all through paratactic night flight purred. I nest you fore(close) play-through. when, pray, Dyngus Day? the dry or maybe heaving west of here. alongside of my brother. yessed to pieces. and on top of that inheritance qua legacy qua allegation. use the form intuitively apt. I say this few to serve north crew. and loose canonics, Bruce and you. Topeka was my trap. and now legions of penitents come glued. is this an auto(bio)-grapplive? sconced and yes and yet. the posse's here to fret. gimme them strings, forget the ring. intone the bring-time to my crib. is Adam angling to get mead? no layman's read? I thought not. you?
sheila e. murphy
