Caecilia Marcusi thus proves fermentation was the reification of
civilization raised three whole hands to the Magritte sun, pow-red!
Crowned for ground like what time does it do to point in (hat
in hot hand) the same direction as a Christmas tree faces
all ease and wash out your mastered hair of canyons hard with
crayoned with so often softened dusty boys and breakfast nouns
glut like penumbral plumbery spelling out Earth’s salty rims, for-
thwith, many animals wipe their noses on their mothers’ abdomens.
Non-competes, for history excluded finishing long lunches. Hurry
on much about your relay that has that the tangled hitch conceded
what all the ever-were rivers weigh, non-things dispassioned or a nan
dispossessed, quartered for the last true heresy is analogy: blest Onan.
Take me for ten hours ago four wings spread images two white-line
epics once perceived we rived the party of bosons and morons. Onto-!
Pisces, gentleman, they say, have clumsy portfolios. It tracks, per
haps, but nine times of ten said regulation is strictly performative.
Now the girl. Ah, the girl. Forgive, the girl eats a blonde apple in punch
champs. You’ll see in what frame rate that coincidental hell is mustard.