Thursday, May 17, 2007

I think I'm barometric

I think docility has left the room
I think the captions in my heart have gone to beg in streets I do not know
I think the doilies made for glasses have absorbed a recent coat of paint
I think the pope is wearing see-through pen knives on his wrist
I think dagguerotypes sound listless as paid staff
I think the woodwind section wants to confiscate offputting questions and remand them
I think the laboratory is in need of hemisphere
I think the balderdash needs pumping up with scrawled young syllables
I think intuition needs a transfer for the next bus
I think what you have paid the two commissioners is little enough
I think the watered down eclipse will fail to show through windows
I think the icicles will fit in the Smithsonian
I think the music of the spheres ought to be played in double time
I think a recent subsidy will form an overlay of purple paint
I think the frets on this guitar will help to capture sentences
I think when anyone is looking you should start to mouth new questions
I think the plucking sound is plenty to erase the white noise with dibs on this room