Colon Hydrotherapist Salary In Tampa Fl

interior hallways on the source in offshore flares

The desert is a Russian ballet dancer
and the moon a pianist in the Ghetto Warsaw
kneeling in the sky and quietly reviewed the symphonies
nobody knows ...
will be killed with silver bullets
to birds in the trees in the courtyard
of women's breasts that I once read
erected their nests with twigs, mud and recently removed acupuncture needles
of this guitar without strings I'm
and neutering all the lions to sleep
without the roar of a beast that calls on instinct,
they call the stars light years away
that runs your bishop on the chess not
while the head of the fish returned to the sea once
is cut to make schnitzel with lemon
for people I never saw or recited a poem on fire
like someone removed flowers from a vase that was broken ... The
stoned a stained glass pieces are the syllables of a word is silent
and an ice rink is a sheet of tracing
the fate of men who have taken the shoes, instead
bag Ice is a belly desempotrado
a cold dead mermaid on the shore of the Red Sea
back has a huge amount of nails
as a free fork keys not lock open more
the clenched fist that takes without looking
and test and becomes frustrated and gives up
and sits on the doorstep of his soul made Glitter ...
Who had perfect pitch to translate the beats
origami swan buried in your flesh,
made with a leaf torn from my moleskine May
of May that it was in May and was
France where I was held hostage by an army of shadows
gagged me with the shadow of a pendulum
started a clock that never saw
that added hours never happened,
to continue without going
not give us mouth to mouth When we need a few minutes
because they know that it will be late,
is always late
we came only to see the waves fuck and lost ... Corpse
sweep the bloody sand of a cockfight
spiedo or chicken with fries, those are the options ... We
high Duchamp urinal signed by the size of a Stradivarius, our inner
is the urine of others, our scars
written words in the body almost always
names or insults that we deal with
as we walk the red tide reaches the shore and
no one takes a bath ...
Now that everyone has been able to build my castle with this
abandoned sand and not see anyone and no one will read it, it is only mine ...

"Fountain" by Marcel Duchamp
http://www.understandingduchamp.com/