In two columns I have had to listen to fools talking about geometrical Martian messages,
weaving around the margins of intelligibility.

The face that launched a thousand ships was found beside the
ox-harness, in the barn. Old farmer Ned exclaimed, "Well, I'll be
damned ... ain't that a fine-lookin' one," and affixed it to his Ford.

The frames of the mind begin to rattle and shake, the pylons pop as they crack in two, counterweights come unshackled, and the great stone dove, the expedition's objective, the excavation's incentive, rises, flaps its rough eroded wings, and flies over the Sahara, to Morocco, landing atop a mosque.
   That old fart had better deliver me something.

                                      July third; farmer Gangly Dean perishes while transporting an ungainly load of shellac across the pine forest full of brutish lasses and rectangular crime.

Absurd! How could senility be mistaken for audacity?
He was always only ever a placid man.

They were chewing on glands.                                          There was suddenly a bright blue light,
Fibrous pferden a full thosand and loaned.                              and the lighthouse disappeared.

You're screwing up your eyes, and you're going to faint.
You shint! You glass of rocks!
Nail you to the curtains.

My ear is a helicopter and my hand is a blink.
I blink at the stone furnace,                                            No one understands:
I fling mildew across to the Czechs.                                  They were chewing on glands.

                                              One looks at some storks in the sky,
                                              even through freezing fog seeing them.
                                              One then seems to have storks in one's eye.
else gonna,                              The feeling is very agreeable. But it will do them in, in the end.
so so get your stupid butt down in there.
They are not well maintained. The volcanoes will enliven them.
I guess they gave up on it.                                                         Would I like a can of cream?
                                                                               No, I'll just interpret my thoughts here for a minute.
                                                                               My thoughts are not howling eggwars.
Now we fly to Bahrain. You know it's home
to a lot of people, many more than you.                     Phantoms in the stairwell, from formerly foreign lands. There's a Tigris phantom on the lam, or any sort of delusional epigram that might come out of your mouth. I wander lovely in a cloud and have the mind of ten camels,
                     vipers piping, don't start chasing a bug, don't start cussing or hugging, come offer to be my
chauffeur, offer to drive me all over Cheyenne.

               Wow, I'm already on sessile feather street. Could somebody give me a lift? Ah, that's alright. I'm going to catch the Amtrak from somewhere down to San Jose, and work my way down to Guatemala.

We need that language for our escapades, Frank.

"I just like eating I just enjoy being able to being allowed to use these tuning forks to eat the casserole,
you know I justound it so hard to believe that this cable was carrying such a voltage,"
playing fantasy golf with a nine iron because he liked the way it sounds,
now talking while eating. They served up such a rubber hose that everyone stopped crying.
It sounds much worse when he starts talking backwards, he's about to "flog his nurse with a nine iron",
or "throw an egg at love", or "stomp until the mystery's return".
It's just his way of getting the lead out.
He'll be through with it soon, it's fine.
I floated all over Cheyenne with a belief in my pants.

I'm veering to the right but if you just bide a bit.
The visitor of the day is Irene Crump. Abe says:
          "Give me some of that Lombard cheese,
Command the volcanoes of the region to take back the jungle ruins,
Appear spruce with it, I got married in a turkey
Several offensive gestures left the office bent

I'm buried by Jackson, I knew how to lead an ape, visit my gravesite, first on the right, and I'll teach you how to lead an ape." Okay, he has a joke for you:
          "While salivating on a goat or an ape one day,
          a person celestial spotted gold on the nape of their neck.
          He had trigger finger. He didn't know the ride to catch.
          Well, he sidled on up to an ape or goat, and hugged it,
          and said,
               'Now we can saddle up apricot,
               now we can saddle up apricot,
               you can be my dinosaur,
               we can shit all over Cheyenne,
               tell you Mommers and you Poppers,
               that I ain't no dirty ole man'
                         and the ape or goat shat and kicked on him."
Transmission finished. Like I said, you never can know what they're going to say at these things.
Never lead them to your leader. You never know what they will do or say.

Because they were cotton like Cinderella in Naples and made by an outfit in Cincinnati that doesn't spare you the trimmings. No, ma'am. They put their heart and soul into it. Yes I think I put belief on a dime, as far as their area is concerned. I sense that you're very tired, that you've just lied.

This is apocrypha laminated, a tuning fork unspooned, an acrostic of hectic letters.
currently stirring the batter into the kitchen and carefully mopping the floor,
agree with the folks on staff, see a box around each reddened triangle,
directing the boats to both sides. How difficult it is to bring this verbiage indoor!
I'd trust a translator over a farmer or machinist: what cads!

The cat's disciples gather the bifocals and take them to the baker.
                                                                               They put broken glass in the dough!
                                                                                           The bread is full of broken glass!
In spite of date or time,,, it's a turretting turturrous rime.
}In aponitneythree, -they set the Turkish free
          }In ninenettin from they took them dowwun,
                    |IN soaking many a floor,               dddddd
                                                they had kep the ebrews warm, and no charge run against them cld be prudent.
I say, Governor Gen'ral Jackson Steelheart Lee,
You'rrrrr gonna run into a warm potato if you set the steel chargers in there,
Why, bore the War! It's a tennis court! Why,
Governor Gen'ral Jackson Steelheart Lee,
Why'd you start gettin all uppitty back ttthere?

It's the War. Machine guns mounted in each cute Jeep, jibbering their conversations.
Please remain seated. Don't become suddenly fleet of foot,

                please maintain your preferred marathon pace
                                    \Slotbox relay, saves a lot of matches,
keeps up the tangents, escalated. Send box to France. Keep it escalated.
Keep calculated dough. Sent slotbox to France, tangentially escalated relay.
Governor Gen'ral Jackson Steelheart Lee passes it to Boss Stewart, who swears.
Shitbox relay, that's governor too soon.
Edward on your reliance.