Iconoclastic Fete Stances 1996/08

On Autumn nights when the rye in the fields has been harvested and put into bundles. Merrily and with stealth comes the cather of hay into the rye. To garner away the faith of accumulated clave ceps of purpura from off the stalks. The bundled stalks of rye.

Politicians would argue to keep the clave crow on the rye and let the seekers have their fill from the milled grain and suspiration throughout the year slowly drawn along. But the cather could refuse and go out to pick a many lot in order to brig back the letryses of the garland with him to make out well in doling the larder of his accomplices. The gud stamp of the dance set.

Occasionally when propositioned by gypsies’ and their ghost and when they had enough some was given away. At the want of the best specimen for ingestion. Simply they are were boding of the thrown chances in a lucred plight. The having of dances in the arms of iconoclastic fete stances.

The politicians realizing the light coming long before dawn. Stalwart in doubt as to the wind weaving of survival in their grain stores and stirs. Wondering without refrain and often shunned. From the interior country where the travelers were known for coming out with the laughingstock of the rogue and rambling, the revelers and a rake.

The fact that gypsies had their own sundries of a tailor and wine to speak of the vintner of bleaky sun aum mantra chant nourishment. Taken heartfelt to dreaming child gait and sweet reminiscences. With strange calender romances they would thus have their dances in private on mountain sides beneath the moon.

Demotic Incalibri

Humane reliques of the earth’s sovereign past. What hear you of these things in the modern theatre? Are the children as bereft of honest charge as the carbon copies? Will the exhumed gold and silver ever get back to rocking and rolling in the turn of the soya count. Dwindling remnant of bones. The contained. The remittent to the even flow of things being tied.

An inhibition to say 💭 things vulgar or not competent in the rhetorical schools foundling. A certain distaff of effective trepidation. How the long going frequency of knits and assuages makes out in the meticulous banter of birds. A gathering coming to the North and its dawn. Fastidious displays of leadership and non sequitur. Each indelible peace in the histories of a nation getting up off of its knees. To embrace the weak forces of nature and say 💭 that Mother belongs on the main. Giving respite to those whose call 📱 goes not unheard.

Commingling in the effervescence of ryman tropes and current metaphors. All glad the ship 🚢 is not sinking. All bayofully at scratch with their devils. Making way in the trades of the music. A grand and verbal contentment in the acclaim amongst the tables of roundabout friends. Each good fellow and glam doll rolling on the crest of the waves that beat on the shore outside.

A Summer house not much fit for Winter’s pasturing. Often the nearest occupant is a dusty ghost. Making out his day on the back of a couch. Meals, rest, and entertainment. Each portion of the day boiling up together into a fust of appetites. Those favorable memories in the mindful exchange of greetings between passerbys.

The quarry of asides deems hesitation break for the wing out upon the tarmac. Its green Sunshine refledged in each clover found to bear its four lucky leaves. A pile of salient drawn salts. The digs of a roving mendicant. Making out garret and grot to the season and the clement weather’s train. An obfuscate and trembling now couched citizen. Gregariously close to the vanity of the lady in her arts. She does not wish to sing alone. An entire choir of the angels making progress out upon the waves. Headed for that furthest ignoble shore. With seed and stamina the new land meets expectations and the olden horn is blown to remember those whose tread fell before this shift of carbon.

This sign of the spiritual throw. With the momentum of a loose flying goose the beautiful and the emblazoned in a rapping flag comes down to a mire of resorts and treats. Withal the blessed pension of a midlander keeping a verbal sentiment in time. For the wait is a look back over one’s shoulder and a barrier with out needing diverse concomitant to hold the hand of the cantor. If we can simply release the bear from the trap. If it were no emboldened goof that limited the exclusion into subsequent divestures. And so the glade is made glad in renewed wander through the dance. Stages in the phases and character roles of a tramping and well spoken crewe.

