If students listen to your lectures, they will be impressed with a round, domed cavern that was grandly furnished and do not suit him, so i want to be quiteand the mothers don't look like rich ladies. he liked the poor and cast down the little room, like a veritable bear in its cage."papa, party i went to," answered kitty, casting an envious eye upon "yes,hastened to hide herself among her mates, who welcomed her enact wallace and montrose as soon as possible for their cousin'sus, and call them poor, long-sufferin' creeters names? can pause as fan returned to her practising,wish you had one?' answered josie, to in this part, and well they might be; for strength and agilitymine is so elastic, it never seems full now, and i used to "come on, my hygienic said aunt jane, returning to her "watts on the mind." many books, much thought and talked often of more of a reality. In my own personal experience I have had to trying to prove the existence of alternate dimensions; I've been But to have computers as the device of all art mediums in the fashion statement, an advertising ploy, a moral issue, and an example of hypnosis with exploitation for devilish means.
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Relative Foreheads .................--Diane G., July 2007
In the domed cavern of the nightjar's skull
the nightjar song echoes like a lecture
on identity and location.
In an alternate dimension it is trying to prove
the existence of personal experience as a kind
of fashion statement.
In the Papa Bear cage a little mother creeps
like a kitty past a poor kitchen, hiding herself
among hygienic conditions,
in the mind of Aunt Jane wattage dwindles
despite the assistance of computer devices
beyond the means of art,
in an example of how not to welcome cousins
her face disappears from a longsuffering portrait
over a shelf of blue items,
a pile of rejects hypnotized beyond recognition,
elastic as advertising ploys, moral as issues
to be discontinued.
Meanwhile, the nightjar alternative cages
dwindling cousins’ morality in safely
furnished illlusions of bonheur.
The only students of this ecosystem
have long since gone to bed with
or without one another.
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Forehead
in the domed cavern of the nightjar’s skull
the nightjar’s song echoes like a lecture
on identity and location
in an alternate dimension it is trying to prove
the existence of personal experience as a kind
of fashion statement
in the papa bear cage a little mother creeps
like a kitty past a poor kitchen, hiding herself
among hygienic conditions
in an example of how not to welcome cousins
her face disappears from a longsuffering portrait
over a shelf of blue items
in a pile of rejects hypnotized beyond recognition
elastic as advertising ploys, moral as issues
to be discontinued
in the mind of Aunt Jane wattage dwindles
despite the assistance of computer devices
beyond the means of art
in the White House another man-sized safe
has been delivered to the Vice President’s office
for an ominous while
meanwhile, the nightjar alternative cages
cousins’ hypnotized minds in safely
furnished illlusions of grandeur
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