Boy Laughs And Computer Burns

Sunday, April 01, 2007

MARCH 2007
The rectangles never free themselves from the forces of gravity. Breeze around the fulcrum. Is it almost honey, is it snow? Your smile warms my heart. In the very essence of poetry there is something indecent. To deck feathers with roaring tumbling fair. Times ticking in order to him, by the trembling withering. The nun trembled as she lifted the girl’s skirt. You extend my range like no one has ever extended it before. Red shoes contain red painted toes. Stale petticoats blossoming through unworn dresses. Swedish girls wear them on their heads to signify the coming of the winter season. I have some bulky rubbish to collect. This was the first time he had slept with the indicator at zero. It's so full of humanity - I could hear petticoats in the hallway. These are the perfect tights for when the weather starts getting warm. Think of your hands getting warm. I'm cold and there are wolves after me. Not just any toothbrush. Don’t think that tights are just for the dead of winter. He had thrown some coins into the piano. She stretches a hand toward the toothy sleeper. We bought a frog toboggan. Shadow now gracing your musical jaws. Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines. Is there anything as still as sleeping horses? Trampled snow is the only rose. I might have been a window. Jesus loves all fruit except grapefruit. He never even dreams, being sheer snow. Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc.