zip gun method stuns riot police dunkin\’ donuts

Dearest vegan,      Pit bulls and pinheads, bullfrogs and spiny fins,      brothers and sisters.      Well. Well. Fuck the punctuation. That bucket sunk in the ground. Fishing for tadpoles, where a more emphatic pause jostles to be received.         Rejoice. The abject demolition of the lung, the pin pulled on a nebulizer.      Better just to dance after the bandages come off than raggedly recite a weather forecast in reverse.      1976. #7. A dragon. The fire snake asleep at the hearth.      The summer has not delivered. The promise of a mistrial. The master wind blows ill, a lot of hot air in the bullhorn.      A Honda backfiring at the traffic stop.      I have not taken up a cigarette in more than sixteen weeks. What is the point ? Better to give up finally than give in to last requests.      We are smoked. The bacon fat curls the edges of a knocked off Qur\’an. A prop. A counterfeit. 114 units of varying lengths, distressed like orphaned pigs\’ tails.      I have not done much writing. I walked a good deal. Then I came down with a virus. A cold. Man flu, a nurse uncharitably quipped. They were all out of nuns. The best of them got eaten up by airstrikes. Dispensing alms to unbelievers, hogtied under hospital beds.      The faint rash of a sun tan came to nothing in the end.      I have grown tired of confederate effigies I strive to sculpt by rote. I have grown secular as a dung beetle.      A schizophrenic tried to put me straight and failed to proscribe my meandering. My gums continue to bleed in the bathroom sink of a morning. The teeth themselves remain mostly intact.      Aside from this, I am quite well, thank you.

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punishment exercise, weblog version

Hello. I am still breathing, if you wondered at this latest absence. I needed to step back from the drop awhile, the empty space between the rails, to let the game play out. It has not been pretty for