HE WORE A BUSINESS and wore business. Primping prime product. Frock garnishes wages. A mosquito’s misquoting a simple blood cache. Pumped, one pinup prices & pries & plies her simpering stumped pimp. ALPS BULGE. Don't budge. A tactical radiance quick badges lend them. Zebra culls Sunday. A genial slap. Caress of a small, infinite rock. Cult loads balm, shelter. Sigh thickening. Belief, relief. Is grocery anchor primary? The slow fast was pudor’s incarnation. Don’t marry a shikse like your cousin Mario. How old is your computer? Warp buzz of a rote activist’s condescending guitar. Tinkling. Bolted down bulk tempts me to bolt. To seek out an owl, refugee from editorial reek. Modesty didn’t stop him thinking. A longing to induce, tinkering one’s proper lightning sway. Wayward pontiff doffs milky yarmulke, terrifying the pious. TODAY’S PHONE OFFERING an insane mallet swing. Minimum fury embroidering convent secrets and manful suspicions on a billious mainstream. Patio patois and a lush jiver’s flat glut. Gauche glossy maggot hockey. I threw the party out. Deaf splash. Lens leans on rain echo tract. A self-winding cubscout pisses sadly on paucity. It is not sleazy to eke. Cans trap fiercest Seine parcels. A city, clarified, slicks back stiff debt stigma to risk drill of habitat. Bride borrowing a pudgy bridge. Benzene haymakers vow sugarcane. Divine. Gravelly innards traced to hormone deregulation. Cannot blame angular baby letching for ontological protein under blueberry blubber. Have you been saddled with dice- strain? What nectar can sew mountains immune to venting? Astigmatic workbook with extra- vagant personal asterisks. Oedipus’ complexion acts happenstance. This root is a fake. I avoid eye drill with an aggressive safety nut. My charitable teat forsakes usury. Without an invoice, I’m going to massage it? Often tosses out strategic batteries that are new. Dad, I promise not to lose any more companies. We’ll scare up that servomechanism that provokes grommets to honeycomb. And slip into the trans- national gat flood as rational expend- iture for production-rich chording. The thief wouldn’t call you. Infections saw something stall. Son, let not your messy macho strangle an arrogant stranger (ancient, bleakly familiar) on a desert highway because you might be lulled into contractual congress with blindness. Stray? You vote to destroy. Purple carpeting depreciated by yolk scum. Fate slut bitterly inconveniences the whole tribe. Bituminous phlebitis syndicated by clenched unreason. Our leader promises (tacitly) a coroner per corner. Imperial spill imperils loose inventory. Short mop instructions follow, elect- rified. Prole soap harnessed, a largely antibiotic slate, inspired to chop irregulars. They don’t want his appalling sincerity to be reelected. Echo tract reins in dividends. Daring a sewer mob to go bipartisan and package efficient vegetable electricity. DECONSTRICTED SESTINA III Fatigue defers. To novelty? The ball behaves like a lozenge, and that foulmouthed devil incline recedes. I’ve tuned myself to push with ebullient efficiency. Your TV service cackles to irregular mountain rhythms. At a memorial service, several advanced mourners must honor independent fatigue; others, irrationally ebullient, batter gloom primordially. And the ball grows all the way down. This incline abuses our portfolio. We, who should soon retrieve the lost, the loss, with value added, had chafed for emotive headroom, and are punished. A devil whose face has never appeared on blueblack posters or placards, that devil whose distant fancy has conscripted me to fraudulently weightless service, relies on mud enhancement via climate teeter for the torture jollies. When you incline toward your “destined” fatigue, I’ll be a pal and remind you that the ball is not the sole curve, ineluctable insomnia. Here is a mountain rapids’ ebullient periphery. Ebullient with liquid psychotherapy. When the double-shift camera worker curves out to a candid mirror to brave whatever astonishing devil has collected there, you will be fit to linger until eleven pearlescent fish skin. . . . If he tosses the ball too low, the service will thunder into mesh. He may incline toward authorities who butter a contract, not yet viewing how the incline down each evening facilitates a shortening horizon. This grand slam victory was no ebullient gathering of hard mass, but a guarantor of fatigue, as though a studious evil had calculated where harsh competitive slogging’s rage edge can bore an ulcer. Service industries must invent another mode of ball for those herded into retreat by the outsource prophets. Could “my” ball incline to break up? Who told you this service is eternal? Try doubting such mythic immortality. I’m prepared to be ebullient about prospects: minimally reiterative challenges. That “my” devil sports a master’s in fatigue- planting is just another reason to befriend some local herbs. Dripping fatigue may be a constant of much employment, until the ball drops on this dysfunctional management era, until the devil outfit can no longer rely on its camera pool’s branching intelligence, till unionless subalterns incline to ebullient renunciations. First service. |