Wednesday, April 25, 2012

love is a masonic templar twist ruining the ending of an otherwise pretty good book

pace frenetic, like:
slurp triggered soup bombs and
two men dressed as nuns with guns,
missile plans planted in magnolia fields,
fake pianists with real moustaches and toupees woven from
christ’s beard eating cork flavored candy procured from
oriental robotic cows birthing calves with knockout calves and
knockers filling tight red dresses slit hip-high,
train-top rendezvous through trans-
dimensional tunnels, an unlikely duo
made trio with possible double cross-
stitching threaded into mystery;
sweetest of what-ifs. mystery
turned inane with a groaner on top;
nature’s hooded order, an
obvious conspiracy of jealous
biology, as ordinary as the lifts
on your oz glittered heal clickers. 

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