sasparilla and lingonberry


Be apostate? No!

That’s better. I’m listening to DakhaBrakha doing “Шлях.”

I hope to die in the war of pi twisty too in scupper loo to pass on grass of supper stash and this again to sassafras, sasparilla, and lingonberry ale to don a mollusk on a hillock and dippy dee doo in the dank of a screw and tarry no longer and hie don’t linger else plan for the finger.

And we get to one hundred and twenty eight the spate of the spite the sprite of dark/light trigger a bigger digger dee do then call for the fall of ginger dee doll. Come strumping about with malodorous gout and be gone don’t hie we’re all bound to die.

There sure is a lot of ocotillo around.

“My bones ascend by arsenics of sight.
Where noise is all the sound there is to hear,
Beginning in the heart I work towards light.”

— Michael McClure

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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