Prophets Four Profits presents: LOW MASS Pt 2 A reading with: Chelsea Coreen Sean Mega Desvignes Zev Gottdiener Lindsay Young Hosted by Tom Charles Bair III Sunday, 3 July at 8pm Molasses Books: 770 Hart St, Brooklyn.
Johnny would say nothing; concerned he would be taunted by his older brothers Leny One N and polio-legged Tommy Tom Tom who told him he didn’t have a for real birthday like other humans did. They resented Alice informing their father that day when four-year-old Johnny had discovered the father’s eighty proof bottle of Strega […]
Dressed-to-the-nines rose-fresh theatre. Jedward cradle themselves In a pomp-splash box. The snorty edge flurries this raised curtain. ‘Rites Of Spring,’ blurts gabbley lips. The twins dislocate nerves. Bob-up canes, set-against fans in an uproar.
Anne Boleyn disentangles prompts On the Washeteria’s speech bubbles. Self-run gearing is eco-affirmative. Her duvet and pillows outline jauntiness Quickened by a hyperallergic gargle, Phosphate deficient. The dizzy-bouquet whiff Spins and hour into memory.
Foot-long tresses, plum and tangerine blouse, Ink-smudge breeks – Admiral Horatio Nelson struts. Carnaby St. is a kinetic three blocks. In Lord John’s portal he rib-digs Joe, Land-pirate to a clutter of pharmacies, Shopping list: four honeypots – French Blues. Currency for peacocks is revels or frills.
A fault-line deforms the lark’s sunrise. Frisco unpents itself, shop-soiling a minute. Gloating flames cackle for days. Survivor tents fidget on city-plan lawns. In a leap-the-queue food line Kermit the frog recovered his whereabouts At the brink of intact terrain.