Sample

Ltd. April Fools Pranks & Gypline Ceilings

like the irony of this sky, like the tears below this, um,

dome of human grief. Or rather, dome over

human failings that twinkle, a

brief calligraphy of voices imitating each other.

Like navigation links on animal skin, like

editing textures of currency. Like infrequently accessed

relieved spring RAM, like building fantasy cable

right now! Like Ghandi-esque malfeasance, like

chance-applied skim-taxi

milk uber-early

transfer dust.

The biggest problem of a crowd

is our own toes.

I stand around with Jordan, Professor of Economics

behind People’s 50 Most Beautiful People.

Dad would basically open the parlor to any socialist

willing to unzip their pants.

One brought a decoy of Leslie Nielson’s modular panties.

Insufficient wireless gate opener remote problems

from self made turban ports

quadrature for sexy binary africa trucks

no smaller a New Urbanism than

oracle party boy gatekeepers on skidoos.

Like a lipid-rich environment of valley-speak & the

natal escapist ping of asparagus porn in the gorge.

Like crackhead McQueen confrontation in Borneo.

Like a weird touchpad on my crotch ready to switch

from timmyboy to Cassandra all grown up.

Like computational panther-styled vegetable garden water

leaving karate in the hallway.

Sample

Turnabout is fair Cynthia Rockrock.

Fresh water bottle mayonaise

while loud speakers gab luminescent auroras of useful info.

This savage unity, synthetic beauty in Turnbow relief.

Into a lovely smile that’s

blooming an oil rainbow. Lovely botulism risk, we agreed it is

disconnected or no longer in service.

Won’t be dumped from handling

carnauba wax in the other prison away from Bill Berkson.

No human accountability in Mineral Management Services, there never was

any golden age of journalism, as we must write checks

to grow this thing. But the people in the middle are bugged

by the people on the other side talking preliminary despair and pizza shortage.

But the slides show blooming fascism in the dioxide corridor, a combined

3rd bloody week of combo-cults and groundwater war!

Back when Roy Rogers, Tom Mix, Gene Autry, The Shadow

and The Nelson Family set the tone for ethical behavior, Greyson Chance

was a spermy gaga in the left eye of the market. When in doubt, you could always

say “market”, in a market, or at a Submersible Refridgerator Support Group.

In the future, plumbing will betray a pained spontaneiety.

People will vote to “give the knife” to the President. I thought

Ball Barkson thought, “Here’s a fattie who’s to maul me

to make his way to the half-mist/mast carnauba wax dinner rolls.”