blather
foudivan
paste! i have a good feeling that:

dectrovon #8.2 = unification

but then again, my pants are down the street.

in other news,
the granny smith apple
has rolled downhill since 1995
from my old house
to a patio on planet mercury.
hot stuff! it's acquired an accent
a silver tablespoon, endorphin plasma
in vials of consideration
a green candle and some fragments
of the world's top 100 famous headstones
in those cozy shirt pockets
of a camisa ´ÓСÌáÇÙÇòÔ±

but promised to give back
re-crafted in a vacuum.

dectrovon is nothing.
before all dectrovon there was clay
in a mailbox, before that

a toothpick stuck in an owl's eye.
021114