of artisanal lies

Obstructions Compel Abstractions

Strangely situated in plaid—both real and unreal—the quip ornithologist unfolds clothes (sometimes) and seems like an exile in detriment or, perhaps, emotional involvement in obstructions that compel abstractions.

The calumnies. The culminating fraternity. The serenity, unpredictability, humor, restlessness, and occasional sentimentality of artisanal lies—as well as the mysterious, contradictory praises of the ivory billed woodpecker (really extinct or a ruse?) captured and framed; it is a beautiful beaky beastie!

I pray you debit my impertinence. Forbear nothing. Forgive me nothing. My penetrating trademarks lay listless around my ankles.

What I’m Reading:

“There are so many different people to hate, so I keep things simple and hate everyone.”

— Leigh Lucas / “Dirtbag”

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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