Bending Denim
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Current revision Adkins (Talk | contribs) Critical Appraisal |
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- | "Reads like a bunch of drunks wrote it --which as it turns out, was very much the case." Elbert Knowles; editor, [[The Caged Alaskan.]] | + | "Reads like a bunch of drunks wrote it --which as it turns out, was very much the case." [[Elbert Knowles]], editor, [[The Caged Alaskan]]. |
Current revision
Sporadically related to P-Boy and Tim Wilson through the medium of strong spirits, Bending Denim displays a playful mangling of words, or, as Steven Adkins described it, "the poetry of dangling legs."
Table of contents |
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BENDING DENIM
my leg has sprung a leak "I need jiegermeister" yahoos yell mohawk and cripples navigate wood blocks kevin's cubist vision cites a beard bulging loin is shaven she is weeping floss a string from her eye is red and yields a bringing shot frued slipping on a tongue a baby's rattle a toy-blot manifesto serious pay for my half I got it I got it I got what kick start action wires on the street can you give me get away from his drink electrocuted my biggest one of my VCR's humming blown breezes laugh out the throat of warm water a nondescript ass scratch he's like five hundred bucks maybe 50 bubbles burst a stomach of fourse ---(amy joe you little bitch) she is offering you carved tattoos of an empty wallet a man picks water for a shirt destroys mimesis by wit of a mouth probing innards I read lips, too must listen I still have a sense of smell of wishbones turkeywings in shaping looks where is the knife where is the slutwhore gentry I am ablazin copious bad something you know me crap out a person stilted trees of a sky a dumb groping I want it to state fair ladies have attention gentle man the ball man raise 500 fingers to air one young man runs a wallow in a mush pot all day ok all right two poeple go ahead for pleasure disabled bodies a category flirting reckless nymph chats you are responsible a pizza in winter sign your name in the able bodies category any crumbling shacks slope with anger with fury beer and more fury sign up line up sigh up die cast in out of her uterus plums her uterus boston dumping tea on the british what just the british are you ready no. 1 duck for a buck Co.! heavy seeds are weighting the grown have attention getup meat hooks claw flesh the recipient of science and industry claims a mottled strapped shitted calls to him no that's a moray of movement read the weeds of handicap navigation city blocks a jewelery cleaner 64 is my number of better go slumming in motion is second that is the base of choice ok more later, have to go work, tim that's it thank alot of toes friendly dogs for a buck holder no.7 spits out urine I am standing in winter clothes clad my soul I'd like a check of reason leave-the-table-phase with spoons flinging towards the hungry brocoli-food squids that swim radished burn in winter is better taken care of I am informed signed up the first people under the chair hold out arms in rage squash my enemies by speaking out hyperbole waiting for what are you now not nervous a fig a log and a watermelon sink by wagers into the the thrust pulse of an artery rapture burst into jigsaws into a vacuum clean outside of her glasses she spies daylight that rich wonder pondering drops all thought an animal in shorts prattles a feezy to show everybody pay attention do not worry about falling go up over take a sleight left remove your hand from my face priest and insink your belly holy water you can find in stores buy her some food by a woman choose vieny crumbles brown and heave women nigger women mother inculpates sinks and hams cooked by mexican sweat makin a move hang in the bar a figure 8 a poke he's doing good c'mon Let me get a pitcher and we will begin one of fur fire hats a beginner in florida joshua is bad but elijah is buddy all in there man who is a sugarbear see past the hand give kids a hand ablebodied tan first up none other a head shaven actually they do you know the rules seen the course retire the no no no no no ok a race is slaughter a last minute i left a quarter on the toilet i roped trouble (boy we will catch you ok) ok I guess so ready set go wheelies out of the gate rattling get behind here in fact we're whipping the can-do-it-problem WHOOOO! 1.4 secs. more pukin' hey that's a leaving hell of handing it out who is next? squirm a beer ear who is up? dean of helmets dicks not here many know a 2.00$ meal ticket ok as many you may have seen stuntmen 1st time lady races without a word lopped in a head ready to go ok 1-2-3-go crystal's sculpture of glass need is going for it checking her hair is picking flies the momma of matchboxes has an 18-wheel gurney this is why he lost his soul in the river arms chump stomach wretchedness of vomit ok a guy is next he was a big man in town until tearing women onetwothree off his flung sweat a head of excruciating what she will that makes my bladder chariots bust up broken houses already to pour cement in holes by the water of a skewed enviro-ment attempt to beat a sling of arrows pierce the door hands slop up wetslick vaginal game-so-of-it look at it one wheel rollin' ok he's ok he's grumbling out glory computer plugs driven by amphetamine mice drill out wholes in her body wrapped red wrappted with rapture so what her ankle murmurs passions unknown to lost letters and filled tubes lunch on shells second place arrives wearing amped up power chords attached to a groin delayed spring a bed lost in space that's a tree and fuck and waits but wait! three rocks dump your head wallow grovel street at night thinking vacuums spots and a blistered thight begs a broken hand we have cruel stuff we have no knowledge of what we do no knowledge like that space-meeting-smitty he hangs like-understand-a-lot a week of orlando streets bump into someone else for why make speaking for myself living here mentioned or else bearded vitupe make closure hiding paranoia is not sure just say your deal scared knuckle visits springfield is not actual only after all is done anamorphic victims a verbal foot done now transmitted to a child's brain shooting bull is it good
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Critical Appraisal
"Reads like a bunch of drunks wrote it --which as it turns out, was very much the case." Elbert Knowles, editor, The Caged Alaskan.