envy oars rot tight; |
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His ears are in the right place. But only because they were made that way. |
| a semenal work of mink and with levity arose hiss dust, caesura of wryd and wyrm taut under the camper tree. devine on the trelis, spiriting unto the loon and his wives. his wights and the wrings on her fingers. the wrongs rang right unto the wriggles of the writher,
steadfore neath the chill. |
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| Ask him of his origins, and he will tell you any one of a number of stories-- all entertaining, and all completely fictitious. Ask him again, and he will tell you that he came from the static on the radio. Demand an answer, and he will tell you he built himself out of spare computer parts, plastic, chicken fat, cigarette butts, drier lint, cardboard, come, crackrocks, and your mother. And it very well might be true-- that is, if it wasn't all make believe. |
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Making things come. Making things go. Making people believe. Making people stop believing. Painting things pretty. Seeing how far the chemicals can take him. Swallowing clouds and buildings. Telling stories. Telling stories. Having hands. Having eyes. Sedentary flying. |
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with a skinner vit vye vita et amorosa pourlain cloach of the brackish knit confide the strife of avorescing squirmishes tildeed the vapour epithreat. |
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