I met an angel yesterday...

I met an angel yesterday, she was naked from the wings down. She hopped on me, it was love at first bite, like crunch and munch except I was no candy corn. Or maybe she was a vampire? This is the wildest thing I can think of, this tall bleat-barn in the woods, the limousine fleets the keen dream to believe the sheened mean yuletide touching xmas spirit the loving loch ness wildebeest, the memory of fingers on keyboard, and the oar lackeys the child bunkers the welted fright in the massed moonlighty doomed hemmorhoidal butler kegs. Jealous French fries fasten lifelines to mosaics so sweet, in the war room the umpteenth fragment of mirth reminds us of the everpresent value of the downy feather furniture revival. Here is the talking mushroom boat, the eleventh hour of your doom. Logan and the Hereford cows, the meatmongering diatribes sullen until happy go luckily skipperish tickles swing and sashay like police firefights in the emergency service wards of eastern Kentucky, the loveliest Jellofied wrath rapids the gangrenous screams of sawed off limburgers, the Joycean gaffes the crystal-meth methods and icicles made of iodine, the kernel at the centre of an atom, no more a hypothesis than a way of speaking – it’s not so much a particle as a process, dialogue; this 21st-century physics best pictured by illiterates. Waves and light and the particulate fight, the moonstone moan, the laconifying library loan, the reindeer vixen named Dasher the Christmas cookie I chewed the ginger loaf I bent and polemics insistently propagated, the half assed attempt at trickery the bickering road crows that take wing and issue with every chiasmatic foodstuff, taking different intestinal paths down to the same stomach acid. Pretty parlance is not enough; we like love and it’s better if it’s rough. Try me on for size, talk about the Western decline the fractalized nuances that take up your time, so you get to be an expert, chasing down nothing to infinity like the graph of 1/x. I called myself St. Cecil, the trout of love and valour, the infantile choler, the high-pitched squeal that rachets your blood pressure. Kaleidoscope enemies, the whirlpool words, the scrabble fads and crossword kibbutz, the music malarkey and the bare knuckled phrase fights – all these too shall pass.

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