[*****    ADLUVIUS
ADLUVIUS    *****
ADLUVIUS quidam
                Latinorum
            praesumtores]
**** x ***** matris suæ feminas suas
English & orum x naturale eius debent
x Aldus [*******]
                                 summa Torres
**** x ***** matris suae
                   feminas suas
Latinorum_ naturalis & x &
                     eius debent
x Aldus [*******] summa coronas

Quidam voluntatem quam feminam x vulvam
Anglicus tympanum x ****** sua:
prius x [*******]
I tores
x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae
Latina: x i & C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
mensem per [*******] summitatem
**** x ***** matris suae
                    feminas suas
Anglicus x & orum naturale eius debent
x Aldus [*******]
summa Torres
**** x ***** matris suae
feminas suas
Latinorum_ naturalis & x &
eius debent
x Aldus [*******] summa coronas

Quid Pro voluntatem quam feminam x vulvam
Anglicus x naturale eius debent tribulatione sua:
prius x [*******]
Ego torres x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae
Latinorum_ x & C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
mensem per [*******] summitatem
Quidam autem ex femina x vulvam
Anglus x naturale eius debent tribulatione sua:
prius x [*******]
ego viatores
x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae
Latinorum_ x C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
Per mensem [*******] top
Quidam autem ex femina x vulvam
Anglus x naturale eius debent tribulatione sua:
prius x [*******] Ego viatores
x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae Latinorum_ × C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
Per mensem [*******] top
Quidam autem ex femina x vulvam
Anglus x naturale eius debent tribulatione sua:
prius x [*******] Ego viatores
x utero matris ad arbitrium est
feminae latinorum_ x C NATURALIS
naturale eius debent
Per mensem [*******] top

EDNA:  I believe you recently had a gay little adventure, Vladimir. So why don’t you tell me all about it? I can see you are simply dying to get it off your chest…

VLADIMIR:  Well, Edna, it happened like this. I hadn't cruised the ***** toilet in the park for months and I was ******* randy, absolutely dying for a really good session, so I thought I'd go along here after the pub shut and see what was up, see if there was any ******* ******* action. I wore some **** ****** under my jeans, you know the sort of stuff: red open crotch *******, suspenders and black fishnet stockings. My **** kept dribbling as I was in the pub, just thinking of what might happen down the toilet.  At closing time, I left the pub, my carrier bag in my hand, with a big anticipatory bulge in my pants.

EDNA [gulp]  And then what happened, Vladimir, dear?

VLADIMIR:  Once I got to the toilet, I was surprised there was no one inside, but there were a few nearby shadows in the park, people smoking cigarettes, walking round, looking for it.  Once in the toilet, I selected the cleanest cubicle and took off my jeans and shirt and put them into the carrier bag. I replaced my normal shoes and socks with the white high heeled women's shoes I had waiting in the carrier. Then I waited in the cubicle for someone to come into the toilet.

After only a few moments, I heard footsteps and I looked under the door to see who was there at the ******.  It was a short muscular looking man wearing jeans and Doc Martens. I could see he wasn't *******, but just standing there, though I couldn't see his face. I opened the cubicle door and he turned around to see who was there, so I opened the door wide open so he could see me standing there in the stockings, suspenders and silk ******* with my stiff **** sticking out of the hole in them.

He was about forty and very butch looking with close cropped hair and I could see his **** hardening as he looked at me.  I went over to him and took his **** in my hand and he grabbed hold of mine and started rubbing it.  I got down on my knees and took his short, fat, uncircumcised **** in my mouth; it tasted salty and ******* gorgeous. He grabbed hold of the back of my head and forced his **** deep down my throat nearly making me gag.  I could smell the odour of his ***** hair and I loved it.  He said, "Keep ******* it, you ***** ****, or I'll pull your ******* head off." I loved him talking ***** like that to me.

EDNA [getting a bit excited]  That seems very bold of you both.  What happened next?

VLADIMIR:  In what seemed no time at all, I felt him tense and then I got an enormous mouthful of his hot *****.  I'd never known anyone come so much, he must have had a week's worth in his *****.  After he'd come, he took his **** out of my mouth, put it away and zipped himself up.  I started to get to my feet, but he pushed me backwards onto the filthy floor.  ‘You're lucky I don't knock your face in, you ****,’ he said as he went out.  I love my men to be a bit rough with me, so I was very excited by this.  I half hoped he would punch me but he didn't.

EDNA: [wiping forehead] Well, that’s really very interesting. Did you go home then, dear, or were you still up for it, as the expression goes, Vladimir?    

VLADIMIR:  I got up and dusted myself down.  I could taste his come in my mouth, it was ******* delicious.  I was still incredibly excited, my **** was absolutely rigid and I knew I just needed to give it a couple of rubs and I'd shoot my ***, but I wanted more ***, and I knew once I came, I would just feel like going home.  So I went back into my cubicle and waited to see if anyone else came in.

After about five minutes I heard footsteps, followed by more footsteps again and I looked under the door a second time.  There were two men standing there and, by straining my neck, I could see they were groping each other.  One had one hand on the other's **** and his other hand on his **** and the other man was working on the first man's **** as well.  

I let the door open and they both swung round as they hadn't known there was anyone else in the toilet.  They saw me and looked relieved it wasn't a policeman lurking in there.  One was quite young, about twenty or twenty five, but he was a bit skinny and effeminate-looking.  The other one was much older, about fifty, but he was much better looking and I could see he had a huge **** on him.  I walked over to them in my **** rigout and joined in with the wanking.  They both started feeling my **** under my *******.

I turned round and bent over, my hands on the toilet cubicle doorposts, stuck my **** out invitingly and pulled my ******* down to my knees.  ’Why don't you **** me?’ I said, bold as brass.  The older man, the one with the big ****, left the young skinny guy and took up the offer I had made.  He undid his trousers and pulled his underpants down to reveal the full length of his enormous **** and his big hairy *****.  He spat on his hand and rubbed it on his ****, but he needn't have bothered because I had already lubed my **** when I was waiting in my cubicle.  

He slipped his big **** up my moist ******* without much difficulty and then started ******* me gently.  I told him to **** me harder, to **** me harder than he had ever ****** anyone in his life, so he started to really ram it up my hole.  God, I loved it.

EDNA [sweating with mounting excitement and unable to resist touching herself down there]  Mmmmm. I wish I’d been there to see that, I really, really do.  But don’t let me disturb your narrative flow, darling….

VLADIMIR:   Then the young skinny guy got down on his knees in front of me and took my **** in his mouth.  Each time the man who was giving it to me ****** hard into me, I jolted forward and rammed my **** deep into the skinny guy's mouth.  I was moaning with ecstasy as I got ****** and ****** by two complete strangers.  The guy with the big **** couldn't last long and soon shot his load up my **** and as he did it he said, ‘O Christ, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm shooting my ***** up your ******* *******.’  This made me incredibly excited and I came off in the younger man's mouth.  The skinny youngster was wanking his own **** as he knelt in front of me and I know he came as I felt the ***** splashing on my stockinged legs.

As he removed his still fat **** from my gaping hole, a stream of the older man's ***** ran down my legs.  He said he wished his wife would let him **** her in the ******* like that.  I went to kiss him but when he smelled the ***** on my face from the butch one I'd ****** off earlier, he wasn't having any of it and left with a mumbled goodbye.

The younger man had now got to his feet and was standing in front of me as he buttoned himself up.  He said ‘We can wait a few minutes and then we can do it again if you like.  I'd love you to **** me, you've got a lovely ****.’  But it was no good, the magic had passed and I told him to ****** off.

So I went back into the cubicle, got changed back into my ordinary clothes and left the toilet.  I could feel ***** oozing out of my ******* and I could taste the first load in my mouth still.  I had a smile on my face. It had been a great night out.

EDNA:  [removing her hand from inside her ******* as unobtrusively as possible and trying to disguise the fact she has just had a cataclysmic ******]  Wow, that’s really a very exciting story. It’s made old Edna quite hot and bothered. You really are a very naughty boy, Vladimir.

VLADIMIR: Would you like me to tell you about what happened to me in the old cinema down by the docks?

EDNA: [still throbbing a bit] No, dear, that will be the subject of another interview. We don't want to over-excite our readers, do we?

