meta Mona

Metamodelized Mona held her skimper. The day was dairy deluxe. Her mere down suit on steppe of the Sorbonne ~ . In Paris, she helded her own box of magic chocolater her translation selving a sled to liking beauty past its game.

In mud she drag her butt. was but to if its doubled board to rate its song daffodiled by pleasure's rated boat. She rubbed her womb in continuing pleasure strong sortie story strong. Her catechism's made of nescient love putty flower . If noun hammered on her name was dirndled galore her glancing legs were caves galore.


prime numbers

my prime fuck and honey this way the honey hath flowed

The adventure into which I plunge them does not astonish them, but they live it out through acts, through gestures, not through thinking about it. In that way I can escape the danger of putting together a realistic narrative according to the usual methods by which each character knows what he's expressing at the very moment he expresses it, and knows the overtones that his expression should have on his protagonist and us... Mister G

speaking ta Franny and the girl.



He read the words in the magic golden goldeon and was amazed at their perspicacity and the Irish girl saying, it's obvious , it's obvious to sing on your head, and read with yer toes. but to laminate the sticks Now that is another ting! Altogether!

Nothing is easier than to familiarize oneself with the mammalian
brain. Get a sheep's head, a small saw, chisel, and forceps... and unravel the parts ... Guattari nodded asleep a drone on Deleuze's sleeve


Once on a time, a schizo time it was a pUblicker offerEd a Booke to a poet, but when it came time to tit-a-tit the publiker got scaredypants and peed and ran when the contract was due its past date of immanence and imminent peril. what then , became of the poet poster?

he blogged his fortune past the dogs heading foR the hills of hide and plenty mocking and knocking at many doors,

nothing worse than a poet who does not keep her word, replaced displaceD or otherwise

and then Mona,like Orpheus besidebefore her Knew that all was Hell.

in this bad bad bad world .


one and many guattari _ 1990

Mona calls to recall reading this reading this this reading reading this to you who see otherwise especialy a certain Mister Zizek and his seperationfantasy called Bodieswithout Organs, the wrongest book
ever hardly ever wrote. Ever hardly ever writ.
Mona Jill Frany leap in places planes of consistencies furling
finding forged their leap hear to hear it.
Merci a Isabelle Stengers


troops of I

Jill was Troops of I. Troupe of me us. Troupe de trope around the rope of her dancing self. as wise to become as to sail, or steam across the briny blue deep, its six billion leagues a laggard ten to down.


in that ward

In that ward of the body without the full earth cried her content. Or to wield her mighty gold she's weighed babes on bay her way bill covering ruthless -- is that a space of yield to wonder at her name. A threshing girl was her pulling wheat and felt her path clandestine as a calling girl over her countered collect. She missed this well kept character in flood. Peeled her shoes off as water falling glandular flapping as the well fed star. Is that your country? if she had a hollow thigh it was for this she rang the bell.

Interregnum interruption's her anatural mode of producing product her button baby. Ever notice that radio live in past track sentmental ? she note in her platonic knee thigh her lake as wish to her love upside down her face to face kiss. the other betray her. lie use to steal. call to money. trick. her. now over. to sent . hell. no friendship come from that.

shes gone into her double bed mode doublebacked lover. shes free as the liberty bell kiss her hug into her heart's landscape of delivery. her she come with her double self other me woman I to I in her ear's range of howl.