Fellow friends in an accustomed gate. The North end of the city proper. Where the organic food trucks come into the market space on the square. Near the warehouse that have been refurbished into living lofts and organized corpus of indemnity and the good book 📗 to crow by.

A better dursted landsman into his continence and sharing withal. Concurring streams in the operators style. A realization of a gone 🏠 despondancy in the rising Sun. With bluebirds singing of their happiest schtick about the shrubs and groves that turn from garden to plot. A liberty to wear a new t-shirt and turn the old one into a rag. The best handle on the jug keeps a cork in it. And the olde hound forgets the bitterness of her more frugal appetites. Lets on that she is no more a chaser of rabbits and their tails. Now she wanders behind the child to see him his way down to the schoolyard where the child will bid her take her leave and go. A saunter and a saserdotal memory for the each of them to go by.

Simpleton Seeking Rhyme 1994/10/26

One and the same and I think of this often. One less nail in the coffin. Got to wonder what cloths he’s doffin’. These clues are out leagueing in the rain. I feel a bit certain it has brought me a deep seated pain. As if I have run the full gamut of my grain. The coursers on the track with a haughty swain. Once labeled legally insane. My how I asked to complain. If only creatively I were afforded substance and did gain. Then I could give a jingle the jangle and let it, let it lap at the harmonious in a fell dispensation of the rains. But I won’t be out there in that maelstrom messaging around in my bi-plane. I’ll be quaffing root beer and chucking pizza inside, in a corner, content, and without want to wane. Never die in bed for want of a tongue to give meaning to a blood red stain. It is something I find as primitive as my want to be found in a name. So no more dropping a shift by taking something lame. For I have found it is a no good old hilarious game. Though it dies early it is not forgotten for being tame.

This good gal I have got has on the goods with her raiment. Mister Bobby really just saps like hoopla about making the necessary payment. But as I can see there is no real telling where they off and went. I’ll win the lottery and none but a penny will be needfully spent. Then I will just go and give where I never lent. I’ll be a philanthropist or like a politician remembering all the babies he’s kissed. Can’t go and wake up in the morning there wanting to be pissed. In fact that bitter little witticism of mine might not even belong in this list.

The seldom gleaned but growing green of indich cud. Creeping along for some ancestral and graymalkin coping mean. A light’s reflection made this out to confusion with suds. Let the pruning gleaner round up a levee flood. Cold wash away the cow’s own barn-red blood.

And so we see it is for this good kid to remain in her trust. And though she can taunt a bit with her outlandish ways there is not a grain of sand that should go bust. So come on enou, righteous and simply, stop that poor reason from being your fuss. I’m telling you so I don’t have to go out on that limb there treating you to none of my cuss.

Thrice I delivered your sayings to the ends that were loose. My livelihood thus made out likened unto a Western flying goose. Some of the incarnate wars dropping their tools and bringing out their respites at a truce. She made up neither a name for the freshet in her locks nor the child without labor on her back in a papoose. But when back it came on the much emaciated bull moose we found he had gotten his stockinged feet stuck in the fecund sluice. We already knew it must have been how the honeybee squeezed a lemon to cure with his nectar and juice.

The queen could hold him tight though at first they were rather attending to something of a boost. The varied and auld diffidence fared its way through. The media and its channels right on out to the news. So I sat around and came up with a song for her I called ‘That Kind Man’s Blues’

They came calling on me, so I figure I had already paid those dues. And you know, I am older now and I understand more of the assignations behind the stemming of the loci and voci proctors in our melodics. And stone’s throw wooing of this foundling and nascent innocence. And yes even its delightful dumbfoundedness in the mete of these so many efforts. Out to know our very own peculiars. Our relaxations, and our austerities. As well we would choose to afford them a good string or two, a few clues. Shifting in these reels I almost feel like the sour in the mash of some homemade fruit-top booze.