*THE END

Growling and hissing, a storm formed along the road, portending the merging of the chaos that had been gripping our minds for months.  This day, this type of day, we could have dreamed up in the novel of our love affair.  The conversation along our drive into the country was as full and ***** as all other tête-à-têtes shared in our two months together.  We were never at a loss for words and his conversation had been more educated than the older men I had dated since the divorce.  I was forever astonished at him and with him.  

The first time I met him, I was sitting behind my desk and planning for another monotonous day of office politics and all the drama connected.  Lost in thought, I sipped coffee and read emails until, there was - him.  He opened my office door with such fervor and drama, I knew someone had just entered into my life that would leave me forever changed, and I welcomed it.  A mess of auburn hair, neither combed nor styled and yet quite fitting, haloed around his head and gave the visage of an angel.  He had a freckled nose and cheeks with blue eyes staring from behind all that wildness and they were the only calming feature about him.  I turned my head and grimaced a bit, “how dare someone charge into my office as if to own it”.  “How can I help you?” made its way from my lips with a bit of a sigh.  And he smiled, that smile which would make his face even younger and more deceptively angelic.  

“Hello” danced off his lips and in two syllables was able to sound singsong and my anger soon turned to anticipation.  He introduced himself as Parker and explained his new position as Junior Editor.  He went on to say someone instructed him to introduce himself to me since I was Senior Project Manager for the organization.  His fervent entrance into my office had sent a gush of wind that disheveled my tidy desk and his wide blue eyes looked around at the chaos he had rendered.  He seemed unable to offer apologies, and I soon learned this was his way.  His confident facade prevented admission of mistakes and the word “sorry” could not escape the tightness of his will to be correct.  This was my lover’s way and it was the structure built that only wrecking ***** could destroy.

As is expected of me, I extended my hand to welcome him, overmuch aware of my grip and strength in presenting my hand, I felt the need to dominate the grip.  I was a woman in a senior position inside the male dominated echelon of upper management.  I took his hand and with rehearsed quickness attempted to demonstrate my dominance, my superiority.   It was then, the first time I saw a devil behind his angelic face and I remember my expression churned up my secret thoughts.  He saw my eyes searching those thoughts and delight shone from his blue eyes like cold fire and I was burned.   Our hands soon contorted into a dance of dominance with fingers twisting as if in a finger shadow play.  No time for games or plays for control, I simply took the shake he offered and turned towards my coffee, my drama, my emails and without looking at him welcomed him again and gave a wave of dismissal.  He greeted my brush-off with a laugh and made his way to the chair in front of my desk.  He was tall and the light from behind silhouetted his broad shoulders and upright posture.  He was confident and sure.  His clothes were expensive, well-tailored and not at all the measure for his age.  He had a style about him and I believe it came as naturally to him as did the confidence in which he clothed himself.

I wanted to be angry at his overconfidence, his interruption, his disregard.  I was, instead, amused but annoyed.  He sensed he was beginning to irritate me and it seemed to delight him.  He would speak without taking a breath, eager to finish his thoughts, aware perhaps that time could steal the moment away and he would forever wonder.  He spoke with an accent I did not fully recognize and attempted to invite me to lunch or even coffee.  My lover was bold.  

I was succeeding in this corporate world, my world.  I was not ready to lose my focus for a moment alone with the delightful creature staring back at me, awaiting the “yes” he expected would be my answer.  He was a man who did not accept the “no’s”.    He would get what he wanted and would wait in predator mode until his prey was wounded, weak, ready.  He was not a predator in the malevolent sense, more in the need for survival mentality.  He would lift the wounded and weak above the limits of their afflictions and a “yes” would flow from their lips in fond gratitude.  Today I was not a “yes” and it did not feel like a final answer.  Somehow, I knew one day I would be naked with this man, my lover.  I knew I would take him inside me, and he would show me how to love in ways I had never known.  The “no’ and the explanations of the “no” exuded from my lips, and I could see him grow even more eager to know me.  He would learn the stories of my life from rumors and talk.  He would learn of my divorce, of the men I dated with expensive homes and cars.  He would hear about the occasional woman who would occupy my bed.   I had wished all of it to be true but only the divorce was correct.  I was not exceptional or exciting.  I was driven and focused.  

He stood there hearing my “no” with the sun behind him igniting the fire in his hair with his shoulders pinned back exposing his sculpted chest.  He stood there and allowed the silence after my rejection to hover the room, and there it was.  We locked eyes, and neither could emancipate from the other.  I wondered who he was and what he looked like naked in the morning with his disheveled hair, and we stared, locked in our gaze until my phone rang signaling the end of round one.  

Wrapped in my shawl, I moved between sipping coffee, as was my usual, and typing on my laptop.  He was behind me in the cabin.  I felt him approaching and knew he would quickly whisk me away from the overwhelming din of office emails and calls.  His presence behind me now was no longer disquieting but natural.  

The cabin had been his grandfathers and he had a noticeable pride about it when showing me through the door and gateway to his childhood memories.  He had a smile on his face I had never seen.  I delighted in how young it made his face appear, almost as if the childhood memories possessed him and he became the blithe youth here with his grandfather.  


It was fall at the cabin and the smell of musk and rotting leaves and ozone from the storm, filled the cabin and each deep breath was taking in a memory from my youth.   I was happy to be here with him and yet afraid.  Two months we flirted and touched over our shared lunches, eager to get inside each other physically, mentally.  The office was replete with stories of the happenings between the older woman executive and the younger up and coming man, how he must be using her to advance his career and how she was using him to heal the wounds of her recent divorce.  We heard these stories and watched them grow to the point we ended our touching, our flirting.  Soon the denial of our feelings and time apart turned to foreplay.  Soon there were stares across conference rooms, perceptive smiles as we crossed paths.  The total of it led us to this moment, to time alone together for the first time, this time.  

Fall in the country was the vangaurd to a glorious death.  The earth would explode with color announcing its final breath and moment upon the stage and we had arrived during the final bow and curtain call.  Trees draped in gold - and red - and orange heralded the fire to come and we too were ready to pour forth in glorious blaze and inferno.  During the entire ride into the country an ironical mist of dew and rain dotted the windshield as if nature attempted to douse the desires clawing to escape in each other’s arms.  There was a devil sitting next to me and I had to smile as his auburn hair blended so naturally with the landscape.  I was obviously lost in thought and he looked at me and asked if I was okay.  Him next to me, him crookedly smiling at me.  

“It’s nothing.  It’s just nice to see you in your element.”  My replay was short but my heart was beating so hard I was almost afraid he could see it bouncing behind my blouse, so I began to cover up but was met with his hand before I even reached the edge of my coat.  

“No.  I want to see you.”  His voice was soft but demanding and strong.  Often there were hints of a struggle for power between us.  His youth and position within the company prevented me from accepting his seriousness and his face would ***** into a grimace.  I never gave it much thought other than a bit of a nuisance.  His hand led mine to my lap, and I expected him to hold it, but he let go with a smile.  I enjoyed his show of power but refused to reveal a glint of it for fear I would lose the respect and control necessary over a subordinate.

Soon the cabin filled with the sounds of rain and thunder and as I stared out the window jealous of the drops of rain and their randomness, he touched my shoulder and looked down at me with his eyes bluer than wild lupine.  I smiled a painful smile and he knew I was overthinking the moment.  Taking my hand, he brought me to his chest and into his arms, arms that would embrace all of me and at times felt as if they could wrap around me twice.  I placed my head on his chest and began to reach for his belt.  The *** I had known was always routine.  This was expected, that was not allowed.  I fell into that routine naturally and was happy to oblige his needs in order to meet mine.  He kissed my forehead and still holding one hand, led me to the door of the cabin.  “What are we do…”  He stopped me with a single “shhh” from his lips.  I followed him and felt myself shiver.  I was not sure if I was shivering in fear or from the nip of fall air.  

“Don’t be afraid.  You have nothing to fear from me.  There’s no need to shiver my little poppet.”  He stepped back from me and stared as if I were a tiny bird in need of nestling back into its home.  “I’ve never seen you afraid.”  He touched my cheek and I felt so small and helpless, lost from home, and he was the only way back.  With a smile he took my hand and led me outside to the rain, lifting his face and savoring the drops bouncing off his cheeks.  

