Infinity’s orchid is abandoned in the cartilage of denotation. The testimony of string yields a different metaphor. It evergreens the animal chair. Injures the irony of indentation. Denim too racked to mood.
Dig for fangs in combination. Clapboard the tea with apparitions. Blood is lobster red and strikes this vein with sheen. Jaw joy is ocher. The lyric strength of stone explains the storage of age in a wrinkle of falling skin.
There is a tuna ship between two radical realities. The cemetery evokes a thumb. A mode of hat on the rue d’Orsel. Meanings with a crabby density manufacture consciousness in a roughneck. Elvis Presley singing Hound Dog on Ed Sullivan.
Perspective is but a spoon we’ll call secular. The noise of its imagery steadies the consciousness of a centipede in a ceremony of cellophane. Personality chews a palette of springs. Drag these smears to the smell of its opening. Tilt the granite toward the outside.
Buckle your gargle not because the ocean is spinning but because nature’s symmetry jokes at algebra. Mass has wax. Awed is washed for loops. Such bone as might propose a paradigm, a wide-eyed glitter provided with red. Oil and iron spooned in a garage.
All likes a fork in lightning. The desk is treading these words in suppositions of cotton. The arrival of an image makes everyone coffee. The birth of a thought argues the biology of a town. Kerosene mingles about a fulfillment.
An explanation fostered on gaudiness figures a fat prickling crinkle in the sound of a bistro. We are within the prophesy and its growling eggnog pediments. There is a feather in the story that has been thumbed by ganglions and moistened by your interest. It may alter the dwelling. It may stink of eyes.
The biography is hostile toward its own premise. Squirt it for diversion. Power whispers on the path. Awakens the willingness to branch into pronouns. The literal drift of piccolos through a dream of calculus.
There is more palette on a palate than pallets in a palace. These echoes have been tumbled in gauze and their effects tug at a sagging reality of twigs and artichokes. A drug distilled from the ecstasies of painters. Corot on a mountain, Braque in a field of broccoli.
Despair imposes cognition when it is squeezed. It is grease to a key of gravity. An eyeball dragging a caboose to the end of a sentence. Sympathy is deaf to the cries of platitude. This is an engine that conjugates charm, and this is a liquid thrilling with spoons.
Lucidity’s hospital is nutmeg’s Apollinaire. Willow begins a duty by bending in the wind. Milieu is a convocation of crabs crawling backwards. Glasses, or parables, whose meaning lingers in the pews of a dead excuse. Heave at Hinduism when your vertebrae seems to float.
The ceiling must dry in a proverb. Honors tease the cake of maneuvered daylight. Swords are crossed. Songs are sung. The aurora tumbles through its clouds, perforating the fossil of a tragic adjective.
Sheer attacks of improbable hawthorn have ignited the idea of cabs. Stork on a palomino. Another morning of fiduciary ambush compelling and insoluble. Hammer the snow for another heartwood dollar. Infinity is blue when it is lifted by a Fauve religion.
Black when a laughter exceeds its wheels. The seashore rolls through its description undoing itself on the sand. The chrome brocade of a lyric violence tastes of oarlocks and temptation. A clay nude volunteers her nipples. Baudelaire stews in a blob of subversive velvet.
A red intestine singing of rivers bicycles around an oval portrait. Limestone is implicit. Unification is rain. An elbow and a farm might be catalogued as monuments. Everything else is either an excursion, or experiencing dirt.
The National Blues
2 days ago