What time does the wrong train leave?
I would like to steal an apology.
Where can I rent a liar?
I would like to see the dilemma, please.
Where can I keep a house?
I would like a cottage near to the window.
How much is it for the whippoorwills per night?
What time do you notice morning?
Where can I get this way?
How much is a luxury for one person?
What kind of feebleness do you have?
How much is a scheme for imperfect things?
What time do you think it is?
Can you tell me where I can buy some money?
When does the money art?
How do I get to the stars, please?
Do I have to change?
I would like to reserve a noise.
How much is a ticket to sing?
Here is the key for happiness.
Please check the conventions.
May I have a cup of heaven?
How much is a chance to think?
When does the bitter end?
I have run out of worry.
PIECE OF CAKE
A specimen of the vertical edges of a cloud.
The scent of cake and a railroad.
The saw-horse was a sword and the ladder was a proposal.
The eruption of the railway theater was in the captain's grasp.
He said the cross-ties were the poems and I was a report of a headache.
But the imagination of cakes?
The sword-fish in the pianist's office:
there is the center of a musician,
the very cake and organization.
He was a sheet of pebbles, in a gleam of the coat's gravel.
The situation was a wave of hesitancy,
the caked tones of a blockade.
A noise of pumpkins. Stringed
But the aid of the cake and the wishing turns.
This was a portion of a game of a model of the occasion.
The occasional balance and the startling persistence of cakes.
The raft and the melancholy twigs of a council,
the outward beach of milk.
But the raft was the bookstand and the palms and mindless.
The internal arrow of circumstance was a combination of a thief.
There is a photograph of a toy: a series of his worst.
There is a pitcher of the troop-horse and narrow.
At the type was the contrast with a lot of nothingness.
The contrast was a curiosity. It
is a frenzy.
It is the dusk of combinations and excellence.
He was a touch of a habit and the holder of the cake.
asking me ask you,
is done what,
is strongest what,
comparing and yet both of suddenly,
curious doubt a draw the I pause
tell me find you,
is kind what,
questions and yet out of looking,
certain presence a kept the I doubt,
slight moment a hold the I loss
that manner except,
that moment considering,
then voice a he was certain and,
realized those that is who fear of it would I have,
saw those that is who done of it would I have,
felt those that is who mistaken of it would I have
thank me tell you,
that person seeing,
then change a he was followed and,
then returned a he was unknown and,
knew those that is who confidence of it would I have,
discovered those that is who you of it would I have,
understand those that is who said of it would I have
in the foreshortened literature the nature of the bookstore that it is the
volume was the novel and a section of it is the novella was the short-story
historically and a coincidental evidence of it was the criticism that it is
the artificial spirit of a decrepit epic of reticence and it was the passion
of a mere conception of the egotism to the key to a whole keyhole of the
infallible standard of glib and it was present to represent the stage in a
well-known part of thinking and he is a vast savant of the narrowness of it
was a discriminating mediocrity of the reminiscent innocence in favor of a
perpetual examination of it was the consolation that it is a vague chunk of
beauty and that it is the microscope to the least being in the best
economists in point of feeling and a paper proof of it is the belief that it
was a limited elicitation of the science and conscience of the sign and
signature of nature and a copy of a leisurely amount of it is a parity of
disparity and a state of the reflected recollection of it was muttering to
the effect is the wish to dispute the authorized horizon and it was the right
to a delightful fraction of invention and the entertaining uncertainty in the
wintergreen intrigue of a copyist of the consistency in the curious love of a
broken adaptation of
© Glenn R.