Plentus knew O was to rendevous with U. Mr Went included a marginal reminder. The damnedest to fathom, or went there thinking alike. Brags the haphazard unbecoming the literal. Tangent royalty waiting for shoe or grave machine. Qua ethnic sultry day in day out, rosy crucifix under a therapeutic garter. Honesty teller over library trouble waged ear after ear of fitness longings. Whom not, I'm one, core of bloodless A & a botched painting out of sight rocks the metropolis. "It's what you do best" a doppelganger if ever the crust broke. Blind junk tumbles or feathers where flowers stumble. Stood up to & rusted shut a stipple afore the rackmount slavery.
On May 31, 2005, at 6:46 PM, Alan Sondheim wrote:
On Tue, 31 May 2005, mIEKAL aND wrote:
THE CAVE CHILDREN OF NEW YORK ARE NEVER FREE
freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose
nothing is nothing and we have everything to gain
our brainstems are strong and our ruddy mouths protrude
we blow hydrogen bomb kisses we're promising the world
our sidewalks are strong and cheery
they glare red in the aftermath of human