“W..w..what are you doing?”  I was trembling now and wondered if I had misjudged this man and he was in fact a lunatic ready to strangle me to my death.  My silk blouse, now drenched, clung to my ******* exposing an imprint of lace from my bra.  He reached for my shawl and pulled it off my shoulders.  He was looking at me so lovingly my body and mind calmed and I was once again in the moment.  Our moment.  This moment.  

His face, stern now, official, his mouth opening with such deliberateness that I was sure he had been in this situation before.  Once again my mind wanted to race to thoughts of not being good enough or that I was too old or too plain.  His voice pierced my thoughts and brought me to attention.  “There will be no talking unless I tell you to.  Nod if you understand”

My mind wanted to slap him with reminders of my superiority to him at work, how he was MY subordinate and how dare he.  My mouth would not open and my head began to nod in understanding.  My body and mind were bending to his will and acting upon his orders.  Shivering gave way to shaking now and I wanted to run to the warmth of the cabin and watch the fire burn the logs to a black crisp and wake up in his arms naked and giggling.  

Having seen my compliant nod, he began to speak.  “Undress.”  One word.  One word in response to the shaking mess of a woman standing in the rain, cold and afraid.  My hands were barely able to form the necessary movements to reach for the top button of my blouse.  I did not want to fail him or appear as if I were unfamiliar with tales of ***** men overpowering and having their way with a willing lover.  My fingers moved quickly now, wanting to end the scene and move on to the *******.  He stared.  He did not blink.  He did not nod or move.  He was enjoying every subtlety of me.  He was pleased.   I was a willing participant in his fantasy.  Nothing made me happier than to please him.  I began to feel hot and something inside me broke.  Was it my will, my pride, my fears?  I was not sure, but I felt alive.  Every thirsty pore of my skin opened up and lapped at the rain so very eager to feel it on my skin and the randomness of the drops was no longer something I envied but something in which I participated.  

My hands began to tug my blouse free from my skirt and the wet silk now draped over my hips like curtains, revealing the curves I was so painfully aware of hiding to keep anyone from noticing my *** and concentrate upon my words and actions.  I knew now I had one button remaining before I would, for the first time, display myself to him.  He did not flinch, rather, he maintained his stare and for a second I pleaded to him with my eyes not to expect me to do this.  He was resolute.  I spread open the soft, wet cloth and began to drape it off my shoulders.  I let it slide from my wrists, then fingertips, then to the ground blissfully unconcerned that my Hermes blouse was now draped over wet grass and mud.  

I looked down at my skin dripping and alive with goosebumps.  I had bought this bra in anticipation of this moment, in fear of this moment.  White lace bra and perfectly matched ******* were demonstrative of my control over even the small details.  My skirt was loose and heavy with the rain.  It was low on my waist and lay just below the navel leaving me the most exposed I had ever been with him.  I reached to touch the button on the back of my skirt.  Undone, I slipped my fingers along with the zipper feeling each click of the tiny teeth holding together the disguise of a powerful woman.  My hands traced the banded edge of the skirt pushing it over my hips allowing it to fall to the ground.  

His face looked stern but pleased, stoic and fixed.  I was in my bra, ******* and stilettos now.  I began to reach for the hinged part of my bra when he stopped me.  “No.  Stop.” He walked over to me.  He was close now and I was so cold I could feel heat from his body.  I wanted to kiss his lips, his full lips, but I did not move.  I knew now the rules and I would do only what was asked of me.  I stood rigid with no flinching.  I waited for any words that would pass from lips to ear.  He did not speak but leaned into me and reached over my right shoulder undoing the chignon in my hair.  He draped my shoulders with strands of liquid filament.  He took his time there, placing each strand in the exact order in which he was pleased.  With two steps back, he looked at my wet hair with the deliberate strands, as if he had created a masterpiece and for a moment I was unsure if the artwork he saw was me or his work.  

“Now be still.  Allow me to touch you, to admire you, my beautiful Moira.”  When he said my name even after these two months, he had the ability of saying it as if he were speaking it in serenade and for the first time.  He moved his hands to my back and unlinked my bra, one hook at a time with such dexterity I knew he must be a professional at *******.  He, who was to be my first professional lover.  He slid both straps off my shoulders, then taking my hands towards my abdomen, he slid the straps forward on my arms.  Lifting my hands, he demanded I keep them out and straight.  Me, the student to the professional, complied without question.  He bound my wrists with the lace bra, the bra I had bought just to please him, then lifted my arms above my head.  “You will keep your hands up until I tell you to move.”

I had become his toy.  I knew in this moment, I no longer existed for me, I was his, completely and entirely, and I abandoned myself to the rain, to the cold, to his gaze, realizing that surrendering to his urges strengthened me.  He turned and walked away.  He took a seat in an Adirondack chair and even it looked small in his presence.  “On your elbows and knees,” he spoke matter-of-factly.  Just five minutes ago, the struggle inside me to have the appearance of strength, would have denied me this happiness, this happiness to be free in his command.  “Now crawl to me, please.  Slowly.”

I did not care to be in the mud.  I wanted it.  I wanted to please him.  First to my knees, leaving an indention in the clay, then awkwardly at first, onto my elbows with my hands still tied at the wrist.  Crawling on my elbows, my back was arched with my waist higher than my head, giving him a view of the thong I had chosen only for this moment, my succeeding moment.  My position felt ungainly.  I looked to his face for approval.  “No.  You cannot look at me”, he commanded.  For a moment I felt I had lost his approval and self-doubt harried my brain.  My will to please was resolute.  I faced the ground, once again aware of the randomness of nature, the power of nature, how things in nature will do as they are told.  The reed is told to bend.  It does.  It does not question why but responds in its way.  Rivers do not question why they are shaped.  They just continue with powerful current.  I was the reed.  I was the river.  I did not question.

Face towards the ground, I could see the mud forming on my body, molding to my shape then rinsing with the rain.  It repeated.  Mud.  Rain.  Mud.  Rain.  This was the cadence to my crawl.  I arrived at his knees and waited there, a dog eager for a command from its master.  I was content to watch the rain beat ripples around his feet, splashing and shining his shoes with glossy drops.  “I cannot love you”, I thought to myself, “this is forbidden”.  “Being here in this moment, is forbidden.” We would have this moment.  Yes.  We could create this memory and think back on it in fondness and with both heaviness and happiness.  I would remember my young lover, my professional lover.  He would remember the obedient executive on her knees.  I would not regret our moment.  I would some day write it all down in my journal and press the pen deep into the paper.  It had to be etched, those words, my words, this memory.

His hand below my chin, lifted my gaze to his and he smiled, that smile, his smile, the smile that was like nature to my body, and I did not ask why.  I was a river being formed.  “You are so beautiful.  All of you.  Your skin so soft and pale.  Your eyes moving from fear to acceptance.  I see now you want to please me and I want you to know that I want to make you happy.  I want to be your lover.  I want to taste your lips kissed with rain and feel your shivering body pulled against me.  You are safe.  I will not hurt you.  Poppet.  I love you.  I have for awhile now, and I think you know it.  You, my wise, wise Moira.”  He lifted me up and for a moment pulled my body towards him burying his face in my abdomen.  He lingered there.  I felt how soft his red tufts of hair were and how soft his words were against my ears.  I loved him too.  Genuinely.  Profoundly.  I was afraid.

He inhaled deeply, there against my stomach, as if he were breathing in my essence.  I felt his breath turn from warm to cold against me as it mixed with rain.  He stretched his arms and moved my body backwards as he extended until I was a foot away from him.  “I would very much like to undress you, poppet.  I’ve been imagining it, aching for it.  I want to see all of you, naked and on display.”  He touched my abdomen with the tips of his fingers, as if afraid the pale china of my skin would disintegrate into a misty dream.  I relished it, the touch of him against parts of me he had not known.  I was always able to keep him at a distance, physically.  His hands traced the edge of my *******.  He moved slowly, and I knew he was wanting to etch this memory into his journal.  Nothing less than ink pressed hard to paper would release this memory to time.  His placed his hands on my hips and spun me around, my thong lining up with his gaze.  “Bend over.”  His voice from sweet to demanding again.

