Sheets of clear liquid wax were running down before the windows of the chancellor hallway. Breakfast hovered on dented trays and stalled. Warped triangles ruled the geometry of the common structures, sending the map into chaos and hurt. Plants, flowers, grew and wilted at once, stretching forth, thickening stems, thickening and darkening sap that sweated and beaded in the furrowed wrinkles of the rind. Brave long-haired Shirley zigzagged the labyrinth to reach the stairs; the clasps of the chains only caught her twice, in the sleeve and her sock. The echo of the slam came back and cracked the concrete wall by the kitchen entry; sallow eyes writhed drowsily from the damage.

Cocky feldspar ran amok and corniced the mudroom; foul tracks spiralled there into the puckered noose and remained reminded. The hair-like abundance of bindings shook in air, for the leaders were all gone on long travels; the cakes unturned at home, burning. Sprouted toes launched upon discourse: host the flies that gather, take the certificates with restraint, bind them in the air with the rest, so we will go to rest.

They made of the flatterer a stock, pinned the seam with a wall made square. Under flagrant patchwork diaries flooded out the store of travels’ dues: made a printed way to draw the beams from the halls, and betook them to the aster, with Shirley among them nursing her arm and leg. They found diagonal bores in effect, and carried them out to the hill; never a lamp shone so clear and liquid, never a sortie was so trialled in the halls.

2023/02/03 #DailyWrittenOOM

Chartered after the clean keel took the right angled horn, buttered off the round scale into the impervious sheet, sable and deep, dank with the giddy dew and velveted in filed zinc. Water whale, the growing field in summerstine, with prying goad pierced through with coniferous needles, softened by the furs of sea stars, we knew the frail gate when we saw it down.

Draped, the cold-galled heinous wright travelled well into the brown decay, and the dust that set the friends in shivered range; he knew the bold new-fangled welkin, and took flayed the broad dayside with a hatchet and rays.

While the keys rimmed the hollow juggler in the store window and its reflection, meteyards and skies were at it in the corner, raving the cobbles, the flesh, and the dry. I will not pass the winter way alone, at night, or in the eaves of the clustered feeds.

2023/02/02 #DailyWrittenOOM