Words, odd ones and similar recordings


Drinking Leffe with my left hand, morbidly opposed to Original sitting around years of surface water as if camp fires are mixing music and perfuming Proust while hanging out with snippets of DNA to be placed on your desk until silence dances off the horizon to make room for light and dedicated dreams of weightless days first sung to unprepared ears by a group of commercial and philanthropical blue bells. What I have I hear, when I hear I speak sound round my fingertips: you but you, to go to, nature tops up carrots, art erects fan mail and summer solstices are reappropriated to turn the flames on and off when air is around: no cross blame Doggerbank-speak or crosstalk when goggles are out. The body is a collage of uncollected images so insidious it's baldly irritating. Honey responds well to speeding time.