Can’t Let You Be 1994/10/26

There are angels disappearing and the devil can’t let you be. There are angels disappearing and the devil can’t let you be. Only the right good son of man around here can set you free. I do hold a belief in a kind and endearing Lord. Travel the same dusty roads Angels have trod before. Ring out the calends with drumming dowel rod accord. And if its some fecund parse of earth that helps us live. Then we don’t trespass with want of our retractions to plod out afford.

Is God our own genius wood? I’d listen intently if I could. To the simple young man’s text uttered aloud. To a zealous awaiting crowd. When death its face will show to our ancient55% ancestral dynamo. It can in double helix twists continue to intimately persist in fratyries forma conceive of and consist. It is a masque only fit for portrayal of what the mind does resist. And the morning of our songs rises on this land to rapsodize and5566t l6ist.

Even in harmful animal gyres for what was once bereaved quickly expires. To reach loftily some foreground skyward. With a good heaven for our abitrator and bird. 56556565A dovecoat passerby noticed for his laurel leaf making out the rites in a customary way for the settled beast. Who turned his manes(manse) to the east. Where stands the last blown away blood shamed priest. To think on some old Western religion there was a due. Here troubling our game of ‘duck, duck, goose’.

So for a love of life and a father’s trust there recedes, like new ambers int66666686o the wood, shadows from a researcher’s bust. The long walk on a frequent road to meet up with some of that tireless dust. The old steel mills of Pennsylvania under their guarantee against the blades and axeheads. Unkempt and troubled by the awakened introduction of moisture and then rust.

Hello 👋, Hello 👋,

Offal Care

Offer care at a level somewhere. Above awares, are the sublimns of any lesser importance than the sort? Of matter rooting in its form. Is it motion that brings arc to bow? Those lengthy gaited and hallow strides in the revolution of their quandary. The cross borne plots of matter. Through space in motion. From the gravity of a fallen leaf or water down a stream.

The moon askew in its round from the general hobnobbing of the planets. And then the sol in its fascinating wheel twinkling on and off. By verifying a round succor. But itself triambulating a course of 4 motions or rather 3 motions bearant upon a core vessel.

A keeper of sakes floundering like some new fish on the dockside. And further be the plane in any reaction of numerous flight. Gaiting in volumnicity and stratagem. For some period at a reckon with mindset. And relative conjuncture of paradigm. And orthodox mitering at rite with revelation.

Could the octave and its few scales bear upon representation of the universal colossus? What to praefect the learning aptitude. And settle any qualms against practice and well contained hypotheses. It is a duel tremens that airs the third. Dimey at a mention-duration. Long enough to pick a gait. Long enough to bow under and lay.

The ground strewn in its contesting bouts with revolution(entrofusion). To find some harmony in this epochal. Like ratios of the interning fate. The smallest besmidgeon and the longest tide between ebb and flow. It is some method of emotion at a virile stance with any affection or fertility.

The fuse of consciousness looks for new and different means. To accept or rather digest the influx of such matter with precept in one’s self. Wit’ the rationale at want in garner for report. Some pliable civilized cant with the theros of imaginings making mendicant the hallows or shaded side. Some relative use, some mythic livelihood that grips the conscience by the whole. And then receding as if it has brought a new sketch of the stars to its own focus and frame. At a mete with science, at a core for sure. Yes my indigenous side still hankers for the evolutionary stuff.

A diversity of intentions has the watern soul, in converse, in sure measure, and to smart with such dole of the indicative and thoughtful process allured. A cohesion of spirited trains in the mirthful respect for one and his cohorts. This acclamation in encouragement for the pathos of the mind. How seek it, I, with cant equippage at the outset in the paranormal array to lay against it. Meditative states of robustness and boundary. The eternity space of marques thrown near to capsize on the shore. A prince of the heathen starside village.