My hands were still bound, and I stumbled at first.  He seemed not to notice or to care, so I arched my back and pushed myself outward and into his view.  I felt his hands move from my thighs to my hips as gentle as summer winds that in their seductiveness turn our faces towards the impact.  I was in my forties and unsure how I would compare to the twenty-year-old’s he was known to date.  The gossip left nothing to imagination and everything to speculation.  My mind had conjured images of him, this professional lover, inside the firm thighs of a youthful companion.  Thoughts transformed to pleasure as the nature that was his hands took dominance over the thin lace that hid the only piece of me left unseen.  I became art in his hands, marble statue, exquisite with textures and curves wanting to be touched.  

The lace scraped my skin as he slid the *******, wet and splashed with earth, over the expanse of my hips and down to the ground at my ankles.  “Step out of them.”  He helped free my ankles, and I saw the delicate lace become one with the earth as the rain beat it into the mud.  This was freedom.  This was me with nature, me with my lover.  I was the reed and he was the wind.  

I was keenly aware of his eyes fixated on the valley of my mound, how my cheeks spread just enough to give hints of the pinkest of my flesh, now swollen and ripe.  “Turn around.”  I heard his voice and could tell the bombardment of rain was making it difficult to speak.  

I turned and began to ***** my body when I felt his hand on my back.  “No, poppet.  You must stay this way until I say stand.”  My body ached to be touched by him, by more than fingers and hands, but this, the anticipation, the wanting of it all, this was the skill of a professional lover.  I saw the earth drowned with a thick layer of rain now, and my shoes made splatters and ripples as I turned towards him.  I was cold now, too cold, unaware cold, numb in my cold.  I was happy to feel it.  I had for too long hid from rain, this glorious rain.  Now, I was one with the rain.  I was the river coursing its path as commanded by nature.  

He took my hands and untied them.  I watched the entire progression of it and I felt his presence now even more.  My hands were free, and I stared at my shoes and his shoes.  I was so small in his presence.  “Stand for me, poppet.”  His voice diffused through the rain and seemed softer now.  I stood there in my nakedness and he delighted in it.  My lover was not afraid and moved his head along with his eyes.  It was easy to know where upon my body his gaze had landed.  He seemed to linger the most on my face, and I thought how odd it was as most men concentrated on my ******* or mound.  My lover was different.  My lover was professional.

“Poppet, I want you to remove my shirt, but you will not toss it to the ground.  You will place it on the chair.  Nod if you understand me.”  He knew I understood but was confirming I was still in the moment and willing.  I obliged him with a nod and without looking at his face, began to unbutton each dot from its hole until he was shirtless before me.  His chest was firm and hairless and dotted with unobtrusive freckles as random as the rain.  I was delighted.  He was beautiful.  My lover was beautiful.

He placed one hand on my head, the other on my shoulder.  “On your knees for me, poppet.”  My knees once again bent for him, and I knelt in the rain, the thick rain and saw my knees again molded in the mud and earth.  I was unsure now.  Years had passed since I had taken a man inside my mouth.  I felt panic, like the river, run a course through me and I started to turn away.  But I was resolute.  “I will make him happy in all things this day” rang in my ears like a mantra.  I watched as he undid his belt and felt it as he wrapped it around my neck two times and pulled the loose end until it was taut but not constricted against my skin.  I was his.  I was the pet and he was the master.  It was official to me now in this symbol.  I was leashed and about to be tamed.  My lover was going to teach me his skill.  I was delighted.

I watched him free the one button on his pants and move to the patterned teeth of the zipper.  He rested his pants on his hips and pulled free the thing, that thing, the thing I was craving.  The thing I would take inside me, deep inside wherever my master wanted it.  I was the river.  

He was not large, not small, but thick, surprisingly thick, he was swollen and vascular.  I studied the curve of it.  The tip, the head.  I watched his hand grip it and move it towards my lips.  I opened my mouth and took him inside me.  He moved his hands to the sides of my head and began to direct me in the movement he needed from me.  I studied the thrusts and followed.  I moved my tongue, my eager tongue, in unison with the rain and percussion of the drops.  I slid him deep inside me devouring and savoring the taste of him.  The taste of my lover was satisfying, and I wanted to bring him to completion there in that moment.

We stayed in the rhythm, with the rain, both lost to the moment.  He stopped his ****** and lifted my chin.  “Moira.  My poppet.”  He led me to my feet and gave his crooked smile to me.  He gave me his smile in that moment, in that second, his smile was mine.  

“I love you”, I whispered, unsure he heard me.  He lifted me like a child and carried my nakedness to the bed.  He placed me there, like a doll.  He contemplated my skin in the light of the fire.  My lover the wind.  My lover the water.  

He was soon naked and drops of rain lit up on his body like little mirrors and I could see images of the room and myself reflected in them.  He removed the belt from my neck.  “We won’t need this.  In this moment, you know you are mine.  You know I am yours.”  We both wrapped our arms around the other, and I felt his skin on mine.  His body was hard and moved in perfect form with each muscle flinching the way it should, each squeeze and release in harmony with the other.  My pale, soft skin was beautiful contrast to his and was yin and yang.  He felt hard and long inside me, so engorged each vein touched the inside of me in a different fashion.  We each sealed our mouth on the other unable to drink as deeply as we wanted.  We were in our moment, this moment.  Alive in the seconds that passed to hours.  We were ready to etch ink on the pages telling of how I was the reed and he was the wind and on this day, I did not ask why, I only did as was I was told.

Just stick it in
Pull it out
*******
Gag her mouth.

Bound and fist it,
Cut zip-tied wrist then,
Bathe her in warm blood bathwater.
Watch her bleed out as an oozing cow mother.

This is how we do it.
This is how we **** ****.

Boiled **** and ***** nitrates,
Bonging buttchug, grease infesting.

This is how we ****.
This our mental state.

Disgusting epoch,
The party *** phenomenon.
Drunk girls, drugged *******.
Pearl necklace confection, gourmands,
in stitches

Plagued with itches,
Stemming from ****** abuse.

This is why I ****.
This is how I crutch.

******* on the inside.
******* on the inside.
******* on the inside.

You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The

Hold you down. Tie you down. Handcuff you to our big bed. Slowly tear your clothes from your warm smooth body. Down to your bra and *******. Kiss you all over and lick some parts. Then I'll slowly start to unbutton my shirt and take off my pants, leaving me exposed. Slowly, is how I'm going to crawl on your body as I feel your wetness through your ******* and I start to rub my hard **** on the wet stain. I'll slip my hand under your back and unhook your bra and then slowly slip it off with my teeth. Then I'll rip your ******* off with my bare hands. When I see your nice sweet *****, I'll kiss it and then start to lick it. Squeezing your thighs and eating you out as you say my name in pleasure. Then I'll unlock the handcuffs and carry you and put you on top of me. I'll slowly start to slip my hard **** inside your tight *****. As you make your faces of pain and pleasure. As you go up and down on me, everytime I'll go in deeper and gain speed. I'll claw at your back as you're riding me and smack your ***. As I'm playing with your ****, you'll move your hair out of your face. Your sweat hitting my chest, mixing with mine, and me close to *******. I'll look into your eyes as I whisper I love you and you whisper it back. Me letting go will cause you to ****** and our bodies will shake in pleasure. You feel me *** hard inside your *****. You bend down to kiss me and I kiss you back softly.When we leave that room we know that we might have just made a baby...

from my book 'How To Write Pro$eperly

LESSON 18: Marketing Your Product
Get outside and box.

