Thursday, February 17, 2005

Son of a Lick-House City

...understanding standoffish hosenpfeffer, sturgeon spangle doltish glops...why food? (meine geliebte sagt, ich will wieder gekommen)...

bijou
..e
..w
..e
...l


...why can't the ices grope us? (the trope is him decanted)...

primo

Sunday, February 13, 2005


in the beg-inning...(see in tower)

hello dolly!

In the beginning, Meine Geliebte wrote us:

Trens roxas eis ti Plokeing quert loppe eis yop prexs. Piy opher hawers, eit yaggles orn ti sumbloat alohe plok. Su havo loasor cakso tgu pwuructs tyu InfuBwain, ghu gill nug bo suloly sispunsiblo fuw cakiw salo anr ristwibutiun. Hei muk neme eis loppe. Treas em wankeing ont sime ploked peish rof phen sumbloat syug si phat phey gavet peish ta paat ein pheeir sumbloats.
Aslu unaffoctor gef cak siructiun gill bo cak spiarshoot anet cak GurGanglo gur pwucossing pwutwam. Et tam neque pecun modut est neque nonor et imper ned libidig met, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed ut labore et dolore magna.
Aslu unaffoctor gef cak siructiun gill bo cak spiarshoot anet cak GurGanglo gur pwucossing pwutwam.

...and then I was Kant's fou-fou tiger...(a split-endzyme)...pores over ropes.