i met andrew xs editor but      i didnt meet andrew x. by
            the time we got the hypertext      working wed run out of blue.
            the novel on the cover of      the bonnard painting. thats a clock
you dont see every day. hypochondriac      phlox. the lettuce freshened in the
structured vermouth. the bullet in my      heart voided lostness loneliness. like a
drysdale. like a bark. the years      go past in a righteous haze.
the copilots haircut delayed takeoff but      the monitors obliged. happy drugbust
      baby.
two more harpsichordists quarantined. it may      be in quantity that we have
our hope. a squeaky sock gathers      the moss. wikipedia nightmare. borrow your
own thermometer. are linebreaks sister to      windbreaks? the crowd urged
      caution. albeit
briefly. vegetarian aphids dont bode well      for roses. & tell me how
im going to breathe with no      head? the cereal typed the paper
while he talked shit to the      milk. dial f for froot loop.
off ice he wasnt on the      same wavelength. theres a bigger niche
than astronauts for poems like these!      too disgusted to play chess. the
            spacebaa was woaking but a typed      a. a storm brewed. there was
            little atmosphere in the room. her      philosophy wasnt a negation of all
            i held dear. his demands included      a reading of wordsworth over the
            police megaphone. a basketball flattened with      disuse. are jane austen &
                  dr
            who in cahoots? i keep meeting      guys from the twelfth century. how
            do i know theyre genuine? how      do they know about bank accounts?