Young headed . . . Sleep my mate, innocent . . .
Sculpt your glorious peace.
Feel music, art that yet chants a fresh imagination.
I am feeling better.
Give chameleon strength to my electric understanding.
Will I buckle? Almost . . .
Me, can I call? Be ours.
Know how important cuts emulate character
To scream this before,
You picture no crowd above . . .
Love notable nature, how surreal blindness, . . . gives music.
We have come . . . she ends the question.
Are you feeling better notorious creature?
A sun rainbow!
The impulse is soft in looking spotted
It affects, and breaks a line of weed.
Poster of my studio's raging dreams,
How big will be patience in my clever life?
Go experiment like a bird!
Appear calm, luxurious. Joy.
Despair observation, Play with solution
Mean stranger, periods are our brain fight!
Anger is some key, in solvent language
Movies aren't seeing sane,
Idols more for dirty use.
Children can run, should the monkey have come?
Rude girl-faced serpent,
Curious from grand hair!
Endless obsessive sex, not great passion,
Cramps our communal thought.
Nude, we can buy the tinker a hollow piece,
And reach aesthetic cleanliness.
Like glitter would shriek,
. . . a degenerate show.
Friday February 15, 2008, with Niki Notarile, 55, 56, 57
The Muse Poems: