moon gunned down in the night

stars in irons. Srons, srars, sorority stars, hanging in the canceled
night, hanging in the x-ed out night, the night with censorbars over
all its stars to keep its identity a secret. This night was Quentin,
tomorrow night is Bob, tomorrow night is Jim.

America's on empty
America's on E.

Revealed to be Chinese animals. Chinese space animals. Chinese space
junk. Chinese sky squadrons, the star immaterial dark, hanging over the
Chinese pines, hanging pierced by the needles of the pines, the sky
trickling read, trickling red dripping treacle on about sunshet,
sunshed as it sets over the pines and the shed. We'll tinker with the
sun in the sunshed. The sunshack, tarpaper night, corrugated roof,
starry plastic, smeary plexiglas windows. The play of intensely bright
rays -- you really need welder's goggles before you do any work on the
sun at all.

Sitars in irons. Sit down in irons. Chinese chump change. Chinese
chokechains. Cartesian imaginations. Cartesian noodlebox. Numbies in
the noodlebox. Numbier noodleboss.

Number near the nozzleboss
Loopy by the nozzlebox
On the nozzles of powerful drugs
Powserful drugs and hawsers
Powderful noses and animants

Conspire mortgage drugs. Morning mortgage managers. Curious morning
managers.

Staggering cartesians with my amazing moebius mind.
Stammering Cartesians up and down my artesian mind.

Thy reach is endless ray
Thy reach is an endless ray

God don't exist, but if he did, he'd be on our side.