Digits partly cooked will resurrect as if to set the whole (meta) establishment afire. Pensivity aloofs loom central phosphate you might striate farmfully. Acumen's a spate, a flurry with duress in tow. Things that destroy grow thin before the damages sequestered in new rooms. Drum cakes divide one isthmus from another. Skills meant to be tangible release themselves from situations. Victuals seed wash along the line. All falsehood long, the judge patched calls from continents. The lemon that she brought made juice to die for as the lingo goes. White boots, a breath mark sky, some riddles past the point of homing. Cement in its soft state is fleeting, useless as the place lines will be painted when a craftsman gets around to it. The maze of easels fails to interfere with a rose's elasticity.
Blinders on our favorite horses, all bets off
Sheila E. Murphy | Reflex
Contents | Mudlark No. 8