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.

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