Making in roads

On the phone can to can.

Love the strings.

Plays it again, no sooner as begins, becomes infected with beauty and reckoning.

Mists of plunder wonders savage playful bold and sorry gusting plussage, sorrow & dole. Lust and bust. Victim and scold. Wonder & scorn, laces. At bottom of glowing disdain is something sacred and insane. Fucking deadly.

Beauty as Death.

Is pitch, wracked & loony, is lonely, gruesome and gloomy –

Screwy! Pinky despises it. Stinky despises it.

C’est la double. To despise that which is mired in disdain, negates the negative, which electrifies its range.

Pardon me, coming thru: all the odds up to seven are primary numbers.

Everything, mutter disdains. Flutter and sink. F.U. Brink.

Nutter butter wink wink wink!!! Hill and Hell. Beauty and Death.

Concessions!

Concessions to madness are feral with affection which, wilding out at breakers, hatch into dead lines, freedoms wringing: do now do now or die. Storming tosses into brinks like a rutting fighter who blinks –

And gets thrown to the waves.

Hare, of the Dog.

Pinky stands up on bowed hind legs elbows bent-in limp like bunny paws, and says to some urgency: Wise men say only fools fall in –

Sits down to unpeal a banana. Lines are down. Nothing, gets nothing: give em hell: there: no: its just:

All the same out there in the rows in the ebbs and flows on your mark and so it goes. Difference itself is undifferentiating.

There’s no way you can measure that!

So what? it doesn’t exist then. And how do you know how do you know.

Mediate the excess.

Another grand sweet pronouncement of new strategy. Ground the zoo in something Noble & True.

Being comprising the situational.

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