the heat of ten suns

where were the French when we lost our pinot grigiot and ginger snaps smiling like an August bank holiday lark. If I could see that spiced salmon wedding cake again it is likely I would have changed the descision that made aweful noise during the parade we had at the estate waiting for the boys to ungamble sets of traditional Chinese brocade and fetishized tortises under the heat of a thousand suns.
but where have they come now. Its not often that we are allowed to open the hollow places inside of screaming raisins in the microwave oven. The usefulness of a thousand dashed ambitions upon the rocks of solace and congealed headlice praying to god that there isn’t an acrid scent on the breath of the banal people of the sub saharan.
I frequently think… understand that this is all a dream within a dream within a cherry pie filled with omens that send us ideas of a better future but in fact withdraw all bets from the lending banks correcting us mildly but firmly with the strap of a leather boot.
from nonsense comes equilibrium and from rest comes actions. From the very bowels of th earth comes a rustling sound that makes us shiver deep inside our souls to know the reason why? Why? Why is creation always opening new avenues of thought? Why is the light left on in the tea room when you leave? Why does my pinky toe stick out farther than my index? Also the question where? Where have all the flowers gone? Where is Frank Lloyd Wright when you need someone to build you a new office building? Where is the modest sun tan and quiet lace corset when you can’t find your keys and don’t want to go to work because of.
Some argument you had with the town’s papal representative about dogma and the need to sew the fallen October leaves together to create a lovely paradigm that encapsulates various trends we have been moving toward since time immemorial. Who will give use our daily bread, where does our peacemeal work come from. Why are there no longer any More branches of archaic schools of thought that suggest something that goes beyond a mere metaphor and broken sylabary into epithets that confuse our disdainful minds and make us weary and old?


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