S.J. Fowler

A circle. What was needed was a circuit, and a good operating system. What’s within is without being seen to be so. Optical anomaly as unexceptional. Four left’s a square. One way turning system until it becomes its other way. A passive insistence on multiples until that divorces itself, becomes single. A single pitch made up of the sounds of multiples. Conduction, instrumental absence. Fundamentals establish separate planets. Similarity wars upon their lines, planes. Said well, here opens, his, sits at its bottom. The bodies. Spoke well, agreed in kind, general. But the way of its expression requires hurt and then, treatment of skin for leather clothes or whatever, it’s old, sometimes, often. Depending on the question, it can be the answer. One shouldn’t be proud to not have it. A knee, an elbow, three arms up. Then a last one, a fourth. Last and happiest, willing, fully skin end. The whey, foam, on the head of the safest society in human civilization. Amnesia to people who will actually harm and hurt.

12 foxes thumping; rechristened people. The Elizabethan Underworld as a precursor to the furnished. In the year of the calm fox, girls. The heavyweight watch just to see the mechanics of victory, that is, as above, a precursor to a tradition, changed into a cartoon. The furry, soon to be protected from insults, or humor at their expense, in law. The drawn fox, the heavy hippo. Ambush, false witness, poor translation. In the pressure going down, blood, bicep cuff. Correction, the neighbor is ill, a shame about the lion but there remain frequent accounts of premature burials and lack of perspective so unforgivable to transform.