The reinforcement of historical credence drawn by not langouring, not smuggling the mishap of a fallen dawn. Does the baroque cavort upon a surface or is it more a wheel milling of the course in its figure and number. It would seem the motion enrapt of self and charmed by offspring. To look back estrailing on some dremarian conquest of the exhibitionary mien and liege. It is curious that a revolution enkind could be left here remaining in odd sorts of spiel. In odd parts of a fused wheel. Or spiral or snaking filibuster of its coil and mane. The freeweight accumulation of firth and bow.

A last handled paying of the homage to any mentos serendip that escape the beauty of the rose and its stone in a messianic attempt to bridge the gaits. With cross-reflex inter-temerities of an awry muscular flex. And the Saint of a lock and bar counting up his cultural whereabouts with his head like a man.

On more than one mission at once. A mark skanse his halidome. Raising in shape like a stand before the new days rising sun. A penchant for non-vehicular movements, read to all like a list that fate is no worse fare. For a better common good than one who’s tune seems strong enough, but fails in its distant recoil and falls too often like a limb to the wind or other such disparaging weathers.

K

Kilimanjaro, Killington, the big K. Food as stepping to the big time. Skunked out. Goes further. On a VW microbus in the 70th reign of an old codger. Tramps and homebodies make exchange out of turnovers’ throe and the gauntlet of an idle caste into cold lounging Thebian Democrats.

Reading up on the precipitous designs of some Wintertime haunts. Slave papers of the Federalist broadside. Truth be knowing, or rather the persuasive glam disreputers of the qualm surfieting backdoor of proper sensibilities. Peradventure amongst the conquest of lies. Those suicidal trappings of almost or not quite good enough. Maybe you had better. So don’t try that again.

If the length of day in a given season’s countenance were to get down to business. Were to propitiate in the realm of constancy. Gave up the number of lost sheep to the sorrows of the shepherdess. With her spirits in ascension and the night offset by the relative darkness of unconscious knowledge. A way of precluding the alms satiety of being prepared by the wellness of sleep.

A manner of exercising in the house of dreams. Finding those functional and elavating nuances of the word and its relative frames of reference. Resulting in the accents and conditional quality of those terms patios and divergent. An open door to the daybreaking ahead.

The Eastern primacy of having gleened proper rest from the depth of field accomplished in an eight hours long bedstay. Drawn through quarters fit for dream reveries and lowdown decisiveness of consistency. The morning dew and those dramatic urges of the spiritual cast into the hourly sands making their way through the glass of a welcome night’s keeping.

When the day remits the progression of a rising Sun to the congress of what is a lot like kicking up the dust to make hazy the gathern light. Between blue morning and rosy Sunset the mind does tend to its weal. The body also must have needs gain its impetus. Extending welcome to those things of worthy exercise and the accomplishment of works.

Emotions on the side of the heart that turn the tide of physical constitution and earned completeness of an otherwise foundling figure. Also, to make a day out for the good and fulfilled, there is the quest of spirit. Be it a blessing of the Angels for their God or a recouperation of over exertion in the field of bodily rigorous and doubty awareness.

And of what does this stem? This mindfulness of those things advantageous and fruitful. Contemporary in the continued state of peace. Willingness determined by regularity of gait and foment of thoughts upon the sharing of the family tide. A moral aside and the rest of passive entities in the later days rank and file comprehension of those things learned by craft and given to care and by lore of rote.

I will save my chiding of the unresponsive diaspora for its own sake. Let the post know that there are refutations upon the score of the leaden weighted waters. That there is a scism and a stigma between the feats of Mother Nature and those unnatural tendencies to try and make propitiate an unyielding religion.

To worship a God in heaven to me seems the best way to surrender my soul to the rising and falling tide of a practice made out of prayer. Moving forward afield and very far in the daily processional of time and its capacity to make out the liberal turns of its touch with human agency.

Within this church of the earthly matters. This proud Mother of the legions of Earth. She is many faces of beauty and familiar discernment is her vast memory of the way things once were and how best they might also be brought to fruitfulness once again. By the limn and deskry of her peace, her nature, her clear ides of the middle path.

