Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Jellyfish Pickle

      About don’t, headache and bull bauble twirl
nestled in the coarse gladden, has milieux in the tuque,
sluice in the wine bag fluke and bum along is breading.
Align unless. Be live and we believe in now, a moose.
He clomp ginger over meadow, a gherkin muse
of moist breath vale pall. Snort the jimsonweed
burlap bitter notions and drop hide sack to muck.
In pickling sludge soil, supine tureen bowl over blister
and silk scrub hisses. Wormward. The nipped flute stem
wear bent wet cord petites upon that which even crow 
molt. Course the hair gone grass thin cluster rot now
rise to glass opaque bell structure, rise to fill a sky
by electric nettles. Lightning bug wander string.
Jellies graze in cluster of timid nuzzle, though       
lick a clouds staid of may craggle blues. Snuggle
a petite cigar. An echo void between jelly fishier.
Moose bull thunder now gone to kowtow.
Such the quiver pickle in the vinegar brine inch.

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