Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Jack -

Ha Ha, watched half of it.
Night, night you two mucks.

But we do have feathers,
feathers in the flop of the muffle's skirt.
There are feathers of untenth a second of the bustle
and the boosts of the roosh
in the floatish neck be lattle.

Be lattle,
may we muffle and floosh.

number now about with after
& never name this house along
between below & back
give & get
go good and the old
is very want of water
so some word
some thing
some sound
and the desert blossoms

I was born of coconut nut seeds and bone dark
with not the home of my mother,
then you built.

The dog barked.

You built tall, wide and you were natural,
a rock, a shoulder from the tree on the farm.

I'm able to cut the greens at the stalks,
carry it up high mountain into the moonface home,
our center. There you are with a fire going
and we can prepare something to eat.

With a feathered fowl,
she has a horn on her head
that's headed our way,
our way.

We'll not never grow thin,
you and I.

yes, thick with plenty,
even when the dog sleeps -
guerrilla poems circled
around us

I just watched Memoirs of a Geisha for the first time.

that was heart wrenching

She was like pressed wet paint flowers
on white blotted paper
of every inch snow dove
whistle.

Every time she walks away
she leaves behind the colorful image
or I might say the memory of her reflection
walking out across the surface of the river.

That is how I know she has walked,
I see her on the water's face.

There's a lot of cigar smoke at the men's table,
the whiskey has spilt
and I am there with my wrist out.

well, that should be interesting - can I google that? Got a link?

She was flowers of dabble, dobble, middle.
Just pick her right up, mingo.
Take her on inside.

I always, always
float down the river to him.
Always do.

I woke this morning with a spearhead in hand.
I was not out of my element, however
I don't want it to be a Monday,
I'd rather it be something like a yesterday.