Yellow fronds of lily ponds devoured the least innocent end of the dark side of the rainbow.
Or as Ginger believed, in the last thrill of George’s comical pill, obnoxious to the end, the beginning, and through to the end all over again. Great lumps of pirate dust scattered across the false steps of the gloomy universal universe, universally. Contrary to unpopular opinion, the gates of chicken wings closed a moment too late, and the buffalo sauce fled into the pedal of permafrost across the contemporary fluids gathered in a congregation of misbegotten hobgoblins. The poem ends where the novel begins, which is why the language of the music of the spheres stopped in their tracks the moment a momentous occasion flattened into the eye of the beholder.
George gave Ginger a bouquet of yellow fronds, but they wilted in her everlasting glory. Abruptly.
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Talk with me sometime. I would like to have a talk with you on your musings.
Man, that Ginger adds the spice 4sure!
Wait till you see what Nutmeg does!
Happy New Year. Since I haven’t read most of your excerpts here it would be best if I saw an overall picture of where you’re heading in each posting.
Two links at the bottom of each post go to an origin story and an “about” page. They give a good overall picture. Thanks for visiting!