Bleak, breathlessness, dropping merrily past the right-wing rod, under panels of delight through branch-divesting platitudes.

Speed-demonic confabulation, delicately obfuscating time-adjusted lore. En-tranced by circle dances trebled high in flame-swept self-congratulation sweetly mentioned.

Hunters' dreams, preachers' precepts, awe-ful charms to graze the night, in mind-infected appellation, calling, mild aspiration and quite clearly bent.

Untreated accretions lend choice to amply dreaded opulence, ocular, devolving, pantingly opportunistic.

This must be the procrustean delirium, obsequious, always homeward bound. Not to be chewed lightly. Bestial.

A principled philistine knows where to draw the line, clearly enough to be swallowed unentrenched, unrequested, unpremodulated.

Not without trying. Not without handing out a piece of prevailing bollock-ry.

Apostolic and universal, meretricious and merciful: elated mockery says it without saying so least.

And then there was reciprocity to contend with, underhandedly at first but next offhand and not the least intrigued or retroactive.

It was rentable admonition. It was prescient delight, all bound up nicely in adoration, mendacious and well spent.


Michael Webb

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