Thursday, February 2, 2012


We went to a foreign city and interacted with the beings there. Scat my dockers! A wooden barrel, shot through with rifle rounds as a hanging target, and the light that comes in: those lines make up what's underground of their hive: a demented honeycomb of tunnel shafts to explore. We popped up like gophers and entered through servants' doors. Then back into holes plowed in the 19th Century. Samovars for Everyone!

Then we thought our response should be thoughtful, of maybe even doing some pre-thinking. Our return to the countrymen could make or break our knees. To their point, we do have come back infected. We will has been a life changing. From our mouths bring a daisy: even at 109, if it's not windy, it's a burn day. No matter the measure of particulate already present in the breath layer. High production dogs dig soil into skies.

"Traditional work chant"
Chang K. Chang Chank Grain Bank Chain Gang

Translation by Donna

Grain Bank, the Mp3

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