There go those thirties, not in making, but in consuming the reappropriation of Indonesian plywood embossed with the Swedish flag. Shout it out: a passable enterprise, we enjoyed it, flat-packed for the premier and only tick of relocation + ultimately crammed in a context unununlike. Sometimes a system completes a subsequent system. Sometimes you need a triple negative to persist. Mostly dead language is all you get to get. I don't think I can hack it tomorrow. How to ship my model ship to you, how? Look at this having + what more: the will to be had. Look at this this, redescribe the current potential, flaking as it is pronounced incompatibly. Sausage Queens of the Inland Empire. The casings shellac cuz intestines R gross. Frankenstein clomped so Edgar Winter could Keytar an albino hailstorm. Frankenstein yowled a way to tell Percy Bysshe he die. I select the veneer that most accurately reflects my inner fleshtone. And strip the screws that make it cabinet. And strip the screws that make it close. And turn the thing not to be turned. And build a bag of sawdust headweight. And nail the nonincluded nails. And graft and graft to appendage 17. And swallow the screws when the neighbors are occupado. And abridge the instructions with a hearty heehaw. And heft the lith with a herniated heave. And join the jaw with woodglue and wait. And sand the joint with the shell of a snail. And where the hell do I get the snail. And practice is this modular obsolescence. And fashion a shelf to hold itself.
BEN DOLLER is the author of three books of poetry, Radio, Radio (LSU Press), FAQ: (Ahsahta Press), and Dead Ahead (Fence Books). He lives in San Diego and is Assistant Professor at UCSD.