i want to be w.c.w.

staying oversees seemed pretty in the thing of the ocean. looking forward regarding the
ship seemed a good lasting idea.
the masts were thick wooden

and sails being
ghosts, spirits, blankets moving in the wind

the see
even it
everlasting experience of thing (to be)
appearing seemly
the see

it the see the see

not mar would move
(skip then I over her feet –long legs)
from the rocking chair

not me mowing someone down (killed ashore)
mooing mar in the face
would mince back or rather front
on board


...and so was the deck fine wooden,
were the rocking chair arms toothpick wooden

so were my feet wet and the ship rotten
mar falling (“long legs won’t skip a storm” –was it the tempest?)
nearby island resort
melost in the see for thirty a day
thirsty for sand
jacuzzi hot clothes

and ooo a sorrow would dash my eyes with salt
all mixed with water

and finally came I to an island
which turned out to be a continent
some place never known
never a man stood there

thus god gently came down from the skies
and was a playboy bunny
and we had beautiful children
motherless at the time of she leaving for rhino
and Friday did build the house

and to Australia decided we for vacation...

staying oversees seemed pretty in the thing of the ocean.
but mestayed throwing rocks at the stone
or crushing crackers in the hand:
1.opening then the fist:
flying fried flour
beautiful in the air
so were the flying fish with moth-like wings
darwinian against the sun and blue sky
traveling for food in snake-like motion gulp of death

so mestayed in the sand
thinking of all the pretty things of the ocean.