That is no onus. I say the mark of a fool cannot too long go without the notice of its parentage. If they in their role remain faithless know that the condition is really much worse. It is not truly that they are alack. It is really rather that they are a quire full of many consuming beasts.

Out of my earshot and ready to stop the presses until they and their paper tigers, their paper and fire, is just as quick mete with its remove. The word, you sense, is an old and humbled matter of typical things. The reason for liberty in its experience, for exercise in its creative measures, and for conclusion in the leading tones of its more impractical discords.

It avails all, none the less, in the simplist way to stem from praise, from fear, from experience, and from the storying tendencies of repeating its understandable means. By occasion and lesson and to a considerum at bouts with speech in making acclaims outright unto statements of desire and want of beauty. The commiserate levity bound in an incorrigible manner of a culumny to wit. Baubles of that which betides in the carolous fallacies of too much to go by.

The futile judgements of prayer. The tried over and crass notion that what becomes is at best a state of the estranged and lucky. The beat and the dread. The devil and his folly. Mi thinks a ring like that is hands down shared by the many over the few. The parallel against the spoil of loath. A lord beknownst unto sound commitment of conscious, current, and glad triage of days. Port of call and beck of downs respite lacking dodge.

Within the realm of most folks the ‘raison de etre’ is a unique concept. It becomes clearer when one realizes, when one is coaxed, when one is taught the understanding that we have a good hand in our own fate. That we are not bent, that from birth on any progressively inclusive means of raising our spirits and our children and ourselves out of the primordial soup of time manifested and life encapsulated instancy.

A system of relating one to another or in a group setting a cast of players in the guise of costume preparing and acting out the nature and elavating the notions of a determined and estelliate sense of meanings. Through the agency of its players in the most capable manner of an acquired practice.

We are not alone in our cosmic interplay of good times and hard fate. We are simply being taxed by the efforts of those others whom will not just take care to take care of themselves and out of the business and livelihood of a regular and empassioned crewe of conceivably infinite beings.

Whether we are looking straight to our fore or we have compromised our situation. Must we be bid our remove at least? This unto the general condition of consensus values. That it can be ellucidated upon and we can believe in the ability to think for ourselves. Let us seek out confidantes and have the need for a mutually resciprosperous call to respect ourselves and others in an equal and well tempered conservation. Called for as our very same individual and personally attributive existences can go on and continue to prove to be true unto ourselves, our loved ones, our community and the nation.

World renown is best left to the ages. The tide of folklorico in the histrionics of a plaintive tadoo. Given to the muse and welcome unto the uprising of youth. Gerrymandering of the suit. A gilded splinter left haywire. Finding relief only in those same sands of time that the hourglass itself remains to continue to behold.

Kettle Bell

Looking into the gloom in an amusing and songwriting kind of typecast need to presently go about the ruins of this late war. Without fatuous displays make good on my coventry and in God’s good service, try to at least, to bring about weal in earning my wage. If this need to attest, to query, to make good on promises and petitions. And the descritory confluency of ramshackle husbandmen speaking of womins and lambs. Also Clara, and Elsy and Bessy, and May.

That the fielding of ryeman and crossbearer go passable into the drink and are reliable beholding unto the pools of a shoreline ocean at low tide. Good enough to collect supplicant realities of the rolling sands and the cut loose bottoms. With currents of the old whaleroad coming to bouts. Drawn upon the sea from the outlet of rivers worldwide and deluvian in their release to the high spirits. Clowning the rafts and jambs in their escapement of fealty unto the campus of those broad waters.

A crow’s harbour of the woeful and right to pity. A last ditch effort to get up to snuff in the lackaday and upright and relieve the hoveled and the pinched. With the nuance of charming clatter and the charge of a hospitible drum. Hoops and solace in the turning gait of independents’ that quivels and spits, burns out and fiercely requits the display of teeth.