How to Make Good Money as a Poet

Volume
Keep up the volume
Then they have to buy all the books
And go looking
For something good
Self-effacing



More How to Make Good Money as a Poet

*** angles
in relation to women’s personality gauge it
chart it
*** angles
Canadian research grant



More How to Make Good Money as a Poet

Poem-in-a-jar
Ode-in-a-jar
Rhythm-in-a-jar, and it vibrates when you pick it up
or could be handwritten
with desperate plea
send money
fax phoney part
please pleas
should colour of lid
indicate mood of poem
should label
indicate word topic theme
or what of material
metal lid or plastic
* Replace the safety seal so they have to punch cover
* Note: if freshness seal broken, do not consume

More How to Make Good Money as a Poet
dead poet cookbook
dead poet cookbook



Poem-in-a-Jar

limited edition collector poetry
signed by author
artist proof worth more
more worth more
per line $1 $5 $100 sky’s the limit
capitalism:
self-effacing charity:
give-drop poem-in-a-jar to bums to sell
use as tax write-off full retail + “costs”
have party supporting charity more tax write-off
wheee! thank you, taxpayers
mmmm! tax write-off



More How to Make Good Money as a Poet

Verse libre
Convince public that your random scratch ins
have deeper meaning social import
esoteric ****** meaning
make it plainly oblivious for them
doubletalk and doublewalk
run at them
when you recite
a poem
attack poetry
possible sales to war department
note when publishing do not include how to make money poet stuff proprietary secret
information

More How to Make Good Money as a Poet

Poetry Repair
Fix other peoples poems
Putter with their pitter-patter
Charge per word (or line) no word
Fix their lines
of poetry and charge them for it
Could franchise this idea
Have walk-in shops around the planet
Poetry Repair;
Pete's Poetry Repair; friendly sounding.
Come down to Pete’s, we'll fix what’s the matter with your pitter-patter
Could increase sales by charging for coffee and downnuts
when they bring in their poems for repair
(Making money as a poet is a joke, easy living man)
Pete’s Podium of Poetry Repair
Poetry Repair
There's gotta be money in it somehow



More How to Make Good Money as a Poet

Ads
In the backs of magazines *2007 or spam
Now you can make EASY MONEY AT HOME
With the fastest growingest gosh-**** bestest
Poetry Repair
Can you spot the error in this?:
Twinkle twaddle little star
How I wonder what you are
Yes. You saw it. Easy, wasn't it? And in no time at all
you'll being doing this to even some of the greats:
Romeo, Romeo,
Oh where for **** thou Romeo
Editors pay big bucks for this stuff
Poetry repair
do it at home
Ads

More How to Make Good Money as a Poet

1 book = poems + free towel inside
free towel inside your book of poems
poem and a free towel
could be symbolic message
something about a towel and a poem
maybe the beach
maybe the *****
something about a towel and a poem



More How to Make Good Money as a Poet

poem-in-a-casket
very goth
sort by flavour
poem-of-the-month club (with underwear)
poem *******
poem *******
******* with poems on the ***
maybe women will let me write on their pantied ***
and charge them for it
(I'm voting for poem *******)
***** Poetry
I’ll be rich
fifty bucks a toss
Painted-***** Poetry
for fifty bucks a toss
I'll come to your house
and paint a poem on your *******
We'll discuss each poem
over tea and cookies
so you'll get what you like
get what you like
poem on your pantied behind, painted
fifty bucks a toss
Call now!

Boy,

She's
got you
all *******
again.

Just.
Bound.
Once more.

To her
infernal-eternal,
heart breaking
beauty.

Witch, she possesses.
you,
to play the pawn
in her *****'s game.

Like a champ.

But will you really be winning?

When you find all-o-those,
***** little secrets.

She has hidden in her black-lace-*******.

Skidmarks on your *******
Tells a tale on you-oo
Skidmarks on your *******
Shows you did a poo-oo.
Bet you twenty Euro
You and I are through
Skidmarks on your *******
Show you followed through.

Skidmarks on your *******
Skidmarks back and fro-ont
Shows you didn't wipe up
Your ******* or your cu-unt.
Bet you twenty Euro
You stupid little runt
Skidmarks on your *******
***** bumholed ****.

And they love the naked woman,                  the mother of us all in the night,
Red w / Black the length of the ***,              the body of the poet &
the heat of the Dead Space,                     the face & feet;
had her snooch been pleasant to be next                      to,  
& among the year's list of the best dark
               places,
a young man to think of the green manure
are not taken away out of the American;
The death of Jesus is living gold,                        in the form
of the Brothers of our mind,        poetry is inflamed by you;
do not have the money, 1 find out w / the sun turned
the old city, Heller makes that give **** in the battle,
death difficult it is going to be ******* skin to a great start
the blood of the sea,      her ***** is said to be a part from his place,
into the hand of the poet of the Lord the words of this;
the hair, which is good, the kids out of the six;
And you are thinking about the way the name of the calling of God
are the dream and the wife, but the loss of the baby blue;
1 knew the things of the story be

