Hammock to Hammock: World Piss Drizzle

Swingin’ comfoot. Come 4th. Cradle to cradle design. Hammock to Hammock. Ham Hocks and Blues. Swing. Swing.

How to represent the invisible hands. How to learn the changes? Ted tells his wife about his vision of Sixty-four hexagrams along with descriptions of ancient paintings. The Book of tribetable EYE Discs is nowfore presented ear. You must imagine engine it. Grand Uniflyer wired with D’vines code. In/out with a formatted gloss to engage hemispheres.

The years as a greedy temporal Mandollar. Don’t joke with a hungry man. A Geometric circular chord chart on a slip mat. Time as hierarch-keys. (Sacral, Sacrificial and Juicy fresh). Timespice in your GUCT.

Narrative time cooking itself into poetic timetom (the meter’s), spun on my platter axis. Ted was in a hypnotic trance for several hours and continued long disjointed dialogues with his wife. Surf a wave-harmonic of his-story in land to shoreline. Two copies entertwinned with a mixer. Mixed drinks and drugs and media. Mixing phase Arcana LOUD over the banners Phase, delay, echo-compression, using echolocation and amplitude and attitude to turn Procession Cycles into images of clocks on bicycles. Etch a tree calendar into a picnic table this summer. Back to Life Back to back to life, back to reality.

Opoponax on wax, cuts sharp as an axe. Take off your cloths be naked as worms, jump in. NO DIVING. No running, no petting, no bombing, no pushing and NO PARKING outside the pool. Health and safety signs in Ted’s mind read: No embezzling, no in$ider-trading, no cheating, No smoking. No Double standards and double speak. no touching me.

Swimming my troubles away, drowning each day. Deadley Leisure Services pulled the plug on me at Brierley Hill Baths. Tryed to drain me away. Washed away my words with each stroke and the sniff of the mustard smell of chlorine.

Iron lung fly. Pushing from the past, pulling into the future with each stroke i am now re-spewed as some kinda’ Chinese written character. In ink dot-com bubbles. Cage me now. Freestylz ill be the breath of me, all open and stream of consciousness. Λwake. Dreaming Λwake of the woidllness, the muddle way around the midday puddle puzzle.

In Northern California two days previously, Ted Edwords looked out from the observation point of his wife’s blue and red car, moving through the moist nowness–daydreaming and i’m thinking of you–daydreaming and i’m thinking of you–playing on the stereo. Moving with green mountints.

Whizzing by Ted’s thoughts calmly, calmly tracked his time on the road, two days and four hours, licorice tarmac and yellow stripes stretch along the pathway, melting in the distance, eye-sight breaks down. Its in something, something in GUCT Fli-sight. Meanwhile, meanwhile in the forground the birds switch, swatch and hopoop between Mcluhan’s wires, moving notation, birds on a wire; switching modes. A dance and a melody. Light enters Ted’s eyeball and is dispersed onto his retina, all thats left are symbols and corresponding footnotes. Musical Birds. Sound + Image. Sonogram ideogram hologram. Whatever.

I wanna money-gram Sam. Half a gram of white wintao. Woosh. Veryfiable in souper-nature. Betcha. Eyedeers communicated to the mind in an intuitive, symbolic, imagistic fashion. Weekly.

–Fly Agaric/acrillic

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