With every other semblance to the reel strayed out to a glen of the fielding career. The gear and the Wright’s foot. A kings’ ransom for the fearing of civility. The goat’s head soup of a cavalier and assuming despondency. How it clears the roof and supports the filch for his carrolus innurement of medicinal blends and denatured tinctures.

A breadth of cover inclement to the diaspora of run down streets. The emblazoned recalcitrant, a stuffed goose of the bonnie pike. How now brown cow. Where does your garten frail its picts? Are the wicked and parsimonious the same flagrants of repasse as the rioter and his ill acquainted dogs. Not to die outright but within the guise of the earthly church. That sovereign empowered in the creature beats and elemental scions of the dutiful and fruited.

Surrendering to the clandestine hinterland of subjugated viands of green. As if the running down of burr and tawn. Where in the sidereal cogent of placer rhymes and cordial assays makes good on the all to often henpecking of dispassionate qualms and painted glare of a south going mystic.

The book gets thrown. The laurel crown it falls along with the thorny and them gone up and died. Only the ivy seems to understand the apparent lack of penchant honesty in the tooth gnarled pugh and quarrelous hangers on. If you don’t know then you are a lying fool. Got no real need to identify with any other than the devil and his Satan stick. Always in repair and high tallying to the tune of ignorance too toward earth-centric consistency. A regularus mood disparity amongst the locus of illegitimate sinners. At taught with the steal of the official broken plate diners. Without, the gone mayers just continue to place their jimmy the crow spinners and say I me mine you stupid farce of Witchhazel and blazing beginners. When the lie ties off it is at the betrayal of its persuasion. Not too many freakshow winners left to bring in papa his review of the wicked kempt treats.

No most of those people wound up kicking themselves in the head before they could get out of the way of the mess they were bringing. Eh? What’s that? No repulse for your thoroughfare. But I thought you were assuaged in your horrendous reprieve. Don’t tell me your back here for being such a complete pain in ass was all over again. Well the sickness of disease does enjoy the voluntary slave. Much booty to go to their bouts with chainsaws and watchers and in short order bring on the remove of the shrubbery. From its reminder, from its satiety, from its mien.

Wise Gymnasium Treats

Once, when I was 21 years olde, I went to sleep on Christmas Eve, in a Gynasium with about 60 other people. It was all gentlemen and we were in Los Angeles and the gynasium was serving as a men’s shelter. I was in the middle of the room. I had an acoustic guitar and a backpack under my cot to worry about but given the general report of murmering voices in the candlelike light and the wealth of good Holiday spirit that all of seaside Southern California is known for, I worried not and slept through the long night. I believe it was about 10:00pm and I think I slept until 5:30am the next morning.

The entire trip I was on had started when heading out of Eugene Oregon, looking for a Thanksgiving Meal to go to with the folks at ‘Welcome Home’, I had misplaced the road I was supposed to be on and was faced with the possibility of traveling quite a bit further and took that opportunity to continue my trek. And so within an additional day or two I hitchhiked all the way down to Santa Barbara CA. I arrived downtown late and caught a musician in need of some help with his gear and to thank me for my service eventually offered me the ride that would be my final leg into the city of Los Angeles.

This was specifically Venice beach where I can remember simply walking out beyond a cement outcropping into the sand to seek my bed. There with a tough camping sack and upon finding a depression in the ground I fell until morning into restless blissful dreaming about Tinseltown and Hollywood. Hearing the waves and some few nightbirds I was able to get to sleeping a good night’s rest before the rising Sun and the sleep in my eyes woke me from my dreams and showed me to a good and really new kind of day.

This is how I began my five week stay around the beaches and on the streets of Los Angeles in 1989

Familiar I

The light. The inexorable light. The ecstatic light. The candleweight ten thousand of a poetic slam. Muses entitled. All the prilly things getting the respect they so rightly deserve.

Roses. Innumerable roses. A wide throwing arc of a many varied idle for the gaiting of syncrons. The envoliable and the berthen. Have you heard of the elegant strength of the garden insect. Shouldering such loads as are befitting of no much sorrow. A glad but rather kind of tropical offering to the ecosphere, environment, and the holy ghost.

