stagnanTVowels

fig.321 the gracious event Rather than giving in to any of it, Dada-Girl Patsy Cline also known as, Patsy-Patsy Cline that Patsy Clone finishes reading her note and then knowingly confronts the moment's truth. This isn't Morocco after all. We're not in together. This isn't Tangier; no one will die here. Nothing has to stop, the car is right outside and winter hasn't taken hold.  Littered as it is with the robot leavings and burnt flags of nowhere, the gallery still churns. The basement heaves greatness like a mouth fowl with blindness. Hiccupping bile on the treads, retreating kids defiantly hold any distant corners of morning while Dada-Girl Patsy Cline or, Patsy-Patsy Cline that Patsy Clone continues to fight fascism in the dust behind her shed. Using her 50 cent pencil to hold down the paper, she writes, I will be free.  Distance, every mile towards the end is another spent. Even so dull, this cold blade can smile back at me. Since now, we're untangled from t...

fig.14.90) our dinner party is made from wax and mesh                                            We've been coming upstairs less and less, things keep burning or begin to run out as we get sad. "How cold is it," I ask again, pointing to the calendar above our shop sink. Stabbing my finger at the nothingness inside one of the boxes beside itself. An enthusiastic eater of sex, she spurns any of my squalid rationales for comparative or binary tropes. "Splendid," she says. "They won't pin me to any of their fucking walls." Setting forth, on the dim waters and dark tides. Slipping away from Fuck-off and heading straight towards Fuck-all-yall, Myko knows where to go. "We're finding a place where the happy bees dance, isn't that right Katt?" "While I want restful sleep to dream in, a fitting collapse devised from easy work is more likely. For one such as myself, one of languid charact...