The princess is deformed and the steppenwolves conformed... pioneer ghosts wander the sprawling mechanic farms: their descendants dwell in skyscrapers and some mole peoples
William-Kate tea-cups help millions recall screen dreams... "freedom" a used bag Zeus' orphans can be found, sprawled like rubbage around the greyhound station Colorful roses
Come you staid, ravaged and/or privilleged souls: dawn your gallery masks, sample vintage wine and cheese paired with these pain-blackened haikuettes... these primitively ornate spear-bearers
(actually written by Britani Johnston for her boyfriend Sean Lawlor Nelson) Thirteen steps leading me up to a room. I see you there and your eyes invite me in Your gentle kisses
make ye a clean breast of unknowing, a semen Greek ivory tit and yet what dullard might not pick Voltaire over the mallard Rosseau? for Newton's grand gears grasp the standard of Homer,