Now affairs.
Play them bipolar at 27. At 18. At 34.
Porn, play Beautiful.
Play the Green Lake. Asleep.
Oz it beautifully. Oust time.
The Lake mimicking though inhabited signs
it feels the humans passing through it.
Lake bright. Silence
comes on a horrible menu surface.
Bright liar. Light
mating surface.
Forests and their narrative sneaks.
Operas more lovely
than weird advice
plants give other plants.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
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2 comments:
I think I just found you through coconut poetry, and then Wikipedia. Very cool.
Thanks and thank you for finding me lol.
I found a coconut that washed up on a beach in New Jersey once.
Til the end of my days I will wonder if it was a "real coconut."
Like from Tahiti.
Glamorous as what's his name ruining himself.
Or just a New Jersey coconut somebody didn't want.
Why should it matter?
But it does.
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