carried kittens

Summer makes me crazy we ride twenty miles, we witness new tribes of bees and butterflies, we become too tired and hydrate in the shade of a train, summer makes me terribly awake, I feel the eggs galloping, I feel the yolks running so reluctantly.

Before riding twenty miles, I recommend drinking a spot of ink.
When Meghan's glands battered her spirit, she saw Ian Sevonius outside of the pharmacy and he said, "Head up, child."
Can you believe the absurdity of the Chinese MD, giving me a perscription of black bullets to encourage bleeding.
How many hearts are brined in beer and whiskey?
What if the trees boiled from the soil and the paper sprang from the leaf? What about the girls who slumber in tree trunks, they cannot sleep for fear of chainsaws.
I climb the mountain in its alpine glory to see the nickel-eyed daughters walking in a swish of pinafores, every cat will follow them, they will carry the kittens.
In the sun I can sleep and gather beams in watts and calories.

In devotion
poor nuns lip their porridge
a puree of malt and hormones
but you know
sensimilla is the dessert
every sister is looking for.