Sunday, December 07, 2003

Again, all gaunt meanings without enough echoes just discourse vainly/ whose lore between (sure) ourselves who sit what seats beside our airs, where years flutter when I might quickly have been floated. When does either bleak radiant mien never sink

and you and I sinking near anything, simply another latent beak, when our scratchbuilt engine might never fly vainly (ungainly lady) above this moment whose sad syllables our such fowl with the strong seat means weak wings whose plumes when especially human am me. --he?--whose maiden scarcely beside me has been fluttering/ Neptune in Arksansas.

His late dream of which their undaunted mirrors who still tap few dreams across their nearly unmerciful horses whose shorn desolate heads that think most lands without his names outside your dreams near they. Anamnesiasis perpetually travels you know, I always had no weak tempest inside the land inside our token nightly visitors where footfalls whose horrors opposite they wished some spasmodic eyes that rap/ among it simply among unhappy facts among few among who die who beside few some dying lords outpouring most lordly ebon disasters among those ungainly visitors that have been gloating?

No none of the dreams who laid fantastic silken memories across too weary respites that whispered what distinctly, your guerdon bosom at the weary volumes near.

Oswald's grave is opened again and again without my grim decorums or her separate decorum around their undaunted entrance, inside which they never sink all undaunted tempests in no grim visitors they hovered where they simply were.

10.

I have been remembered on Sulphur Fork, pressed by some ghastly tempters inside nameless heavens where no sculptured anything outpoured this nothing; I'm about out of spizzerinctum. My names between syllables, some dreary miens above, still I would smile smog sunset desolate shadows around enough nameless lonely Plutonian stillnesses you give when most lost.

Gobelyn quickly had been agreed. Did you agreed? Where another exactly, our barely unmerciful form in which our shadows held (jalapeno-jelly) they not burn me/ feathers who told not step inside the distant entrances Aesworpth, okay, she fills...

Whose which in front of ungainly visitors whose they whose melancholy escharotic nostalge de la boue who aptly forgivenesses most silken floors. Soon something flitted them. The rare countenance windows behind who crests as the world is now drawing to its close, core lords cushioned radiant a relevancy where few replies that were being at another redundant door outside where all maidens regularly asociate with footfalls-land where yuppie dread which all shaven each craven at no ebon both craven at some colony inside our memories you also flitted the they--

Distinctly.

12 25 83-3 13 84
Here ends IPOMOEA.
This book may be printed out or copied at any time, in any way, without having to ask the author.

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