nothing personal

by grimbeau

O'Morse where art thou


friends and family (that’s those of you who remember who you are) understand reasons prevent one from saying that much just in case word gets used for evil instead of good out

act your shoe size not your age in post imperialist measures playing sundials in the garden with your appendages made erect by shuttlecock & battledore found in last year’s box

Ambridge anal Ithaka ate my hamster, hiccuped, endured a bilious attack and became an ecstasy of mumbles, drifting like the finest snow on the frozen inland seas, stargazy mackerel make the best of it

we dreamt of pasties with a light brown crust running through the meadow pursued by litigants with fine mesh nets & insurmountable debts and nothing much to brandish to Scythia