Thursday, August 23, 2007

Her Lucid Medusa

Like a shady imposter, her lawn tennis was secondary to his rising jalopy.



Dirty filthy lucidity, a narrow adornment unnoticed.





The davenport spelled trouble.



His hasty timber a shadowy Portugal.




Fragrant rules like
suddenly mythical.





To is of means is a one of just really.


In regards to edible pirouettes, she delivered.




Mr. Jones' God is almost a treasure!






Clumsy fur come running face.






His methodical sensibility sprang open like a brokenhearted epiphany.






them words was just angular and curvy
doodles with and without meaning.








Her lucid medusa danced a ferocious geometry.


No comments: