Slammin’ the fit-o-deena–ground lengthwise across a bawdy expanse of thneeds
(which everybody needs)–we took our serenades elsewhere, confident in our knowledge of the occult (i.e. the back-stabbery and latent overall treachery that sorts itself out over the course of dozens of generations) and its ability to stall disbelief as one would when faced with a Mel Brooks-esque (or, to a lesser extent, Mel Blanc-ish) dilemma involving the safety of an entire town, where the hapless protagonist even agonizes over the insignificant-yet-unique blood splotch patterns on each and every last hitching post (with the hopes of creating a permanent photographical installment at the Getty and cementing his status as one of the pioneers of pre-modernized main street massacre legacy documentation that would span the seldom-understood and often-demonized “Wild West” (that is, if he has anything to say about it)).
Tag: cement
Outdone
The asiago bagel lamprey is my nuisance of choice for the moment, the epitome of a rational raptor transgression through a commencement that lasts longer than the first half-life of a carbon isotope.
In the best of all guest house rupee movements, flower stagnation cements the freelance settler in place, one foot frozen, hovering above the ground for seventeen hours of the most brutal self-reflection known to man.
Not to be outdone, maudelin backpackers heave their chests toward the sky whilst sampling imported mangrove root on a whim.
WHARVED 