For Word # 2
Sheila E. Murphy
Shear the top of flocked own intersperse. Renege on flowers, renegade. A trip trump triumph glorifies the day-old overcast. This, too, shall lapse, as quiet form of overlap. The long arm of a shuffled feast exuberates the raw mist of the seventh sea. Interpretive domains release our pearly glee. Trimmed fame lords it over flat-lined space and fangled ivy. Vineyards purse our lips for us. The porous ship shape follicles denude the dreamed-of fease. The fall of de-rocked roll commenced to have been salted. Troops to call on openly remained a fact of force. Narration to prop up underage indulgence. Stray from clarity when sticking to the unction rapt. The safest repertoire continues to uphold indemnity. A forecast dupes the unused levers to appease track records of escape from every hatch. Exasperation trains the psyche to go limber. Follow on with necessary openness to stop beyond these days.
Infancy at its most sublime, corrosive sheets of lapse, some bylines balanced next to power
Aspirations bleed their own warm luster. Caverns hold their tact. Apparent sovereignty taps straight-line depreciation of its guise. Cement the prominence by glazing over tendre croppes. Loan a mood to wombs, unnamed or not. The minus column leaves its Braille capacity to waltz toute seule across the stage. Why not embrace the caveats arrange in formal space. Or carry wood to meet the reeds of life at home. Our modesty becomes the sole advantage. Priced to meet the glove test, more than white intentions, spread over easy, sacrificial fields of chattel ivory-tipped. When rim shots fall from clumsy space, we have not inched toward a better thing. Caffeine might simplify the wood or the eraser of the plume.
Twice free furnishings, the setting of example that would paraphrase the sun
Heavenish deportment slenders its way cavernward. The festival has emptied its own premises of guard dogs. Things remain in disarray. Proportional intrusions gift a horse in strumming mouths. Careers are made and bathed and sloshed to quasi-owned subsidiary base. The country music has been plummeting alongside race horse sliding down to graven imagery. Listen to the car horn dazzle unsuspecting neighbors. Crash courses in stupendum graphed a license in the version of a wash. Surrender spaced its way to irksome centers. Blasphemy once crossed swords then met my eyesight boldly, baldly, as precise as strangers' live adornments.
Soothing south side missives clashing with the border officers arranging many sidelines