A
boney face may take my exquisite lick like gutter saviors saving,
savoring days saddening happier blooming radial tires for toilet seats
and off we eat toward tea green seas when our guitar strings need
shinglier sugar coaster rings and here's a necklace for your faceless
lady, and when I'm seventier let's drinklier sanguidlierly scrump
period. A mix run through a run through a mix and lift paper clipped
cunt spunky kitten powder baked boney face taking out its outfits
missing pippy. Digestable moose kidney sculpture. Knocking nothing but
bona fide moose lodging paw served with jingoistic chicken fingeristic
ticks, soon, malpracticing misdemeanors disheveled hangularly placed
within distances of similar instances of disimilar similes. How can you
say ett. Spring water summertime poem summertime spring water
summertime poem for our four fungus omnibuses. How can you say eat my
boney face moose marathoning pippy lock down shut. Blunt shuck the
chuck nunnery. Up. Jaded eco bottle smash to the good luck gunnery
jump. Dynamic. Wok when struck in duck pat cat jab. Digestable moose
kidney sculpture, part seven. My sharp exquisitely mixed lick stained
grounded rabbit focus may miss your tender jelly lip stained boney
nose, my canned toe from the americannery, bless you. Where's the
something's weather boots besides ancienting Frank Blasterman's squid
fresh slaw and ketchup, Frank's boney finger says how much in the
typewriter cannonball, the television incision, the paperweight
hopscotch jelly date? Period. Tuner downtown, turn down the pope faux
pas, sleek, before we're heads in a sewer kilt with parsley. Frimagine
Frat Fumage. The jungle grunt staked to the pylon means the rainbow
ghosts are high on bylines regarding brandy lines sharing gauntlet
boxes under autumn moms. Don't point that atom bomb at the apple
parlor our cougar mother gave dixie dad a bad wake-up shut-up under cup
Vienna meal lacerating a first base save. Punch. Or unch eal ave eal
and the walrus comes a crumblin down to the hell of your neighbor,
Earl, eal ave eal unch. Jumping Judy on Jeopardy: What is part eighty;
digestable moose kidney sculpture garden, the one we'll make love in,
the one we'll rump mumps on, the ones we'll light Haiti on fire for to
appease our ignition syndromes. Renunciate. Reorganize the fiberglass
bones of his face then trace our lines to shine and juxtapose infinity
with it until streams from your eyes are strung strong, long, and
right. Pass me a knife. The sink while you're at it. North. Flip South.
Flip North. South. Jest eh jecket fer yer cells. Mirror West. East.
Mirror East. Six dark and lucently sixes high pick up pick up, ground's
on just even through meatened walls colored brown and tangerine babies
exquisilick tambourine tantrums in valley-maiden Spain. Take your pants
off, let me get a look at your gorgeous grammar. Later, huddle for a
win in the vegan insidious crop of & or % or OR for kidney bean
submarines in summer under tongues, stutter, stutter, got ahead and
suture this clock, stutter, shut from its one thousand eight hundred
four parts, digestable etc. The bones of the grammaphone have a youness
no one is hating you for. One million four hundred thirty-four thousand
seven hundred eighteen. Cloudy. How may our owls howl hungrily
appropriating stereominimal anti-notions absobliminally flutely?
Yesterday? Just run the other way but turn around first, see the stone,
run at the water, see the trees, head toward the desert on the kidney
planet of androtesticulodrema. There's a joke heading toward you, duck.
Tell me to tell the phone to stop sounding hurt, to stop when its ripe,
to eat when its hungry or not or when something's in front of it, or
when the hen wakes up, when the young one runs a lung off, when the
starter motor's juiced, when the pen in your head's dead. Debah sevah
Farah sevah Jurah sevah. Digest my moose kidneyish skull, part tulip.
And run the other way. And there goes your boney face facing honey
lipped Q-tips facing killer bishoped sex goddess garbage tartar
controlled, packed and shipped. Uh. Exfamatory story: Nickel dives in
dressed and sent to them so said them with weapons and twinkies, so
much for the seven dresdens, the hend. Part one of digestable moose
kidney sculpture jargon: so they's right and yeah I say so's here's
when what? for like right on. Sew a pear a punk taught a vixen eight
oaked paint to get a bear a truck tire, hate, yolk, faint. What was
this that said and went higher? There was always this question that
what was this that said. What is this that was said and made to hang
from deceased rat skulls, their boney faces with traces of semen eating
marrow. Address. Ah, the schedule's shot like a grape tacked to a
target, shot by a sling with a lost tooth from the head of the baby
Adrian. Sew a pear a punk taught a vixen eight pears pulled taught and
necklaced. Sew a pear a punk taught a vixen eight nickel dives in
dressed and sent. Nickel dives in dressed and sent when the starter
motor's juiced, sliced, winched. Hatred, but what if I said I love you
and gave you an exploding kitten. Then the bakery would stay open till
Tuesday for us. Now there's a love story in these words forever.
Where's my machete? Where's my oar, I've got to steer my friend's ship
before we drift hipsterishly into the llama sauna a kidney beats
heartly on the floor of. Finally we arrive: Digestable llama kidney
sculpture, part circle part square. Frimply Frimagine Frit: Do you,
Bitch, take Bastard to be yours to punch in the gut? I do. Let's moon
this honey and wax the backs of these camels to surf. D. Use the vorce.
