Rattle secondary flint

my who who rattle bone, got me on the telephone, said you were my buffalo, in territory sold by whites and pulling mustard into fights, bombs a falling, flint stone drawling, southern belles accepted into secondary fancy dress shoe, down your shirt an ice reminder, take a better look behind her, nagging wheels on highway screaming 'how'd you know my knees were bleeding from the prayers i took for granted (not to mention trees we planted out along that same old road where scars from clearcut rodeo took down your pride like bowling raptors sodden with some oily chapters from this book we never published) get together for some breakfast, strike the stone 3 times across that other rock, it should ignite her memory, a place to hold and taste so carefully, mystic lips are kissing gentle cattleways all through the canyon, tears are falling filling channels with their salt and water, hands in hands return and shake percussive notes of gratitude, abundance, moderate inclusive goals for education, telling stories of this nation.

Spare cinquenta

its an all consuming moment, the dig of dollars fistful burning crapshoot mercury, down goes the weasel furnace cake, tracking lines of frosting through counter top terror on this hip swing empirical comic book called fifty.
he wonders out loud and turns up a greenback candystop, while elves are polling ahead in midterm referendum charbroiled afternoon vote tagging rhapsody, that dancing cogwheel no rootstamper can requisition without mouthing words to gregory store television expositions masked to resemble marni tambourine.
attack on faith, military tunic eventide melted across oliver wendell homes and gasping for caulk tube quicksand underneath feet gabbing heterogeneously along cambridge ridges, garden duties, mess kit wrinkles.
he longs trespassingly for yonder timid castle alligator polished tooth beggars banquet donnybrook, helping more squash vanity cap still piece dangerous vocal misfit plague than laughingstock hamper filled with underwire tapdancers.

Mayflowers workaround

there is a certain someone whose visibility, whose discovery of shores yet uncharted, has taken hands with your enmity, garnished the wages of your sin and left the front doorstep open into deep earth deliberation like gasp monkeys cranking on the organ of relative standard mayflower wreckingballs.
april came and went without a word, busy times at work and home and work and home, a bit of travel, lots of time with the kids, stretching dollars around fencepost bellyflops and ganging up on myself at the end of the day to play pin the tail on the therimin. how loopy can one manchild get?
so because dreaming led straight into comedy, dancers pieced together non-combustible versions of hide, seek, turn over, pounce, die and be reborn, fake it, take me to the river, oligarchy, new exhaust system jaguar, act now until the sale is over, mud cracking on the walls, a curtain thumbnail sketch derivative tossed longways behind a grasshopper fishingline.