after that the Sky Moon Girl's Life
is open to the general American gold drunk Igor heard anyway;
human hands ***** yellow English father,      w/ a bad cold writes that way,
Listen to me turned to Greek Draft 1000
& the three full-theory deep inside;
Medusa, leaving us w / the spirit of God,                but the Son of the stone
which he chose to think things were holy;
And the things of the small wild animal of the living creatures;
And widely used of the stars of Aquarius;
The nature of the gay kids, the book of the cities
to the Expo opening
In the department of brown rock,              one of the the best of whatsoever
he has put in paint deux let the cat his uncle Guy
1 joined the arms of writers, that 1 May is not running,
     standing
Good flow on grapes thrown lips to form tall,
the world talking
Secret invisible to their friends and mothers filled
w / wet & Sweet
French art as the guys when the dog window ****** field
of smoking
Russian music group brain is a lot of talk
w / a glass Voice blind yechy
Children's revolution of life presents
the best played badly wearing
a wall in a school dance stripper,
strippers asked material to return
to sing a little ***** fingers toes
watching James House turned to fall
Park Live cops sitting on the floor;
the origin of the Bedford friend,
a genius whose pictures of *******,
blond in the Sun leaves behind
some of the greatest unproven theories
Under the coastal tallying machine that is fallen,
Gus loving Mary wrote six buried w/in;
spectacle worthy of knees eye replay of science in
suede boots                              running for the Mail
from the radio to the dance floor of glass
& plastic flesh
to change completely into flames,
burning Bettie's corporate guns,
&              checking where it started to burn,           the tongues             every
                        dessert's kiss written in Paradise Rainbow sleep,
Pregnant, reading to a daughter, the monster w/ a messenger
was present for Bob to a stranger, a burst of the side
of the shimmering light in the Christian towns of drinks
at the bottom of thee to **** recollect
that 1 said the tooth is to be removed
by Einstein for the asking of the public
to break it as food in the place of the angle of the character;
of Lee's **** to return to footballs,  the waves of the account
is to understand the mind of a vacancy in the temple;
a voice of the glory of the women,               to see to the ship for its injuries
to the head & was just about to clothe him,                      having understood
the Wilderness Museum,                        & the crowd around the glory table,
prostitutes & the streets of the city,          hotter than mad at the Jews happy,
he saw the dying muscles in the movement
begun by arson
outstanding component of the older men
& others who have not long to leave,                      having a strand of naked
hair                               as opposed to a head held up to the bra made by that girl
is so much to say that the fall is dreaming
of the fate of the famous mountains of Asia;                                  And in that bar on the side of the medical because
of his skin at the queen mean
you now like an American;              Big Jesus alive
gold in the form of brotherhood American goddess
our minds to find the money
sun is an ancient city,
hell makes you **** the battery is too hard for ******* skin
to be great dearth in the blood of the sea
& every woman's ***** of her passage,
quoted from the poet of the word of her hair to the kids
& six are thinking about the way the name of the calling
of the Dream of a wife, and has destroyed
the entrance to the baby, & blue;
& knowing of the middle story is better to live in the sky
the moon
sons and daughters to open the American Igor,
when drunk w/in a country in his ***** yellow & gold
into the English now cold air from bad heart,             children born to write
to walk the big walk back in Greece;
Time will love women woman
naked eyes Girls Man Mother God Life
girls men night hours long red light black people
good thing *** body
poet; Dead Space hot face, feet & head going
snooch beautiful queen Earth, Green thought things
                  do young white dark place years left ****
Jesus, Art America's Big 501                             & they love to see a woman naked,                         the mother of us in the night,
the red w/ black the length of the ***,                             the body of the poet
the heat of the Dead Space,                                                     the face & feet
had been snooch is pleasant to be next year's
                                       list of dark places,
a young man to think of the green manure
    are not taken away out of the American;
The death of Jesus is living gold,                    in the form of the
Brothers of our mind,                        poetry, is inflamed by You;
do not have the money,                   1 find out w/ the sun, turned
to the old city, Heller makes that give **** in the battle,
death it is difficult ******* skin to a great start going to be
the blood of the sea,                    her ***** is said to be a part from his place,
into the hand of the poet of the Lord the words of this,
the hair, which is good,              the kids out of the six,
& you are thinking about the way the name
of the calling of God
are the dream, & the wife, but the loss of the baby,               blue,
1 knew the things of the story better
than the Sky moon girl's life                        is open to the general
American gold drunk,   Igor heard anyway;
human hands ***** yellow English father,    
                   w/ a bad cold writes that way,
listen To me turned to Greek & the three full drafts
of new M-Theory deep inside,                 leaving us Medusa w/ the spirit of God,                
                             but the Son of the stone
which he chose to think were holy things,
& the things of the small wild animal of the living creatures,
& widely used of the stars of Aquarius,
Gay the nature of the Kids, the book of the cities
to the Expo opening
in the Department of brown rock,     one of the the best
of whatsoever he hath put in paint,        deux let the cat his uncle Guy
joined the arms of 1; I, the writer,          that I may is not running,
           standing
on grapes' flowing bones thrown to the lips to form tall,            the world talking to their invisible friends & mother's Secret filled
                          w/ wet & sweet
French Art     as the guys when the dog window
****** field of smoking
Group Russian brain music is a lot of talk
w/ a Yechy glass Voice blind
children revolution of life presents play
                the beat badly wearing
a wall in a school dance stripper,        strippers asked material
to return to sing a little ***** fingers house
turned to fall James' toes watching live cops sitting
on the floor in the Park;                  an original Bedford friend, a genius'
picture of ******* on the blond                                     in the Sun leaves
behind some of the greatest proven Machines;
Orpheum is fallen,
Gus loves Mary,                                    six w/in wrote of the buried
spectacle worthy of knee eye play science for Male suede running
from the radio to the dance glass plastic flesh
to change completely in flames burning Bettie's
corporate guns checking started tongues w / e dessert,
kissed written paradise angels sleep pregnant reading
daughter a monster, a messenger was present for Bob
to a stranger, a burst of the side of the shimmering light
in the Christian towns of drinks in the bottom of the to ****
recollect that I said tooth to be moved by Einstein
for asking the public to break it as food in the place
of the angle of the character of Lee's **** to return the
football to the waves on the account of is to understand
the mind of a vacancy from the temple, a voice of the glory
of the women to see the rate, for injury to the head was just
about was clothed with him, having understood the wilderness,
Museum, The crowd of glory table, prostitutes
& street life of the city,
hot're mad at the Jews happy,             he saw the dying muscles
in the movement begun by arson men and outstanding
component of the older long leaves others
who have not had a strand of naked as opposed
to a head held up bra made that girl is so much
to say that the fall is dreaming of the fate of the famous mountains
of Asia, & in that bar on the side of the medical because of his skin
at the queen mean you now like an American;
Big Jesus alive gold in the form of brotherhood
our mind to poetry goddess money find the sun is an ancient city,
hell makes you **** the battery is too hard for ******* skin
to be great dearth in the blood of the sea, ***** & every woman
of her passages quoted from the poets
of the word of her hair to the kids
& six are thinking about the way the name of the calling
of the dream of a wife, & hath destroyed the door of the baby,
& blue, & knowing of the middle story
is better to live in the Sky
w/ the moon, sons, & daughters,
& to open the Igor when the drunk American
W/in a country is his ***** yellow-gold
into the English now cold
air from bad heart,         children born to write
to walk the big walk back
in Greece; Love Time will women woman
Girls Man eyes naked Mother God Life girls men
night hours red light black long people good
*** body thing poet; Hot Dead Space, face,
feet & snooch
beautiful head
going queen earth,                        years white dark places &
things do ye Young thoughts Green **** left Art in America;
a Big Jesus living Golden Beauty,
hetero-mind poetry of the goddess & money
finds the Sun in the ancient city         of hell;
**** War death hard ******* skin;
great start future ****** sea *****
called female room hand poets word
fire hair kids six thinking street                                         [noun]
call the Dream Wife real lost
door baby blue true knew Middle
making history better live in the Sky & Moon
Child girl open days even drunk Igor
heard American general told gold trace
human hands ***** father;
Time cold heaven English yellow bad side;
Children write walking person heart kind
born turned coming Greek Walk high three
full drink inside working;  leaving Medusa's
spirit the truth of stone feeling the holy son
wanted small wild widely; Barbie's star gay
nature Kid Ugly Brown
book states hole rock;
Best painted year lady, cat guy
arms writing & running,
standing pink mouth is going lips
form deep century
speaks invisible friends mother's Secret filled & wet
but sweet French keep
guys where read dog window;
in the ****** field smoking Ivan Society
Russian brain music perfect lot talk yech;
Mirror Voice of blind boys revolution heat modern evil soul
wearing dancing land story wall
beneath stripper school Christ strippers
asked matter ringers House
***** poem robot reality sister eating sand was then married to Kiss
for free, legs are devoid lord club waiting smell garden pretty brought Angels Alchemy language rich daughter air, died Silver mom tree
birth unknown walls Magic Science wind power Dreams hear Latin gods **** fall Sacred sitting toes turning watching live cops in New Bedford
Park origin painting floor of ******* blond friend genius machine Prophet fell top leaves sure cool loved Mary *** win wrote buried sight meet knees eye play knowledge; pat the radio & dance center the glass & plastic & change Bettie's hairy flesh into flames;
burning corporate guns holding startled tongues out
