nameless (the life & times of all his events - natural or ficticious) part I

a jingle sounds

no... wait

it's uncle's burning leg

infected motorcycle road-peg torn meat mess

you bastard

standing in chaos

some sitting just as blowed

amazement swirls here this world

you'd see my soft flower take it all in

maybe a giant machine shop fan

or a one hundred & twenty pound dumbbell rusting a bit alongside rough garden settings

yes idea

pick it up a walk around

then back later resting place as fire gives coordinates

children with lighters are asked

young ones regularly on the flame thrower

this is a radical adventure

something like jungle & yukon weddings moving about on rails of grand friction

slaves, steel & pudding

the arguments are frothy soft salt water tipped back

taken in

taken down

& with a trick of the hand

a bicycle rack drops from a tree

i can't understand my own eyes

lady is still perfectly a few catalogs of song

her balance withstands

a pair or three of golden dreams dance knee high

construction saw

the humming engine spins

metal cutter

cinder block eating

still no tunes drilling the door mount 

imagine being read to by

the trip is vast

expanse... every square inch of yard sounds out in symphony as if some aged cathedral of stone just ran up to you & jumped into your dilated pupils

yes there will be moss

an anchor or was it maybe a lawnmower