Giving life force to the algorithm this is my gift to the processer scrape away motherfucker take this tiny bit of nada suck it into that mechanical brain process it like the blades of grass in the Fresian's molars her vacant stare out to hills shit it out — hot stream of liquid rhyming and shining as all great poetry should .
shiny horse hair light reflects in waves muscles flex with motion some beauty is hard to do justice---- hot stream of breath pours from flared nostrils out into December .
The boy stands beneath the looming artwork, head up and eyes wide his Parker jacket unzipped and lopsided on his slight frame the sharp snap of the fatigued mounting was the last thing he heard .
