Mayday!

All's as well. Seashore meets the horizon and
Descartes smiles. Wide as miles. Cooler fridge
spells disaster, a type of flower that either is or
is not edible, depending on your hover and how-
ever. Slight of a slow block holds the rain off.
We're backs and sidled. Remember that every
floor pushes downward.

Lonely is a special kind of rolling — a tuck-and-
roll, with a twist. An x twirls at the side of the
eye. Or you could break your ankle and lose your
mind. The hands burst apart — something bright-
ly shining. Sometimes, we collect flowers from
hissings and eros. See — trouble!






[It's May Day, so it's time for a parade! Roll out your nuclear missles and your cults of personality...]