Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Without within whither weather

Seventeen numbers in a row, like uncooked spaghetti noodles waiting for their most meaningful moment, relegated the devoid methodologies into sentient icebergs that make no guarantees. Elaborate calibration, being a torn receipt for an ornithological taxidermist, collaborated corroboratively, rendering the lemon mnemonic endemic.

2 comments:

ghost said...

is it possible to fall in love with a post, with the written word?

Phil Plasma said...

I have no doubt of this. I love the written word and would spend my life with her if she could help me pay the bills.