Saturday 1 August 2009

Michael Jackson is fabulous. I don't care about Michael Jackson.
I see the split and shining glamorous hands all over bodies. The wind is sweeping. Gold blinds eyes with refracting finches playing string songs. Harps galore and mourning. Poor enemies over the sides of venomous boats. A slight head for manored topiary burners. Turned me inside to the mall cops. The children noticed Michael Jackson's drawings and ..that is kind of a little too close to some weird reality for comfort. Will they grow grass and will they ride water slides? Are the days of this house numbered in the stars? Do the stars even notice this house,this place flanked with wild lettuce and black walnuts. Alone in the crib. The stone mountain had faces ripped into it. Tingle tingle little nostril flared up in the hole so pink.dripping clearly weary sink. salt water blues and sand i wont see.
the mall showed up for me today. If you don't speak English.

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If you think you think you should heed the warning of your mother and sister and not risk uncertain sorcery,turn to page 25


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