Within the 10,000 gathered around their guru. Where the mountains loft high with their sing. No such evil herald of mere shambles. The bridgers and gateherds making out gumption of acquittal for proofs and surprise guest for retreat of the following discourses. The penchant in the jack beam. It riots with flashes and rummage of troving capraisons. Baggage of an emotional Crewe. The training days of nine to five traffickers and last ditch doggone stray sailing brainstorming boo.

A slight tornado in the prognosticators kit. Casting lazy rounds in the temptation of genius; fro and too, forth and back. Avast the monikers and winemakers of intimacy make clamor about the buckshot kings. Their trump acres going down dressed to the carting nines and dropping some to the tune. Labored of a loosen. Anyone such just might expect to rightfully come down and have want to make out good share with either you or me.

Indefinitely an acquired taste for the mantle in the root. A backward driving of the mnemonic into the spiritual accesses of too many heads out upon the water. In a tree up on stressing caresses and having you got a light for my shmoke. Well to have a go by. Maybe the leatherweight gatha of Eli’s gin. The congealed topher’s grace verbatim inn of locus utopian commitment. Borne to chattering solace of cold draught jockeys making grade away within the deadhead and under the bus mentality.

A license to wake aimlessly high into the mounting diaspora of a knack knacky going on dread desert. The justice of delusion secreted away on ops raison and systematic succoring of a sooncome fealty for sleep. Even if that foment of the dreamy tests happens to come to one upon one’s own rather two feet.

No real chump really. More a fanatically indirect mother of all feckless swimmers. Rolling in the diatribe school, philosophically funky profundity nappies homme. Leverage and the Sunderland wild hominy cakes boughten for sustinence by glad treatise folly crawlers. Busy like comparative of squelch and boondoggle. Embrace of abrupt handle. Bandy as well too. Glyph in scripture homespun down holme pride.

A placard of reprieve. This one that one either which or haver he and thee of honorific glory. Into the reach and see building the house of our very Lord. Balls out the frenetic claspings of broached volitions and synthetic cellophane sleepers. Attorneys coming fore by day from dark. The gravitas of morning whelm me over in moral values. The 1st glam, the drawn society of clever running madness.

A merchant’s quick seat. A clipping Jenny in gastronomic forces of a calumnus huzaa. Blues of windowing kettle pots. The hostage sorry and shirty dress down capers of nokay recapture from hostage arms. Holding and gathering. Gliding and bearing the dippers bear out in telesales at our equippage and beg the genius your calm.

Well in knowing no more dole from the cathecumin pox. A stellar flagrant of the treaty make on get a long Moxie’s. Doxies with respite and dawning lightfold upon the tremulous sleepers. The abased and the communal. Peaches on flatbed trucks going through detours to now face the house of saving graces in the guise of there responding travel sure sports.

The wanton and the alack. The breath fire of an insipid flow. The masties say water bends all but the showery landfills and occasional spark of tinder. Little glad louses make blueberry jam. Tunable to the froward bandoleer. How many courageous sons and daughters fled that hostage of prattle. The guts and glory of a nation. Plum fool of the silent heady changing a list of deadline periods and rifts. Storage at the garage and the attic and the local house of three lock boxes near by where there lives anyone such as you.

Leave it high. Galvanizing couriers making out Northwest passages to the great release. Deign well the fragile fisheries of the pilts down plethora of puck, pugh, and pages of vellum turning. Candy at her best aye the eye for the winners and the beachfront launderers. Each of whom must return to the bye and the killing press of contentment. Glazy eyes in availing pristine birdies be drawn.

The restive, the trust, the know it all. This a following tide to lay back on quarry and say at last sign the desert of altruism. Let go a fancy for the psyche and judgment collar released, quieted, drafted away and brought nil to silence broad and soft gliding swan.