SWARM CONTEST

The lightning open door cow wolves laugh shattering tubas with lace. The sea slithers across deserts; a whistle rises and falls like a snow pony. Straws ejaculate iron discs; love runs into gravity in a swarm contest. Heavy feet ignite sandstorms. A blanket falls over the flowerbeds. Bells eat sound empty. Open mouths lurk where a sled track disappears. It gets quiet as a dust tunnel filled with old books.

CAKE BONES

Between ears of a river and legs of a mountain,the skyline has a see-through crowd. Burnt notes crawl out ignoramuses. Statuesque ribbons percolate faintly. Tongues dance. Frenzied cake bones slump into a giant brace holding aloft the bitter galaxy. A glass bubble hangs over lenses whisking lakes away. Celebrations of musk siren out from a hollow tree's placenta dome.

ORACULE

What's my current mood?
Rainwater

What's a dance?
Pied-a-terre*

What's my secret name?
Telemetry

What is a kiss?
Voluminous



What's a penance?
Theology

A footprint?
Specific

A neighbor?
Sunshade

Oakum?
Yeast

Systole?
Felicitous

A phylum?
The Id

A tendril?
Iron oxide



What is surrealism?
Raft*

***** ***** *****

These texts were created by playing question and answer with a dictionary. A rapid scanning of the pages sometimes sparked a rapport between words and phrases. I also selected words from the dictionary and then let the dictionary 'answer.' Only the more interesting results have been recorded here.

1) Pied-a-terre, French; literally, 'foot to the ground', also a temporary or second lodging

2) After 'what is surrealism,' I added more entries by continuing to scan pages. The fourth word in the answer was 'realism.'

RELAUNCH ASLEEP

Relaunch asleep. Curity and Manatee goss, stunned particles yawning potion. Asiento gas house. You'll eat your head full of cherry trees, with a ducks' eye. Comets slash silk windows. Burning weights slip into a pool.

STORM SLIPPERS

To dance storm slippers, harangue a sun wildly during a volcano walk, and move like a steep ocean breathing out hair into the trees, in a transparent garment of force. It's enough to wing ankles. Sonar bubbles are densely clanging amid raised notes' combustion.

THE END OF THE NINES

Eventually the nines will run out and your peers will catch a train to express-way 100. Cool a baboon's heart by aimless soothing cones. Cinders' glue famish a dump of bones, life's convex mirror of blood luck.