Intestable, bequests ‘neath the increase of viral vibes abscond their true heartfelt hypocrisy.

Ruling out the vias which naturally – that is, possessed and repossessed by lancinate, everbreathing effort – head to and for cells meant to bestow some bats heirs will strike strokes with, seals exclusively meant to reinstate  the ticklish compulsion that tears up an olpewise fugue opacity appeased before translucent targets, and schools of shoals where bisque bort brace their momentarily chaste chests to suck on the horizons which hurl
their brisant abrasive parlance to be caught by any pair of impaired or pared down convictions that ray out, adrift, and abroad with the intention of ballistically
prancing – fices within fierce fists – as opposed to molt mode and enamel perception as much as fill it with fresh unusual ambulation, denoting an out of order or outof fashion salutary fling.

Are you updated op-eds, upcoming outdated coeds, or a backspace, to date,
orchestrated upon coerced mouse pads?

Be us binary, or billiard billboards boasting insetting assets over and amidst the drizzle drools, we will not likely see Pangea onliest as a lyrical concept as it should be before we embrace our internal continents.


About Bernardo Bolt Gregori

Bernardo Bolt Gregori is a poet who has recently moved to the countryside where he is ecstatic to learn from the birds and squirrels and bushes various abstract and obstupefactive ways of dwelling and swelling as a human. A solipsist serendipitist more concerned with his better half than his worst multiple, he’s a hundred per cent one third fleece, one third shears, and one third sweater. Publications? Tuesday Shorts, Flashshot, Daily Love, 3am Brazil, among many others. BLOGS:
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  1. Paul Murray says:

    A tad more poetikk than poletikk – which blows the right way for me on this day, nearly a year ago from when the Frau and I stood at the point of Paul Revere’s arrest, where she cried, “Did they get Mark Lindsey, too?”
    So 48 hours ago, +/- in a truck stup here in our current home in western Mass. with broken English truckers driving south from Quebec and broken Northern truckers yawlin’ pullin’ up from ‘bama, one local “Large” stands to bitch about the state of the Union:
    “She’d just better shut the fuck up, or we’ll never get the dumb bitch into the White House!”
    – Selah

    In favor of a new Civil War, fought with feather dusters for all the right reasons! Details for a kiss!

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