rec room home | once more with feeling

exquisite corpse jan 18 2006

our words, rhythmlessly, make a certain sense together
12 songbirds flying into formation (she called me songbird)
made the sound with my mouth over and over
dimmer light, we’re covered
(on back:
wol ‘e ‘as wike, fu’in wike are you ‘andy?
big digger fuck slit balls extras)
peter weller smiled through his tears, for he knew that 4 was around the corner
he shnurfled one last shnurfle, and got up off the pavement
after all was said and done the canary was dead and the fox was cunning
aradrant beastly throbbing demon orthodontist
acknowledge, please. . . that lava lamp on the stool
then i think cars, ya know, with the little blueberries dingleberries, i mean dingleberries
and plush velvet dashboards with sequined doilies. . .
because if that ain’t the way we do-oo-oo it, then i’ll be damned!
(drawing of bubbles, a light socket)
our syncronicity lifts the fog and lets the light of eternal love shine through.

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