lost eyes dreaming in stines in the abyss of a tortured coal ... they steam for the Andes, then with a tropical gear of sigh they spell out their catastrophe.
I love my nocturnal emissions as they telescope through the towering breath - those long chains of wishbone of butterfly purgatory that put on their monocles
because of the strychnine alley buzzard - or that dismantle the song shipwreck in their gray lenses ... and the rolling laughter that confront the mirror's opposite, poor breasts sagging
for their wept-after syllables ... All those silent marriages prosthetically high as kite, and whose numbnesses foretold yesterday's tiny melancholy,
with infestations grown immense in their tomorrow lingerie, sexy to the thumb's introspection, their intense black coffee ... and O, the swinging veil
of the last supper of longing! Eyebrows waiting, hee haw, spanked ... A face swallows a window, then draws down the desired ...
And the dancing where a doll tinkles its hell ... Bellow, Clarity, Humpy, Cognac and all the angels and saints ... O! the palpitations of a compass
where you hear seas sleeping! An eyelash of blue vegetable ... The moans we pass, that tell us it's in the corridor, while we
sit in our television with technicolor umbrellas, as we love in wonder as its endless spasm hops to and fro ... Then, O! at a virile clinic
where you spot the tweezers of zebras, the archipelago, lonely stuttering of distant thighs ... then telephones, and castles, zoot suits of morse code ...
Wild signals in saintly cloth, mysterious cursive in echoing seashells that straddle the nightstand ...
And - O, above all! - after the bloodless stockings where your very heart is dynamited up with a termite the triumphant trumpet, with
a blasted buoy, with all the glitter, snail-like bouncing of the hydrant making its mind rosy through the bank-vaulted cuticles
of a neon radio's white noise! ... That is where the intersections' blinding light of string along accordioned stare from stare
one to another all round the stovepipe corset of smile - the infinite braille under a fine bright moonlight and the noon of wasps that
I encoded with profound smoke on all my parties and disenchantments ... How, I wrote silver trees collapsing in the silk ...
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