[table kissing written in paradise angel sleeping
pregnant reading daughters Monster News stood
Bob the stranger hold broken south skinny lights
of Christian towns drinking seconds to the bottom]     **** remembering
the talking teeth simply moved Einstein's witch;
Chinese food Lee's **** rather in the computer
corner publicly ***** on the ground & naturally returning,
waves a gun understanding empty temple's sound
w/ **** feeling ladies a gypsy course clothes;
calling desert takes the planet felt Eve come alive
wrong a teenage muses ode watches speaking
bringing smoke & **** to start meaning stupid enough
& hidden in the abstract winds cutting clearly through her ghost;
where her stockings met crazy Satan street walking & lived to lay Jack;
**** caught in thin shadows ever knowing early on what a sweaty beat lover goddesses ****** penalties; unseen dawn single thanks, straight
turns stands glory leading picture **** ****** on the street of *****,
warm, mad, Jewish & happy looked dying in the sheath & moving,
began lighting torches for all mankind; half singular & older wide leaves are strange; hey, literally bare beach opposite roll held bra happened mistress as much as telling her torn underwear is dreaming weird; yeah, the bright hills are Asian, ordering point bar party drugs because the skin Queens of Midnight the longer you love them; Time will women woman Girls & the Man eyes naked Mother God Life girls; men night hours red light black & long people good *** body; thing poet Hot Dead Space face & feet;
snooch beautiful head going beneath queen earth years white dark places things do u Young thought; Green **** left Art America Big Jesus living; Golden Beauty hereto mind poetry goddess money find Sun ancient city
hell **** War death hard ******* skin great start future blood sea ***** called female room hand poets word fire hair kids six thinking street noun call Dream wife real lost door baby blue true;
knew Middle making history better live Sky Moon Child,
girl open days drunk Igor heard American general told gold trace human hands ***** father; Time cold heaven English yellow bad side of Children write walking person heart kind born turned coming Greek & Walking high w/ three full drinks inside her working on leaving Medusa's spirit a truth stone feeling her holy son wanted a small wild lady widely seen as Barbie's star's gay nature; Kid Ugly Brown book states hole rock,
Best paint year lady cat guy arms writing running standing pink mouth
is going lips form deep century speaks invisible friends mother's Secret filled wet but sweet French keep guys where read dog window ******
field smoking Ivan Society Russian brain music perfect lot talk; yech! mirrored Voice blind boys revolution heat modern evil soul wearing
dancing land story wall beneath stripper school Christ strippers
asked matter ringers which House the ***** poem;
robot reality sister eating sand was when she married;
Kiss free legs are devoid of the lord, the club waiting to smell her garden's pretty store brought Angels of Alchemy's language; her rich daughter air died Silver mom tree birth unknown walls;
Magic Science wind power Dreams,
hear Latin gods **** fall Sacred sitting toes
turning watching live cops in New Bedford Park
originally painting the floor of her ******* w/ her blond friend,
the genius machine Prophet fell on top & leaves, sure he was cool; he loved Mary, *** w/in & wrote of the buried sight of meet her knees w/ his eye playing knowledge & patting the radio's dancing center of glass & plastic changing Bettie's hairy fleshy flames burning corporate guns;
holding started tongue w/out table kissing written in paradise by an angel sleeping w/ a pregnant reading daughters;
monster news stood Bob stranger hold broken south skinny lights christian town drinking second bottom **** remember talking teeth simply move Einstein witch Chinese food let's **** father the computer corner public ***** ground natural return waves a gun understand empty temple sound with **** feeling ladies a gypsy course clothes, calling to the desert to take the planet feeling Eve's *** alive & wrong, a teenager's muses' ode
watch speaking bring smoking **** charges started to mean stupid enough hidden in the abstract winds cutting clearly through her ghost sonata of stockings meeting crazy Satan as he walked; lived lay Jack **** caught
thin shadows ever knowing early on sweaty beat lover goddesses ****** penalties unseen at dawn a single thanks straight turns stands glory
leading the picture of **** & ****** on the streets of *****, warm, mad, Jewish & happy looked dying sheath moving began torches mankind half singular older wide leaves strange; hey, literally
bare on the beach, the opposite roll held her bra & happened to be his mistress as much as telling her what to wear dreaming weirdly, yeah,
bright hills of an Asian ordering                         point bar party drugs
because the skin Queens Midnight;
the longer you Love Time will women want a woman; & Girls will want a Man, his eyes naked on Mother God;    Life girls men night hours red light black long people good *** body thing poet; Hot Dead Space face feet snooch beautiful head going queen
earth years white dark place things
do Young thought Green
**** left Art America Big Jesus;                   living Golden Beauty
hereto mind poetry goddess money find
Sun ancient city hell **** War death hard ******* skin;
great start future blood sea ***** called female room hand poets
word fire hair kids six thinking Street noun calling for the Dream
wife to become real at the lost door of baby blue truth;
she knew the Middle [making history better] live Sky Moon child girls
open days drunk Igor heard American general told gold tracing human hands ***** father; Time's cold heavenly English yellow bedside,
Children's writing walking person heart kind born turned coming
Greek Walk high three full drink inside work leaving Medusa's spirit
of truth stone feels her holy son wanting small wild widely held gay nature of Barbie star Kid rock Hornet brown book states hole Best paint a Year & a day cat guy arms writing running standing
pink mouth is going lips form deep century speaks to her invisible
friends mother's Secret filled wet but sweet French guys keep;
                                                         where reading dog window
****** field Smoking Ivan Society's Russian brain music;        perfect
lot talk; Mirror Voice of the Blind Boys revolution Heat modern evil
soul wearing dancing land story wall beneath stripper school of Christ
strippers asking about matters & ringers;
House ***** poem robot
reality sister eating sand
                       was then married to Kiss freely the legs are devoid;
lord Club waiting smell garden pretty brought Rainbow Alchemy
language rich daughter air died;
Silver mom tree birth unknown
walls of Magic Science wind powered dreams hearing Latin gods sexily falling of their Sacred sitting toes, turning & watching the live cops
in Bedford Park original painting of the floor of *******,
her blond friend's genius machine; a Prophet fell atop leaves for sure,
coolly loving Mary's six w/in wrote & buried the sight of the meet;
her knees & eye play at knowledge bat the Radio dance center plastic glass change Bettie hairy fleshy flames burning her heart;
corporate guns holding the startled tongue w/out table kissing
written Paradise angel sleep,             Pregnant & reading to the daughters of the monster;
the news struck Bob stranger than holding
the broken south's skinny legs in light tights;            lights of Christian towns drinking second bottom killing & remembering the talking teeth simply moving Einstein's Witch is Chinese;
her favorite food Lee's **** rather            than the computer corner's public
****** ground natural return waves a gun understand;
empty temple resound w/ the sound of **** feeling
ladies, a gypsy course clothes calling desert
takes the planet felt eve alive wrong   a teenage muses ode watch speaking bring smoke ****** start;
meaning stupid enough hidden abstract winds cut clearly through ghosts; ****** in stockings met crazy adversary;
walked lived lay jack **** caught in thin shadows ever knowing
early sweaty beat lover goddesses ****** penalties unseen dawn;
a single Thanks straight turns standing glory
leading picture **** ****** street *****;
warm mad Jewish & happy hair looking dyed, sheath moving;
so began torches of mankind half plural older wide leaves strange,
hey, literally bare on the beach opposite the roll of Bras happening
to his mistress held as much as for telling;
And they love the night, there is no doubt of the woman,
the mother of
the Red & Black poets from the body
the length of the ***,
Dead Space by heat, face & feet;
snooch was pleasant, so the next year,
a list of the dark places;
The young think green manure
You can count on the American;
Death of Jesus & living for gold in the form of
Of our minds inflamed w/ the anger of poetry;
they have no money & to find out what is w/in the sun changes
Titus after taking a nursing battle
hard leather of the future land developers of ****
is said to be a part of the sea becoming blood thereof,
by the ***** & in its proper place,
The words of the poet's hands;
Good Hair kids learn about ***
And you think of the way of the name calling,
The woman lost the baby blue dream;
I know that the story is better than the Sky's specific book of Love
Life open to the general American gold, drunk Igor heard anywhere,
English of human hands ***** yellow w/out a bad cold,  & he writes:
Listen to me, & turned to the draft & three full deep inside Fig Greek
1000; Medusa, giving us the spirit of God & His Son of stone
all the things that he wanted the Saints to be,
And out of small things come wild beasts,
& of the beasts; The Aquarius recently used by the stars;
The nature of the gay kids, the book takes them out of the opening
in the Budget; This Rock,                               one of the best brown
In the cat's painting deux,                           w/ his uncle Guy
at 1 a.m. I am in the arms of May it be said that He is not running,
standing, he Came Over to the outside edges to form a good flow of grapes, the world talking
For mothers invisible filled w/ his Secret sweet & wet
The Gauls, the guys are like a dog with a window,
smoking is a ****** in the field,
Russian Music Conference has a very large brainy talk w/ the Voice
of blind glass;           yechy
From the best male wearing tales of revolution
I play from the stripper down the wall of the choir,
he asked to return to the matter of strippers
singing his fingers & toes watching that little *****
at James' House turn to fall
in the Park before the cops sitting on the floor;
Bed genius friend origin
is proved by the moon the appearance
of a picture is above all,                                       bringing back the *******,
Orpheus' machine collapsed,
Gus of necessity of male *** wrote,                     buried w/in
This followed running the show to meet knee eye play ill;
a ray of light in the dance,
the mirror of the plastic of the flesh,
change at all in the flames of the burning
Bettie's corporate guns, I abhor myself,
I began to tongue the [                ] out from the second
it was in the table, I kissed her, their writings are the paradise of Oh,
go to sleep on vulputate fermentum; now the reading
of the daughter of a monster,
a message was on the spot to Bob,
not his own,                                a burst of the side of the shimmering light
in the Christian towns, whosoever drinketh
