The Soul selects her own society,
then Shuts the door.
e. dickinson

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Valentines Day pome from last June.

What they say is; they what; is they. Tether the sentence back to me< twice, in a row, like a column of talking teeth<<<>>>The back row, one of them; where you step outside the comma, on either side; roses precede other ones. Place them all in here ( ). I'll take the red from CNN and translate it into Valentines Day. Why don't you just get out; take the holiday from every travel agent, & gesso it to my frontal lobe. "Which participant has any real intention here", says the digital photographer to the moon; a private number keeps calling like a prostitute that falls in love with her client. It is on the otherside of voyeurism, that the private number breathes, a paragraph separates us, it might be healthcare that keeps us in shadow; so why don't you 1-800-Flowers me.

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