We are ten, so arm the volcano and dole out the regimented cacti.
Infrequently, multiple, important and trained animals caused
the memories that I owe you often. I tell you, this, fatso, as the genus
un-dies. Hurry, do the people remember their dumb concerts? Let us
admire their labor. Quick, antiquate the radio at Bell's House and pirate those
damned combustible insignias, OK?
My cause makes no numbered losses, only multiple eyes on the taciturn roads.
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Revision:
We are ten.
So, arm the volcano and dole the grasp.
Multiple important and trained animals have caused
these memories that I owe you often.
I tell you this, fatso, as the genus un-dies.
Hurry, dose people with memories of shit films
and we'll admire their labor.
Quick, let's isolate the radio at Bell's House and pirate
combustible insignias, alright?
My cause makes no numbered losses,
only the multiple eyes on the taciturn roads.
Fantastic writing, Brian. Check out some of John Berryman's dream songs. Perhaps with these tight lists of imperatives, you could try now to impose some form on it? It's nearly sonnet length (or, if you follow Berryman's architecture, an eighteen-line poem).
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