it’ll never last

york 4
york 4 by Tim Caynes

crashing ungainly into the enemy were it but a slip of the brittle then we’d never have another country. sat brooding when you didn’t ask the question you mention but recount a day when there was too much to say between the fingers of concensus to crash on the beach like a soon to be exploded whale you can’t walk around it you can’t get inside it you can’t grok it so here’s what we’ll do I’ve changed the label nobody will notice. oh.

just past twitchy you succumb to a numb vacant stare into which a folded envelope creeps, winking vegetables. there’s just not enough time in the day is there? apparently not see you later if you want to yes I will. I did html. it had macros in it. I took it back and the man said because I’d got it from a book I was ineligible. it took me so long to spell it that he slipped out the back and slapped a fish with the evening news.



Make somebody else read this