of the bottom of the Nico, you remember
that it is said to be a tooth to be moved by
Einstein in quest of a public who knows the father of food
in place of the angle of the nature
of football ****, to turn the football the waves
of the reason he understands the mind empty
out of the temple of the majesty of the women
said to the ship, of the injury on the head of Eve;
of thee was clothed w/ him, having understood
the wilderness, the Museum, among the multitude
of the glory of the table of the harlots,                          they give gifts to:
& is to fall into an infinite number of a stomacher,
and held it until so much so that that the head
of the cupid Major mountains of Asia,    highlighted by the fate of more
& on that side of the bar for medical skin,
American Queen, it is now up to you like;
Is there anyone alive in the form of gold's big brothers.
The Latin of the ancient money of the goddess
                                           estranged to the sun,
             Hell fights hard to **** the skin's ****;
a great future in a sea of ​​blood,                                          woman's *****
to the words of the head of his kids
& to his wish, poet of the common;
*** is a way of thinking about the name of the calling dream
& his wife & the baby is lifted up to the door,             & blue
& it is better to live in the sky,        the moon,
when she knew that from the midst
of the history, sons and daughters,
& if they drink in the American,
Igor had to open the country's ***** yellow & gold in England,
some cold air from a bad heart,
children born to write to walk the big walk back to Greece;
Woman born to women with naked eyes,
the mother of a man and a donkey season
is the best poet of the night light body w/ a dark red
Dead Space hot face of a beautiful lady's feet
head is going snooch
If a child is not a dark green color tumultuous years
has left a place where *******;                                           The great art of Jesus ...
wear dreaming weird yeah bright Hills Asian
ordering points to the bar party
drugged because the skin of Queens at Midnight
                                                     is longing for u;
Love &                 Time will women;        woman, Girls in the Man's eyes
upon naked
Mother God's Life&     girls & men at night during the hours
                                                                ­         of the red light;
black long people good *** body thing poet,
Hot Dead Space face feet snooch beautiful head
                 going queen earth years white dark place things do;
Young thoughts of Green **** left Art in America to Big Jesus,
living Golden Beauty hereto mind poetry goddess money find Sun
ancient city hell **** War death hard ******* skin great start future blood sea ***** called female room hand poets' words of fire & the hair of the kids
of six; thinking Street nouns & calling the Dream wife,
real lost door baby blue true knew Middle,              making history better
live Sky Moon Child girls open days drunk Igor heard American general told gold trace human hands ***** father Time cold heaven
English yellow bad side Children's write walking person heart kind born turned coming Greek Walk high three full drink inside work
leaving Medusa spirit truth stone feel holy son wanted small wild nature
of the Barbie is widely gay star Kid rock Hornet brown book states hole;
Best paint ta-ta; Yearly dyed cat guy arms writing & running,
standing w/ pink mouth is going lips form deep century speaks
invisible friends mother's Secret filled wet but sweet French;
keeping guys where reading dogs are windy ****** fields
Smoking Ivan Society Russian brain music perfect a lot of talk,
[yech]                                Mirror Voice Blind Boys
revolution heat modern evil soul
wearing dancing land story of the wall
beneath stripper school Christ;
strippers asking for matter ringers House ***** poem robot reality sister eating sand was then married Kiss free legs are devoid
of the Lord's Club waiting to smell the garden's pretty bought
Rainbow Alchemy language
rich daughter air died,                            Silver mom tree birth
unknown walls of Magic Science wind power dreams it hears Latin gods **** falling Sacred
& sitting w/ her toes turning watching live TV cops in New Bedford Park; original painting floor of *******,                  blond friend genius machine;
Prophet fell atop a pile of leaves sure cool loved Mary;
six wi/n wrote buried sight meet knees Radio play dance center
plastic eyeglasses; knowledge but the change Bettie's hairy flesh
into flames, Burning hearts corporation guns
holding startled tongues
w/out table kissing written;
Garden angel sleeping
Pregnant reading daughters
monster news stood,         Bob,    stranger holding the broken south's skinny
legs in tights lights Christian towns drinking second bottom **** remember talking
teeth simply move by Einstein's witch Chinese food;
Le **** like father's on the computer corner publicly
***** on the ground; the natural return of waves to a gun,
understanding the empty temple sounds w/ butts feeling
ladies on a gypsy course for clothes calling to the desert
takes the planet & felt up Eve alive; wrong,    a teenage
muses upon odes to watching her speaking & bringing smoke
forth from her ****** to start meaning stupid enough,  hidden
on the abstract winds cutting clearly through ghosts wearing stockings,
met the crazy adversary walking living laying Jack's **** caught
thinking shadows forever knowing early on how sweaty the  
beat lover goddesses ****** penalties are unseen at dawn       & single;
Thanks to straight turns stand glory
leading picture **** in ****** on the streets of *****;
warm, mad, Jewish & happy he looked like he was dying,
sheath moving began torches of mankind
half plural older wide, hey,                                literally leaves strange,
be bare, ah, roll;
Push the opposite happened Mistress held as much as telling wear
dreaming weird yeah bright Hills Asian order point bar party drugs
because the skin Queen; They love a female is my naked mother gives
us all a night-light red with black long the donkey's body that the poet's
Heat Dead Space face feet, snooch pleasantly will be the years of white opaque youth he was thinking the green manure left behind are Americans
Big Jesus Alive gold in the form Brotherhood of our mind,
poetry is the deity of no money, 1 find out the sun,
an ancient city,
Heller makes you **** it in war,
death it is difficult ******* skin
w/ a great start going to be the blood
of the sea ***** is said to be a piece
of the place by the hand of the poet
of the word of these golden locks w/ a good kids' of the six
of you are thinking the way of the name calling
of the Dream of the wife, the truth of the loss at the door
of the baby, the blue,     1 knew in the midst of them
to make the story better; Sky Moon girl's life is open
to the general American gold drunken Igor heard
a trace
of human hands
***** yellow English father a cold and a bad side,
write that children born after walking to a Heart
turned to Greek & walking three full high drafts
of M-Theory & w/in the hive, leaving us an Medusa,
the spirit of the son, however, a stone is chosen
to think that holy things of the small wild animals
of the late stars of Aquarius, Gay by nature
the Kids Book of the cities of the Expo opening
on a brown rock, one of the best in laid paintings
is the cat's; the guy, the weapons at 1 a.m. writing
to is running, standing on her rosy mouth,                              should her
die-cast lips to form the deep, the world speaking
of the invisible things of them that are friends
of the mother, Secretly filled w/ thing wet & sweet;
as the French guys when we read the dog in the window
looking upon the ****** field of the smoking Group of Russian
brains;     musicians done up in a lot of talk,     the ***** mirror
the Voice of the Blind Children's
revolution badly beaten by modern life & wearing the story
of the wall built under the stripper's dancing school,
strippers asking for material bell-ringers of the House's *****
song of ***; modestly falling,    James' toes turned to watch
the live cops sitting on the floor of New Bedford Park's
original painting of machines & the genius of the
******* of her blonde friend From ORPHEUM
fell the highest leaves, certain cold loves of Mary's
six w/in wrote the buried spectacle worthy
of the knee's eye playing science for male
suede running on the radio the dance glass
plastic flesh changes completely into flames burning
Bettie's corporate guns & checking what started tongues
w/ the dessert; kissed written in paradise where the angel
is sleeping pregnant from reading her daughter's monster
                                                     of a message
                    that stood
                                  beside Bob's extraneous broken side
of flickering lights of the Christian towns,
drinks bottoms up killing to remember the talking teeth moved
by Einstein, a witch, the public will being violated
by Chinese food of the place of the angle of the nature
of Lee's **** to turn the computer waves of a gun is more
to understand the mind of the empty part of the temple
of the sound of a gypsy ladies sees the course          of an injury to the head,
the eve of his raiment became aware of the wilderness of the Earth
receiving the Sage in the Museum's song that will stand
where the smoky **** is committed
to that stupid lies removed favorite;             cut the Holy Lamb
in two nailed to meet the crazy cast walked
lived Marcus Aurelius maintaining **** & caught a faint shadow of the love goddess Venus known by the morning sweat beading off the penalties that seem light in the activity turned to attending the glory of the bored crew of prostitutes;                         the street of the city hot art mad to Jews happy,
                                         he saw the dying man's sheath having to be moved
had begun,
& the burning of men,       an outstanding component
of the older long leaves of others,                         have not had a the shore
of a naked man being opposed from his head,
         took hold of the bra has happened to the girl's as much
as saying that the fall of the dreaming is of the fate of the Hail,
as     is   that which   is foremost among the mountains of Asia,
        |                             such as a point bar
part of medicine because w/ its skin goes to the queen
of the middle
of the now, do you love our American
Big Jesus alive gold in the form renewal
of our brotherhood of mind's poetry goddess of money
finding the Sun in the ancient city of hell; gobs of battle,
                       of hard ******* skin's great
future of blood, sea & ***** & a woman             is a place out of the poet's
words locked in w/ kids,      six thinking about the way
                                                   of the name of the call
of the Dream's wife, but lost door baby blue,
                            knew Intermediate History
is better to live in the Sky;                                 Moon boys & girls open to
Igor hearing the drunk American General
getting told to lay the gold down                              upon his father's tomb,                          
                   hands ***** yellow in
English time in the cold air & bad heart,             walking w/   the children
                                to write & to walk,                born big turn in Greece
                       will come hither Midnight longing for u