On with it, with it, on, it with on, it on it. Your pop got licked up.
Your rook got bishoped. The compact disc you swallowed is shit. Intra.
And now the smoke detector's been smithereened by the staccatoed
fricasee she'll serve to the funeral-goers going home and channeling
Charles, handsome Charles, see his bust in the corner made of the boney
faces of moose skulls, so don't start a fire, there's nothing to detect
it, take this peppermint pill for your ignition wishing, this herbal
principle for your smoking fundamental amplifier. Dance. Here's a
check, check, death sentence: The subject killed the predicate.
Greeters gents and magmaphants, step up left of the cleft toward the
sword stuck in the giant shrimp scampi. Here's a tree and here's a
snail and here's the squirrel-ka-bob and here's the tree again and the
snail and the squirrel-ka-bob again and here's, oh, a new tree with
condescending leaves and a heart made of tea leaf seeds, trash
compacted and cookie-cuttered. All here in the hard-on of Sidney's
digestable bone scultpure garden of groping, Frank strollering Adrian
around Muriel's naked clown pose. Walk by and she'll ask for an empty
post-it note she'll crumble and eat and weather-talk the day away, fall
in love, out of, in, out, iut with you, so be ready. D. M. K. S., part
F, insert notch of part LL into hole of part UR. She tripped and fell
up the stairs where her hair was braided by Brandy waiting in the attic
for all the falling up braidy girls until the attic's full and they're
falling out of windows onto the yardless driveway, bouncing from car to
car to work to colate the magistrate's blind date's tax returns. Back
to sleeping dream: Sister? Someone? What's this ghost skull floating in
the fridge for? Don't kiss me, I'm rhetorical. Why's dad dressed like a
pirate again? Back to reality: Why's dad dressed like a baby pirate
grandma's pushing in a baby carriage made of tin? Is Shawna still in
the sauna with the surfable camel? We need her out here to lay on the
stones and undulate the clown car, tell her. Can we all please move
toward the garden and get organized, stand in a circle, in a
semispherical meteor shape, next to the kidney, Sidney spit out your
gum somewhere other than the bed of tulips. Now everyone, big smiles,
cheese. That one's going to outer space like my poor dead husband
Jeffrey's ashes I ate half of before spitting the rest at the sky. Can
you tell me why the wine is raining onto our curvy bodies instead of
into the blood of our curvy thighs? Can you whine us why the raining
bodies curve into the blood of our lady's eyes? Can you hope less and
read on? Can it miss us by kissing us gently like a fly lands on a
flake on the land of our stray rabbits passing frenzily by and
chanting? The sun's what's up. During my clever thing I'm cleverly
going to do that thing I do with pickles, where I die and slice the
pick and suck the juice and come to life, clever. Here's what Frank
looks like, a picture I drew, let me describe: chainsaw boney face in
formaldehyde. Remember: Part two: Digestable moose kidney sculpture
visits the Louvre: bonjour je suis
la sculpture de rein d'élan et je fais mal horriblement comme
les souris étant envoyées dans la gravité.
Part ninety-eight: Digestable moose kidney sculpture returns to the
garden, trips over Muriel's poses and into roses. Ala. Ogo. Epe. Take
the soup and walk away, no one will miss it cept the waiter who shit in
it. Ogo. Save me a high C. Ah. What the. The. What in the. Pour it
quick. Part beetle part walrus. Part it quick. Sweaty. Here is earth. A
table saw upon it. And we said it suits us. And then there was light
and we said here is light, ah. And the land happened under. The donkey
walked by. It's the way the world was made, not a bang but a sigh. Ah.
An extriation. Did you notice the woman riding the donkey? Her name was
unpronouncable. Did you notice the gift I gave was wrapped in lace and
velvet ribbon? Did you notice the donkey kissing the moose, the woman
kissing the lizard? What did you do with the bucket of text I gave you?
It was a gift. Pour it all onto the cobblestone path and let the ants
take it. This is making sense. What's a pound of hen for in the den's
buckle drawer by the fire I started? Where's the siren at? Nevermind.
Go to the farm, buy a pig, bring it back, ask it how, while so much war
is won and worn smartly, will we ever get back to the farm by the chart
the general shouted his directions toward and Ronny captured in type
though he's blind and faithless like a wingless plane, a tongueless
tribute, a bloodless bank? Answer: Part gangrene, part visually
impedimental, part temperately clusterjunked. And here we come to the
swing of the thing, swinging and thinking, how did the digestable moose
kidney sculpture acquire that hat? It's what you've been thinking. I'll
tell you finally. The hat was a gift, something I picked up in Haiti.
Take a picture of the owl on it, sit on its boney face before Ronny
fires the cannon and we're all back inside our exhaustion and slipper
time for final pajama wine pillow pouring next to Frank and
Unpronouncable coitusing noisily in the bed above and others and just
lay back, no, I'll lay back, I'll try, the thing in the light has
meaning, we'll find it tomorrow maybe, or if the squirrel jumps its
small ship and into my friend's, we could continue the rowing together,
toward what it might mean for the two of us, while above, planets
twinkle and drinkle their oxygenated oil. See the kidney in the window,
part three: kiss me.