Posted 12:00 AM by Brian McCloskey
JANUARY 2011
And in the night and at the fading of the stars!  Elders fall for green almonds when they’re raised on bruised stone.  The mausoleum lies behind us.  Possibly ambidextrous, snubnosed probably and presenting a strangely profound rainbow.  And silk stockings show her shapings when he looses hose on her.  Taught himself skating and learned how to fall.  The door is still open.  That a cross may crush me if I refuse to believe in it.  This bountiful actress leashes a harrier under her tongue.  The pink of punk perfection as photography in mud.  The aged monad making a venture out of the murder of investment.  After their battle thy fair bosom.  And still a light moves long the river.  But first get a wolf.  I would get into a blame there where sieves fall out.  I would like to send a cormorant around this blue lagoon.  You must buy me a fine new girdle too.  And with that many clothes on, interpretive dance wasn’t exactly an option.  These words are empty and equivalent.  As if the dirt needs to know if I belong to him!  Dig deep into your hosiery drawer and pull out those trusty opaque tights.  Just the wolf at the edge of the village at first.  It's extremely hard for me to get hot.  I still look professional, feel sexy and feel comfortable.  I sort of have a weakness for tights, which stems from my love of wearing skirts.  Beneath her feet the melancholy garden will turn bright green.  The polka dots get wider as my leg does.  The vowel of an owl/the owl of a vowel.  I am comfortable kayaks in the summer.  The rules still allow me to wear any tights I want!  I would suggest wearing black tights for a more chic look.