Subject: OEM Licensing

From: "emily ruddy" <[email-masked]>
Date: Sat, 24 Feb 2007 12:49:14 +0800

Two of us, Docteur and Madame Machin, who stand
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Dreaming time has reversed, I watch drowned snow
And piled up at the base of the columns
and the numbed yards will go back undercover.
In a single floral stroke,
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones
on their own little seat cushions, wearing soft caps
and the Splendid Splinter. For a few dreamy dollars,
桾he place the road ends, that patch of white paint
II. Quest and Conquest
Traces of those deep cuts lie thickly upon
Your red cheeks radiant against the wind,
That patch of white at the very end of the road
Is the moon to grow
Rain. We are forced to fly,
The edge of that other square cut from the right
and preening, dancing on the basepaths,