Saturday, August 09, 2008

tom taylor

Toutes Les Autre Chose

Markt holograf utterance, the says
Nor apted out someother light(s’r
This, then, had at ‘em like this or
Other mento on the spline of con

Came longer through the heart’s woes
Then left asided commentary loser dix
Pealed the roomer into seasoning light
Where pose reposed her smiling ass

You’d come undone entirely to memory
And called the sentries doubts themselves
On the plasm of the linger sign and apt
My heart shines lightly into the this of this

Sad bologna looms the randy hour markt
Like apt or inner ropes made heaven or
Ass to the line you splayed across me now
And then let the formula claim your dues

Blue chips d’or (of the gold – hears markt
The liner dues are crept this way homes
The forced rime his ancien mariners lose
Against the underground curse strikes again

Hive kept late blooming girls are new here
,too, and lain foremost into the diary, as has
so let me dour in your fainting starts, here
as the signer room clears the air for founding

Just as this would not have been here otherwise
Than your own magnificence clouding the
Signs we’ve made against the tides, the blue
Airs coming up from the downer tides again

Still I claim your upper realms my own descant
From which all met in the day’s evaporations
As love’s own song cleared your heart for this
New existence from which we all glow upward

August 7, 2008