Enter New Glyphs at Your Own Risk
By redesignation we create our novice iconophantasm. On the fly, as meat arrives. Blue line or red, a digital communication interface will only mutate asynchronously, though this has been challenged by law and surmise. Wrong or incompletely indifferent vowels devoured in subtle metamorphic dalliances without realtime angst. Phantasms abound in silver-grey panes squeezed between lingering exterminations and logons; mostly though we clock the watch and bless our countings as rapture ruptures. There are intervention specialists who do this day after day, unawake. Lock something in/stant. Change the chant to boiling, if you can adequately stand the heat on your flesh. One egg will have conferred enough with geography. With heresy herself, the midwife of alchemy. In carnations we divulge our mussed indelicate unseasonal but ripe new bounty–O please–tomatoes in February, snow dragons in May. Thrust seeds upon the snapdragons. It is not so easy to transcribe what is only momentary and lovely. Hashish the intricule of knowlos, gnos, "I beseech you" only as a dementor or distant spore of other dimensional ecriture. The shuddering emissions devoted to such coded sparks are chaotic catacombs of cobwebs and dust, my foot. But wait for what is under there, is over here and bountiful if dust can be ignored impeccable and pruned of its dimension. Prance around the weekend stilts, somebody else's. Play the bride left at the altar down on the inkjet farm. An instrument like carrion, or a silo. Like the stungun stubble on an anorexic woman's chin. Like you know melody where elastic vowel structures fail. A dim view of sorting thru editions of the same text, the typographer's distraction only becoming apparent with repeated examination. Certain yelps are wing-tipped like a spatula. Reeds on woodwinds, clipped toenails, reds on paper, wind socks on constipated stagnant atmosphere. It's all the same fallopian edition anyway, the loan shark fattening treble displays, cervical portrayals, tipped resonachro time share dubious and flocked. Are you veneerish. Clobber or due soft. Motet motet why art thou so motelly? Excuse me Sir, er Madam - I beg your pardon - but can you give me directions to the No-Tell Motel?