you have no bananas? yes, we have no bananas

it's only a glancing thought so could be wrong, but still a good 
glance it was, a sharply flashed sighting of the shapefull one, a one 
that keeps itself wary all the while and all the meanwhile 'neath a 
staunchly pro-claimed:

"well, maybe"

anyway, seems maybe it may-be, that all the nobler nobeler's could be 
classed. there are those less noble who receive it's cash for the 
depth that remains over from a rare overflow of a warrior's in-sight, 
i.e. those inward sightings made under some rare depth of 
perspectives not allowed to the ev'ry body', but then the everybody 
is not very interesting to the no body plus one anyway, to that 
singular exception to the molecular oneness that occassionally dreams 
of justice yes but dreams more of love and of its fruition from a 
well derived, well perceived, welling up of innocence. this is the 
kind of love that produces "heirs to"

and then there are, and, so far, always 'will' be, those "other" 
kinds, the lecher kinds

which, of course, the noblesse leaking cri'fn lemmings would k(no)w nutting o'

nor nuttin o' the story of 'o' neither - for their lechery is aimed 
downward, to kill the bowels of the shitting rocks and diahreal sands 
and other smiling things grunted  outfrom their own stone strewn 
mother, the stony earth.

straint, or the word, for to do the day with, is

re.straint

corral thyself

lasso the appasionatonal drunk realists

n brand m w/an X


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