Crystal night but clear. The wrong diamond and plays. Parlour to . Awakening. Peels the poorest back their gait. Not an honest candor in her bone. To bone the rearing sun. The dark. Overwhelming terror waits i n . It's a dark space. of . and bears, wolves, other ~ animals crept the wood, is it woods they say? O birch of silver. sliver of laden moon pouring its terror fear over the restricted forest. And the range humping mountain gaze ~ behold the ! horsemen! ringing their whinnies. Pulse of light lambent to the starting fright . If a vase held on what would it be, a litany,a for chant, a seaman's grasp, in the green bile of the sea, the ocean forward going craft. This gulch and fugal entrance along the seeds of time. And the pairing knife. the floral water, and glorious sun.
The rearward admiral marshals her forces. She's gimp to her twiddling thumbs forceps to the only going craft. A pithy charm reflects her better self joined to the running board the first mate, the plank.All together now mateys we are going down . Down down below the purple wined dark sea of its recalcitrant moments and the apples, the pears, the cloying taste in your ~
And she holds a candle Merit to her name sake. Every captain knows this for his sake. Aft and before they're holding something, we're not sure. what when we say fellowship. The stateroom the boiler room, the work room the study, the ballroom, and the old bag.
Glass handle vases and valve. Along this gyratory Mediterranean the sea wills its foremost lender . A debt to be and be and becoming rings the thing. Coming to its thwart moment, a stalwart taking care going down then up down then up. Any ship coming down or up knows ~.
And looks at the window gaping, the drapes drawn , the curator ill with its leastmost neck. What troubles this air apocalypse to its renown thunder? she .. and the chair, hard backed as any studded leather case. Is it a case now? A case, a place, a week goes . A week goes. A look along an evening sky. (Wants to say frustrates and pairs the furniture and of a cerulean firmament. A poet never forgets his words. )
Lifts and luff and the loam over the combers the backcurl of the rough sodden wave furious at the oncoming cliff, and a god speaks her treading terrene fair song. Lines up adjectives, gets the heck out of there. Quick double time! march! flap those wings! you geese of ghos!t. Ghost of gussy thing or other the nervous approach the apportionment of language. Portal at the throat of the building the entrance kind as a king. But waterfalls and the trough softens its bleak tenement. Tongues of white furl on the blacktops. Tongues of flame, and crystal balls hovering in the air that's still as a ~ .
