chest you ragged street walkers!

________________ Gone! Poof! poof! Jill cries the anymore   ~.


these those


 Does your transcendental ego dance the way your normal ego does? does it work that way phenomenologically? does a  bird stare at the air? do monkeys grab feet? what is eating ?

   how does a  church bless passersby?

    Questions Mona asked while reaching for the Sartrean paradox. No one has ever heard of this word.
Nor its dog night. heart felt

   And what of the others? If  god was the immanent beast of the  small s and the little s then lovers had made distance a way of life.

Mona grappled the paradox  suffering the anguish in her body hold.

A hold was  a place in a ship where the goods were kept. So it went with she and others.

But others were the other in the mirror of reality transcending its affixed name. 

___Jill backed down the boat looking for the calm water of still styles.

But the womb felt fatal and aching she was alone. As his alone.




_____                  _____________________

 Encamped across crisscross the plain: Eidolon___ and the dead woman . blank dead weight wooden stare.
a bulged bag of sac. is this obscure to her pretense the deathly conceit her cone shite, deathly on her arse.

Not so this Mona who's thus to her loving curtsy!

if jill has  a shire then it's a hit a hut a village for bodies to raise their  wings, weaving to the raining sun and the rising flare of its sun and shine before there holding its back bare branch forfent   ~.

id And libido escape this simple plum. but broken on the treble clef they're escape d the already shaped things that are said to be expression.
 Now jill cant creep her way through . this trew and thoroughfare.
  A shrill meaning to each priority as the band wordless to its daring. Molecules aship ahoy! The pan man and rain woman her feathers to keep daring summers of her winter cry.



Mona_____________ been ....


ill who's not been ....

 Fanny, don't bum my tits, you braggart! Infantile trains and derricks to ramshackle yer hoists, infernal conates sisphyean swish anatomical rapscallions. English is her e_name and love's biting ass her tame ruby-shipping rump. Hunkers to slaver over were the boys pantalons. Not mister nymph and her eleven by forted hexameters.

Could i t become odd thing to rest the twig of  a  tree?  as with  the tiked accent its bodied  imperative self/



Mona's remora. You will see. Hear its . Not . then Or to say. Hear. Its again. Not. a fear. A trifle. Nay a mouthful. a spring back to tense. See to its hearing. No, earring.  A fruit borne to stable any harvest. A butch gone hair cul de sac. Not a narrative clearing. A cuffed out purge. she's worn the half-won and cost peer.

Over the last felt thing it's a race to the fifth. A plate and more her worn away salvo.
And bears the blue. A king done by night and rest.


o this is where


              Is this  as Jill hears the panting persona? a thimble, a tumble, a thumb on the highway postcard. Rain on the  strata on the road, a side peer vision. And rumbling along to the ~ place between ~ a form  a rent riding along that road. she's heard everything  a ho ho a howdy-do the monkey lady do the watusi. A sample, a shamble and a step and what's that comma doing around your mouth? 

                           Apricot coconut the coeval ocean shaping its rusty claim this mounting fridge the wave of blue air, a cape, a pen, again then reckoning. 

                                           Caution to merit its own daze.

     Around the pavement ....     Jill  ...        ...  patter of silver . No, a pattern of glitter. Not that, glimmer. Said hum to mouth. Jill stammering her Celt. 

    Murmured to its rustling tent. out to later, back again time.



the ... characters in those book


you  toi that is,  see the schizophrenic delay begins. things get caught removed scattered
                                                         between here and there headache eyes eyes you peoples idears. idea r. I dear is .
                                       As night witch broom holds the frost to the coming tide

                                               does trusting tristan tzara meet rainer maria rilke in the sonnets to 
                    orpheus? did 
he read them writing?

rill and tata______________________________
it s the middle of her thighs

does not the trick
not hatred
the glare
of there


________________________________she left radio villemaria heading home  as the bridge wearing her heart 
down  came upon the lover hanging there

recalli ng

the night 


of her extreme pleasure



the airplaine of immanence

 Sat. slat salt that plane. air plane. fault line flat space of immance. And jill bottom loined bitter-bottom line retold rebooted the crinkly line and . Huffed her puffed house up. She's not immanent nor eminent to the something-else transcendent. But a bucket of wheat! and her hail-down self.  How can she unthink what she's thinked. In the kitchen sink. nah, not like Rachel, nor the seven dwarves of that sleeping dame. There's nothing, there aint a thing between her and its nothingness beside.

____________________La Treasure La Transcendent. A between book memory of her pirate self, alongthe driftplay of her body seized by every harbor. Her pert self, the lover.

Inside and outside of every thought, a mobius  cut connecting her purpose with hre vision  divine becoming. Not Russian nor Byesexual but a brilliant achievement along the forelane of what's thought.

