if there was one there was 2 too ~

Jill "The passage from one flow not to replace facing the a public sexuality, a commune sings the sun. repertitioning her petition. Beseech the beech. What fleece tears the coat she bear. She bear grizzly temporary maids huffed by cunning stowaways round her port. Not starboard to her thinged tip. Repeat. Repeat. Repear, shaving around the apple peel. Mona rubbing her saying that it is the water that lacks the animal_______________ bababaaaaaaaaaaaa black sheep not balance shit. Ina double room Franny hold her : people are takingthe breast, She has a poetry : So you don’t thinsonally, for the secrrrrreettt term “secret” we dont care very much, she screwed in advance.

NO One can speak

my boy: inIn the white tower she's held hang with king and sipping prince her piemory-screens.

take the

_____________ the back
the back

"cut the picture down
the line of the middle _body escapes"

(or the face moves off) (the midriff calibrates)

Lamb's tail?

What was Lamb's tail? a tale for lambing the chops of lambikin? or love's gruel after din-din? the din of the pound city

------------------------------it was infinitely small.micropeccatin ~ like alice shrinking with doctor deleuze down the cone looking glass ~ beveled to her mirrored self. ~


Come now saying Mona

Come now say Mona St. Vitus dance or macabre they go, sword swinging lashing its hour of bacon. Merely the back out of the winding filly its worse scenario's cuss and whinny . She shout out her back at the back s.v.plait yer milk's sour.

She forgetting the cool wind of avalanche. The excellent sea-sipping tornado. This fool's been buried previously as anyone knows its outwitted canker. Is the dear blowzy or floozy to her mendicant sump? She's got a hearing aid round her in camera salty baker. Turn that knocking thing nob (her everyman jack's gone bandanna not banana ),her crunching varicose vein (very coarse! very close! Oh~ hush~)knows the knob is televisual screen.

------------------ Jill waking in a ditch as always. Not usual to her roused self she's bruised to her musty way. She's blinking beside horns of plenty, and her lips slaver. Yes, she slaver like any hopeless bitch.

Will wont work, she's had bloom blossom before and knowing the difference's made her itchier. Good morning dear fauna, yer plate is difference tied to chiaroscuro .



She's guffed before. Guilded her arrow in sorrow's passage. Not mined or fortuned by ray and betrayal. but mattered by returned song. its marriage mattered to the mate bust turned. returned its ovarian runner up. bust between the coign and voice sighing Do we go? shall we move on. it was her fairest wish, blustered to her key.

glass eyed Mona ~

ill living in the bottom she chew. She mark the page of its perforated edge. This has has passed the razor, splintering its quiet . Not Grecian but urged by fancy she's legal tender to her era. Her drive's not subject or object but partial to her organ, If particles artfully consider the winding control of breezes shes semi-wise to her pattern. But its timbre is something contrived, her voice, the rage of ancient way and reverent today. She's past her bottle keening along her idiom not forth in line but west to her always gang of pretend.

In preening her pert and pretty way, her arse's queen to gods. She has every geology down fat! She's weared them all to hide! and she don't mean embyronic leather !~.

In the white tower she's held hang with king and sipping prince her pince-nez glinting off shadowing eye. At the opera it's lorgnettes for a dapper vignette of amour and history as seen in the 18 the century, and the population doubles. Her wheat is tarry to her folio favour. A soughing prairie afternoon.

Mona's gaff is trouble by nobody. If she has troubles they're visitors in the pane of mirrored hand and paper to screen her calling.




all of which



even the knights 'cracked' over love affairs and favours refused. the armour of the knight is merely the most exteriour surface of his 'amour'.



in shizo parlour. parlance. its like that. cut right of f the side. yer middle bearing straight. hopes for hades. rag time baby and the city model. not a body but a waking trumpet ~

this way she send the merry knight her case

hasty as any wind
winding down from th at bad novel
her life

deteriorated like a slumber jack by jack
and every woman Jaqueline her number ~