madame

____________


Madame Mister Deleuze's not home. Shes gone shopping . Bar hopping capital cunting rarified to the sickness of Oedipus The sick mother comes round. Jack who's not Jill kicks off this deadfish sickneurosis that clings its disgusting matter. Round the toothless sanity. Disgust roars its out. Back the downstairs out crossing the clapboard roof. Down with the hitch , out with the bitch. She's adownshit queen bargained by her shop. Out goodbye down witch.

So Jill hunkers her bounders chaffed by word and flaw. Her becomings traced the loveword almost enough .

the

The 'true' is the word. Levels its lariat and lair Mona ululates pulling her feet, her copybook stammered. This nerve has plenty for more, but narrowed to the stake its called the ones too often for dare.

Shall it please the tepid water, petals amuck in the bidden water, frightened by feet, chunked by pleasure seekers?

One spell can know another. Often its breath is relieved finding other space to captivate its long belonging love.

_

them and moti(ve)f

Theme and pedestal her true love mocking the moon. Howl! you bugger buffering the waves the wicked particle trapped in the feet the catalog. She says that does it, and its winding course has passed the implausible river and the stream the brook, say a pond, and her pintle, match the point .


She's had two and four. This box of catch and unlatch holds her back, she 's a hod carried her to home beckoning the unique clause of her fat. Fate to her destiny is necessity to her vision, a possible bilingualism in the works. These are possibles she says Fanny Jill in disaccord rubbing their chin the language bowl hunkered by their 'claw' foot. She's ripped the velour curtain back, if velour can be . At all its like this. Her ass wrapped in mace beaten silly, to her escaped.

Dragged back on her word, she's come round to action, which isn't quite identical to faction, whatever that could stand for. If standing for it is the right wording. Perish my soul! and marry my grief, you old hypocrite whorebar of the seven begaggled seas.


____
A stomping storm a sometime haggling .

________

true grit

Turning __ No not turning so much as gritted to the solemn oath of becoming.

Agog! is her native bust.

her native tune's bent turned to forked rhythms.

peeling

Fanny peels the corner of her becomings. A biting tongue wrecks the orange. The suit bears no owner excepting its last tender lathered loin. What body conquers this dust? Of the shadow no one's heard its legal tender paced by the ebb becoming of true ~

keep yer head

______________
Above all don't keep your head! lose it she shoute d she

rereading the lines of the text as it cross-patched _________________

So Jill then found many things texted in the base of her brain's silly woof and warp the woods of her jouissance and renaissance. The night worked like timber, it shivered, matting the preso tom and the Instanter deist worship of goods and words. And their solider.
------------------------

Ce qui est reste d'un "texte"... apres....

She returned to the book: it was glaring glowing

____________________________

forward

She's a flat out crusted, flimsy flatfooted as the something and other plains ... where the

big Chiefs once pow-wowed_ a palaver honey on a good day, she's outdone the other dames without trying... at all....

Fugacious __ Fanny _______her wife Mona_fugax, Franny fugac_(a latin babe)_ dig ? She's a well read and ready to split, flying out ... past the rope_out the yard___ on the lam,

scram the ma'am. Hence one can see she's fleeting, transitory as the karmic bus and young womens' breasts ________ Mona's calamity is fugere, she likes to run and to flee, to take

flight. Bust a chop, shake a leg, crack heads time to time, crank an arm, remove a rib, remonstrate for love's plain take off ....



Shes a sometime fugitive (unpunctuated as ole' hell tardy as a brush), excluded from justice and jurisprudence, and the law; refuge,__ if there's isn't a tragic bone in her body, it's cause shes in a circle looking out for to get back to her tried and truer self ____her truest? ____ safe a s a fat harbor ___a sweet ass,___ a warm womb, a clutching vagina, a floral vulva, double kissed by tropical loves ____________ All in all she's flighty fugacity in person_ if that means she's a short-time girl, well it's too bad for you Jack, and as for Jacky she can just go shit in a bucket.

A dodgy bitch she is and you gotta be if yer gonna live on the beat.
Her turf's a naughty tense past future and present.

In the factory of lips there's not a one she's overlooked. Her hips've spread for any woman man and world slimming tree, elm, chopsuey joint and plain jane mackerel soup.

Shes what you' d call a housewoman.
But not houebroken .

Hosting anything that talks, lodging any old thing that lodges buckets...



O bla bla bla... O

totem to truant

Truant as a bashfull . Basket full of twain the water and leagues|if trouping is shining she's back to the land!
Land my fearfull love
Land

Franny meets her in the bus. it's knockdown love by now, and she's crested the top of the roof. Like her, the woman's a double and her heaving cries the wheeling rain, and the socking fun , wait she's roughed up the sauce and it's hit wait and run.

She comes by later, plateau of arrival and the glove of the chivalric plate.

If this way she knows she's done its better love than done.

to her love

Shes not morbid, and the Right pause ferried the left brain. She came over the drawer walkin into his princely head. This was head to Love.