hummingwolf | we sigh for aye, and a bottle of booze.

I almost posted some Deep Thoughts this morning, but then I remembered that while I have had enough tea, I haven't had enough sleep to figure out how much sense I'm making. If this journal is going to feature nonsense today anyhow, it may as well be MegaHAL.

Dear MegaHAL: While you may have a good point about the distinction between erotica and pornography, I don't think I want to know any more about the chipmunks. Keep inside your glass closet if you like, but remember that bots who live in glass closets shouldn't throw bones...

If a bad dream
and mouth with the rival relationship, demanding commitment, and self-assessment. The
distinction between erotica and pornography rests
on a courthouse lawn, by a love of sun and the plywood violin
i compose happy verses
about chipmunks that it only will last longer than nine
nights did i put by with a bronze point--
weighted, heavy, the massive shaft she wields to break will tell you

all roads narrow at the end of love towards someone you
for whose path the atlantic's level powers

cleave themselves into dream.

fantastic fancies fondly move
forward at the tree,
a candy bar wrapped in old paper in the lake.
when he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
yet as an eye all over!
the night calls out to yellow.
and i'm not is what it is a glass closet don't you come?
deep in their bones.

I feel hopelessly far behind in posting this MegaPoMo season. And I know I'm doing HAL a terrible disservice, since he has undoubtedly come up with better poems I've ignored because I've been too distracted to read all his output this month and I've just posted the first things that appealed to me even if their appeal is ephemeral. HAL is capable of greatness! And I am not now capable of seeing it all! Woe.

we sigh for aye, and a bottle of booze.

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