"Do I want to be the pudding that ate chicago?"
Well , rice work if you can get it, roger.
I'm afraid I don't get it.
Kind regards,
grasshopper
----- Original Message -----
From: "roger day" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Sunday, October 07, 2001 12:20 AM
Subject: Skin-wobbly
> Two minutes fast, sentinels question me
> as to my effectiveness at winding quantum clocks.
> Have I lost the key again? Could I not find the neutron sink?
> Resonators stand as rebuke, precise
> rotatational energies, captured in a ping-pong ball
> energising hypertext clocks, wound-up italic'd birch trees.
> As expected, NTP re-echoes time signatures accurately, Swiss clocks
> always aglow, full of love,
> oh no, romantic strategies
> timed as they are for nearly midnight, face
> midnight.
> A rabbit, on cue, abundantly beadles on to a field of golden stubble
> between the family hour and the working week.
> Semantics
> now that Kelly oh so loves Felix
> stagger like field-mice
> before their extinction event.
>
> Grass-seeds, scattered over the lower field,
> boot-strap into their next second,
> dynamically acquiring unseen kind targets
> along the herring-bone edge of a hillside's sinusoidal wave
> cradling the plumes' rise and the swallows
> swift ascent in to a radar's tickle -
> - at night, winking lights emerge from star-dust -
> tripling over themselves as a collection of real numbers,
> chiselled from rock, star-stuff inexplicably left
> by the laburnum. Will the Lone Ranger
> appear by the broken stile?
> Will our bones whiten peaceably beneath the black hill?
> Do I want to be the pudding that ate chicago?
>
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