The Yellow Letters

No part of a bicycle is made of glass. Great is the pull that controls me. Finished is the grain inside me. Stop is the wrench that forces me. Great is the pilot who flies me. Mercy is the mop I clean with. Coasting is the bike ride to street. Real is my hope to vanish like thief. The end is near. The start is miles away. Do you find that your mind is in a kitten? I wasn't banging up on you. I was in the middle of a rote.

Luff, that was tuff. The playoffs were a curse. You knew that. I didn't. No money could bring us together. I got good, and you got better. At noon it was complete. Some year the best will do nicely. How fluid everything is. Better than most, that's what we said. Ride the trains or don't, what does it matter to me.

Four of the days of the week are commas. Three are apples. Find out how many nickels, buffalo. Frog told hummingbird to go down to the third world. She brought him nectar in a cup. The Grail, peculiar there is only one. Some small medicine I suppose. I do it for the reds and the blues, sometimes the yellows, but let us not speak of things that are beyond us.

I was the one destroying the good times. Yesterday I was depressive. Today I am statistical. Multitasking in a hooverville yesterday, I shut up ten cowboys. Lay down - let the five fingers need. I'll cut you in half with this spoon, this mattress, this nothingness. Play me tennis with a history that don't get tossed.

Hey kid, what's it to you. Wile your body far from home. This injury is a wound I possibly felt. The recovery is a mild pleasure I possibly felt. Fellowship is in a trance. Where is my voice? Where is my heart? Lost in their luff. State nothing, yet say everything. I have no temper, no fitness except when passing through eventuality, reality. My essay on the bomb is creature. What language it threw! Those who are suffering from it are the essential dig out of strategy.

Nearly floated down there one Sunday looking for the White Palace. Summertime it was Yoda, and I was shirt-sleeved, hooded like a bad rip-rip. Saw you rolled through my fire kitchen. I was on the porch on the way to California. Sky prognosis Zen. Alice were the rabbits. Logic was their Pandora. Salad bar toppings fell like cheese through the rainy night. These are my options. Laugh, be modest. Climb Everest. Heal by heart.