Harmonies of the World

For whose use is all this equipment if the globe be empty?

Has all the whirl gone fission? Tank Goddard yr still alof. When wind of the surprise party broke, I had an inkling that future generations were a thing of the past. That we’d all fallout and be counted down. Go critical.

Seizons greedings from the late twentiest century. What isotopic we disgust toonight?

How bad vinters drive out good.

Do we still know whose came florist?

The adman or the evangelic.

Hear the disk drives zinging?

Cloud chamber music.

Glab yr hair and strike a comedy to beheaded by the ax king. The four fundamental farces (and their victrious humours). Stand up, sit down, be counted, et cetacea. A diealong N times removed. Concerning two cheap world systems, broken down by gender. Liber oils and corn servitors. Tantimount to antapodes. There was faults on both sides. Both lived the same half life. Both imbribed the same riddle. Democracy in auction. Totalitarianism sub Rosa.

Mark, with blood, ever the twain shall meet.

Apollogists for the old Hebrew cannons, fodder. And the new Missile Xtians.

All board, beamed the semiconductor. A doss of strongchum-90 for the milk of yr human kindess, boasted the hostess. A geiger of heavy water from yellerstoan poke?

Think if you but will of the owed man and the high c note. Think again but deerper (Maryanna’s deerper) of the alter woman. When she ain’t kiddin she’s calving. Well turned ankles of the bollerina.

Once they almost forgot all about ourselves in their dervilish ttaps dance. Lipservice to our hoary progenitors. In the shadow the aspens quaked. Pie the piper. Better livers thru chemistry.

He claimed right off the bat to be culpable of replaying ball with the best of ’em. Eventually he’s bailed out on payroll on a great bottlefield. A regular solid, in the legendary prime time of a slice of life. Couldn’t sitcom stilted. Try to avoid his infectious attitudes. Couldn’t take aim with his lazer eye. Cell block. Surpressed as an orfin, he was early adapted by a branch of the Potato Family. If you ever got up on the good side of his bad eye he would give you a lashing. Had only one ear on the lee of his head. Psychologist’s scars where the other used to be. Gros Ventre pursued him. Couldn’t lift a fingerprint.

Bellow Donna. A great teacher and one heck of a grammarion, allways dielating her pupils. She was a piller of the communiskirt. Millions of yons of envolution gave rise to bonny parts and her globular clusters. To see her (intravenus de silo) is to beholden a candle to her. Her green blouse been in and out of fashion like the armour of the cosmos, peeking out the bluebushel of architectronic deaconry. Whispering slips of her racial memorabilia. Her lapse down lovers’ lane. Take her as she comes. Catch as cab can. Her and her doter particles. Polly Ethylene and her 1411 names.

Weed neffer seed the likes of him before. Or the legs of her behind. She passed as a teenager, rainbrowed huer of man. Cubic cleavage. Redshifted. The first peer blackbody to ensconce her radiant arras, she had natural logarithm. Ain’t a bloomin mote amonk us wouldn’t be charmed to take a brownian hike and bless at the black of the blush. Flesh is hair, too. Give him a hand. He passed as a hat. Setting on a twoodstool on the verge of selfabyss, full of fork and half staved.

Grin pauper. The acetates upon you. Be a good squirt, stunk man. Thy clampdown come, thy willies verdum. Thanks ahem to his presidents of mind he preformed a quarterback’s shrink along the rivers of her thighs. By the shores of legs Louise. Godel it on the mountains. Ebbing where he should have flowed, neap in his pinstripe suit of cards. Bobs in the water. Bills in the mail. Feets of clay. As she was expecting

They married the next full shannon harvest moon. Cereal monotony (the breakfist of champanzies). Hamms a feu barns. For me and my galleon. A sailsman celled it. Everything but the kitchen snychrotron.

Wetware is transparent to the core. The apple of. It was at Higgs Field-my old Alamos Madder, to use a poplar nom de guerre-at the crack of doom that he and she got up and atom. She, his bosonic buddy, beat him, her fermion friend, at squash. She give him clean breasts of everything bucks could set aside, next to Arthur’s godfreeness. Fast breeder.

Mine weirden brooder, candu spare a doom? Chimps to the right of us, chips on what’s left of us.

I remember when I was children. Playing with. Voice and number of yr fingers thru the wilderness of my hair. Buoys and gulls. The oceans swell.

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