Saturday, March 06, 2004

posible syllogism smooths past
grant mercy
pose fund rile
boon docket cluster
slug fame jam bug

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theory renegade drapes

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jets mark platitude,
wick of boss

earning power membrane
blender rhyme

portait hieroglyphic
tunes out patience

bundles slur over
marveled nouns

the weakest verb
in the universe

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Friday, March 05, 2004

network HEADS 

present call over the most single of words. it wants indentation, or field of commas, or a dash to end a phrase that was a potato field suddenly, and Maine can't be pretty this time of year. read over news and Mike's Song, and a dot clears my throat, if no one else will listen. an alien calls the present tense, and West Virginia calls the past, because that is how we work. we can all be what's left when you are David and nothing left to write. talk in the gulley and strides toward the theatre. a creaking town awaits. there seems like news in each web strand. stay on topic, like John Kerry versus George Bush in the end of aftermaths. read about opinion. pull community from the edge and tell it about a poem in one day. advert aNTHONY kIEDIS as the pressure from within. token references to Emily Dickinson will be Gertrude Stein in the end. that is, the power lies.

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Thursday, March 04, 2004

rage on children finding faultlines, the tales render themselves. and the fashion of poetry as cattle prod for intellect goes across worlds of parity. that community remembers its own. it pays a price, restless sundown logic. night's ownership retails harsh moonlight, with conviction sent for a remake. poets have their political thing going. it will pay the rent, eventually.

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trust factor of sentry duty smells of smoke. Pontiac performs requisite reaction in a time of reproach amidst the country feeling. someone must die or sort thru papers. colonists have trumpets. they carry a day with truckloads. sentries stir with every noise. the above work flying saucers recede into a movie that will make millions. a roaming fee goes on the books. the books themselves plea for attention. talk down the sad alien infestation, it just wants to give answers. talk over the sentry's harsh challenge. look, West Virginia is a joke, now that sophistication controls the prompt. an end game will allow certain features to be explored. you read a poem that marks a breath, but standard issue, your community leaves the details to others. wrap it up as a congestion in the system. party of the first part takes the stand.

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Wednesday, March 03, 2004

the aliens haven't been on sides lately. adaptation looking people seem pliant enough, so the flying saucers rove to further parts of the same planet. we're not scared exactly, just confused. will death be alien as well? problems, including us, and we haven't slept a wink. who should we refer this to? Donald Trump starring in his own tv program jolt of electrons?what about Martha Stewart near jail experience? is Michael Jackson an ontological certainty? does poetry mean aliens have won, or will we include poems in our community, tears on our pillows? today spurs numerous onto a page, for writ and give place to the most community, named and chatted about. in time, the scare tactics will be braved and round. you will whistle thru the night in share of a tiny point of light named Arcturus.

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the weak point of blizzards doesn't end a spring day. our tools will seek names, Gil Ott, the others, a father. our tools will people a desperate charge account, will place banking favours in the climate. once and for all comes second. the community mellows with the idea that here you link and forever. the name pours on, while expectations command respect. it isn't about tearing the calico, push comes to shove. we've seen a day or two, early and late, and been driven to stores for all night. there was a word to give the clerk. there was an offer of the counter, say a doughnut, or a pack of, ready to the moment. the community says dulllards live lives. the community insists on pieces tollled for a ration. the community gathers newspapers for living. poetry points on a glove or room or where the most roam. out of an extra sphere to peruse the next generational saying, this day idea idle and clannish. now the weather turns fine, giving a segment of the community some time.

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Tuesday, March 02, 2004

story told again 

the top of the wind flew off and now where are we? when we invent Haiti as an expression of utmost pain, we see the wind. the wind explodes over colours like you know what, but it reenters our world with conditions such as wind itself, decapitated. that's okay and you know the sound of a mouse multiplied by insolence, in the dark of everything. suddenly it's just alien, like the nose of a horn. or when you press against the glass nature of whichever, when verbs are your toes. the top wind in memory includes a puttering sound, as we all get old. we redeem in the mental marsh next to our community, which is poetic, if cattle prod. a real nature exists in dollops of creme and a penchant for musk. the toppling of wind will fill endless days, rich news when you try to be tired. the poem that wants you will land over nice. the wind is over the hill, it unmasks, it takes a tree in hand: why aren't you reading faster?

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the best possible product 

the creative draw founds on intake that the place named concludes with an eyeful.
after effects surround a possible rendering of open source, tho begging to differ continues.
in throes and breaking point, as if saying so would help, the microcosm seems reserved for utter sanguine.
posed thoughtful rejoinder on the left end of right now.
dastardly exultation ran over a tired bairn, loosening the gibbet for another day.
trammels remain desire. with a big glass of chocolate milk.
the community firestorm lifts its own lilting light.

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Monday, March 01, 2004

it's time too for forensic in the nick of time and telling community itself rather than blowing hard at the flame a tradition instilled and still one lasts in surprise and hard coinage turn a phrase into a popularity or figure for every dead poet there could be a promotion or exception realizing that the power of ambition squanders pure land or whatever adjective that falls loosely or with patience topical amongst throng patterns and full of beans, your friends in this undertaking

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it's time for the little pieces. community urge can reinvent some nice picture principle, sporting recitations in best fashioned out of clear. along certain dream lines resolution could find a pattern of equity, while each votes his or her special way in. conclusion would look like a boat. we could expect expressions, the lasting marks, and travelogue diaries. there would be a new poetics to save for a young year. we could segregate bad from the flock, foraging in a dull magnitude because of rent. tell choice its rules. we're in a bargain already.

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