Friday, August 4, 2017
I rode the Tines of Time at the Fracture of limb burr,
it is the chills in the goose that gave to I the timber ask the log,
as the wit to the math is at marc kiss I venue a curb to measure the streets,
Description all ways Waved,
each sand of grass to the grape of the Vine yard,
a bare roll of that chained,
to the ankle of the thunder in the lighting of the stage!!
Sing as the sky and that cloud will needle a sharp,
the arm on the wrist band is that scene,
to remind myself of the whitening,
is it the eyes or the browse of this text that simpletons rube?
Watts to Holmes,
a shift on the gets to got a crumb,
land owe lakes as the butter rum'ed,
what ravage made the whiskey to a shot glass of cold die,
is it the snake on the wind dough of the sill,
or is it humanity saying it is Mankind?
Whom would speak at the spoke of that hub,
is it the carriage or the harness a bowl that buckets touched news,
should the bridle bit double or rain for the dews,
as the mountain of tunes are the singer on the friends fire,
is the place brick to more tore or can the drum base a stick to not bang the brain as a Tam boar reen?
When this is natural and the social strata is borrow over,
does each person talk to gossip or is the gossip the talk to each other?