  • ___________________________________________________________ On this plane she's heteorsexual to her truest miraculating and the schizz field of floweing thunder.A  woman's asssoften cheeky.Horny and ambitious? Perhaps she's a sweated harlot in the buttock of feat and defeat. To every sender that ever was.

_______________________ Now a memory from the theophantic day. A perhaps around the buzz of flower. A wasp shrinking an orchid and a byway into the Out.


No one becomes this    ~ way.

_________________________________ First  becoming you nibble her feet. then her coat, her hat stand.A stag antler to holding up the posse.
  Reckoning in this way, that, no one stands.



our knot come home


So Doctor Deleuze has it on the spin, and the adhesive and the reckoning roll of her hardrockening buttocks, nor the sand of her ribbed  vacuum the vane of delight    ~  Over this intensity and rainbow spoken lover, unspoken thought of her charming dot. Not foresought nor forsworn but pleasure by every greed and tempering. She rose to the plateau of its microthought silly to her naval tongue  ~ .

Yer not every other thing   ~ indeed O song of knight. Composing your ring, clomping over lower case letters and lover. Indeed of bow and sprint spring and other lovers. Their double faced bodies and some. Handsome hamadryad of the deteriorating deterritories ~ and the stories of fetlocks and their naves, rotten dying o f her their own disease as the shuttering mockery continues. AS the prayer. 

You're not every other thing either    ~. 

You're not between each thing   ~but you are each thing, the rose, stone, pebble, groan,                                               her check, the family allowance and memory's peacocked frame. However, howsomever only one and two are true .As the plumb line varies 

Cadence to its knocking back flood. She wears minny skirts to low brow conferencing calls... waking the flutes of thing as she   ~ .


                            And opening your oboe every  pose remaining   ~.


Jill has a whip

Jill has a whip pseudomasochistic  ~her belly  the underarmour of its . And she's told the others too that consistency planes do not break the intensities of the curling plateau. But what more?

She needs to be wants to be punished. it thrills her to hear the whip whacking her clear arse of round void   ~ whack! (and) she cries! she cries!
 the sting!
of it hurting    ~ her she 's freed to cry out held by the glooms of forest   ~ and amber is a dark tonight.
Oh god she says how I love it's feel across my ass especially when youtouch me torch meafterwards
and I am roaded to extreme by your pleasuring me    ~O how my mouthbody screams    ~. That way she feels the punishment enduring solid reasonable   ~ cared to the body she is    ~ .
and rocks its sodom its solemn double ending needle to her pointed shaft. A curse to her loaming self.

'Jill and her tousled hair double lover to the mix max page jeep and  readies her double lover glitch the campaign arising from   cellar mates kerning and keening    ~. It's an Irish way and its barrowing along country roads and lanes does the trick   ~ triumphant as any Knight her riding boots got pins and rimed tires caps that sparkle in dark after moon showing   ~
                            its the trip for the heroes of this chapter :

Mated by bullion socks. Levees and burning lakes and property lost along the nuclear lake. Not of silence and disposition but of the world created storm, a gathering muscle of penetrating fogs manacling the peace of the earth.

                 Jill's sleeping the repose of wicked paternal nature. Mona has her number in feet. In       extraterrestrial numbers. By the fog wain night. She's  a page to her squire's love. His body forked to her double tuned love   ~   hunger.  Restless to its keep.                       Challenged to  fate   ~  . Dared to its face  ~ .


Someone said I not me you Not you me Not I not I not  I .'


                           Advised from another condition she wears the saddle. Heap to her downy ass and drowned sailor pelf. And. In his way, she's hers. her always ever   ~ .

_________________________Founded in Greece and solemn Rome    ~.



Saint schizlow

_____________Stamp the letter on your forehead   ~  ._______Mail here to the point of memoir .

Mona's mash-up call it that. Those days of night as evening passes its precipice. Phillip of Sardinia is that one .. an island its witch called a... broom a board an iron ...

Not irenic nor ironic she's tabled the foursquare meals of the moon. Lapping the sudden beauty of their long legged revelation. The beauty of those Berri de Montigny women. Long legged as any loon rivalling buttocks reeling in
the spin of their talking.

Mona! talk to me! saying this way that way word to word mouth breast to plated breast kept abreast by her ovaries overture     ~ 

 Mona reeling from plateau to plateau .... plato to plato relish to reel is that factotum back yet ? yet back to back its dumpy cloud form shuttles her hands . Clad in silk and dungaree, she's best a breast girl to the rest , the remainder you cunning thing!

__________________________halt to her dangerous beauties . She's sleeping with another womean. O mean of the platitude of forsaken nights and gift. By donation and pleasure's the exclusive one. To say nothing of her synonymiques     synonymous measure. Nor the doubting thomas of her restless query.

if any waiting waitress loves it's she. the one of th perpendicular hat. An d her tray and soft heels. Booted to the calvary of restive forks and plates. Caps to go gown too   ~.

_________________________________________Since she's free there's no one there to tell     ~.