Tuesday, June 1, 2010

poems || Jeff Harrison

Virginia From The Bones Outward

Furiously plotting to know what you're talking about, I went to see the Bishop with a fistful of cloth. The villagers had all returned to their homes. If you're all right, I am what they say I am. If not, their poems become mud and rain and tearing wind. Watch these gauges and let me know if anything goes wrong, OK? That guy must be one of the translators. Individuals married and had children at random.

Their poems are as mud and rain and tearing wind. I'm trying to see what is happening with the roiling mass o' bodies. Watch these gauges and let me know if anything goes wrong, OK? Someone from the Academy must have recognized me despite my disguise. Something haunts her figure from the bones outward. If you're all right, I am what they say I am. Individuals married and had chillun of a random. I'm trying to see what's happening with the roiling mass o' bodies. The villagers had every one returned to their homes. If not, their poems would have become mud and rain and tearing wind. OK, watch these gauges and let me know if anything goes wrong. Something haunts her figure from the bones outward. The grease had seeped into the paper, staining it a dark brown. Furiously plotting to know what you're talking about, I went to see the Bishop with a fistful of cloth.

No comments:

Post a Comment