Jill says hey

It's the body loneliness and sickness that kills us/

that makes us sick/ makes us die. but death isnt it  (but breath's contrary to every reason including the dialectics of the deathcastraters) (signifier copcharacters pulling down their mows on everyone!) 

existing anyhow? anyhow ~ is it anyhow lower case lover and Upper Case Hover and the sentence is grammar it speaks rushing to the end of the case / the mood the mood ' controls' prepares and stymies the written sentence and yes writing came before speech it was speech held up by writing that rang true the bells of the garden / this way she holds truth

This is what Jill sees holding her nose keeping her caper. However! Jill knows it a crazy strata of Dt and Rt and death between. The chaosmosis of her coming . Is not her becoming a coming? A true coming of all fine soldiers. Why soldier you silly thing. What wretch imagines soldiers in place of lovers. And the greed undone by the free bodies of May 1968 which has never ended and won't keep coming and going until the end of time. And Mona's the woman with the goatfoot, and a lady witha  clip limp foot . And her breasts full as any Blossom.A nd this way ladies and gentlemen for the awakenings. And the blessed folk of time and love. and rupture    ~. She imagines lovers way they is none. And she's a nun of virtue and apocalypse and the 'sudden' sun. Her marmalade remarkable ease.

Open the book to three women you find Mona. Shes a ding aling along the donga long. She tutored and studied her way past every doctor of the shores of the Seine. and Paris is merely a song in her toot. And she wont have rock an roll either for her thing as she's better than that. Mozart's her head. And her heart raves every bloom.

  Now let every wretched text be her lover     ~ .

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