and why is it that I should do that, Angel?
2009/11/5 Angel Marquez <[log in to unmask]>
> oops, i meant
> eat a bowl of dicks kasper
>
> lol
>
> freudian fumble
>
> On Thu, Nov 5, 2009 at 1:22 AM, Angel Marquez <[log in to unmask]
> >wrote:
>
> > eat a bowl of dicks kelson
> >
> >
> > On Thu, Nov 5, 2009 at 1:19 AM, kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]>
> wrote:
> >
> >> haha, pretty awesome. nonsense at its most poetic, and really nothing is
> >> absolute nonsense in poetry because the mind shapes it in spite of
> itself.
> >>
> >> KS
> >>
> >> 2009/11/5 Desmond Swords <[log in to unmask]>
> >>
> >> > This Is But Our Quota (Part V)
> >> >
> >> > 'I' am the back-arched
> >> > leading a little from the lip,
> >> >
> >> > a scenario arrived at via the possible
> >> > scenarios arrived at, in cartoon bubbles,
> >> >
> >> >
> >> > blaked warm lines strapped in bulbs
> >> > here and there, not hard to sell, or win
> >> >
> >> > proclaim from the frozen backside; angels
> >> >
> >> > still in situ, about to sail, either shoulder
> >> > ebbing with ill-informed cartoon bulbs,
> >> >
> >> > or bubbling within against my own bones.
> >> >
> >> >
> >> > This Is But Our Quota (Part IV)
> >> >
> >> > ill-informed, but at least formal in dress,
> >> > on the day a June dress getting longer
> >> >
> >> > and longer and nothing imminently there
> >> > harmful or prescient, sugar too another
> >> >
> >> > multitude of aphoristic flex, stretched
> >> > in order to get the palimpsest dose
> >> >
> >> > of in Roman aphorisms with hues of romance
> >> > awash in the poem dark anger, trying to get
> >> >
> >> > participants some all-wear out of the p’s I
> >> > donned within when poor little criminals,
> >> >
> >> > lyrically able, at the bottom of our Xmas card
> >> > list on the precipice this nomenclature
> >> >
> >> > sitting here (in front of you) the prophetic
> >> > neckline island tying not to notice, but a tune
> >> >
> >> > around a simple houseplant pointing finger
> >> > glove box far down her blouse, you are aphids
> >> >
> >> > descent-seat none appreciate but the scop
> >> > down song off her shoulder, totally, totally
> >> >
> >> > you obverse thin walk, long drive objective
> >> > to write our name on your behalf, correspond
> >> >
> >> > dispel an unkind rumour of who isn’t in, or out
> >> > to romance ther spirited beast, wild within
> >> >
> >> > where you need to go to join the required dots
> >> > laboriously put together, assembled you are 'I'
> >> >
> >> > inversional ooking through the wrong colour
> >> > in a right way, packing cheeky smiles in eyes
> >> >
> >> > your l is all on the wing of flight for, far out
> >> > they’re your jewels, they’re where I left them
> >> >
> >> > there.
> >> >
> >> > Thanks very much, a great piece for making Write-Through with; which
> is
> >> a
> >> > superior-flarf which avant-gardists would say:
> >> >
> >> > 'Hey, cool, that's free exchange, done because of a deep professional
> >> love
> >> > for language in all its guises, straight or non-main, MS and NMS, both
> >> out
> >> > tribes tied by one bore - you who is 'I'.
> >> >
> >>
> >
> >
>
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