Wednesday, November 19, 2003

something resides in the downpour, the personal and capture. rare victims explain the process, tellingly right and speaking within the tropical need of their sentence. are you disappointed with these words? a person might ask, a place in the road. the road looks outsized, extending into Einstein's ideas, where rest is perpetual if not broken. we would ask for dramas, and ready spaceships confronting the most abject of exaction. a hobo flounces thru the comics page, then is told to get real. such a change in proceedings, and wanting to rectify the way language flops over itself, even as the aliens watch. thought turns the corner, stars make a difference in the picture held aloft. people are tired in their vagaries, tho chance remains number one. poetry pounds the beach with instant, tho the instant drags or disappears with telling. still, there's a bounty kind to carry. mangos fly to aid. just picture that, for starters.

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