1980's Post-Modernism (Merchant and Ivory)

I begged for them all to let the bread out. After having found the scuba path, we lit our crimson torches, and descended to the structures of heavy fluid. A tiny bread was thrashing in the boundary. I took a black light image to show the authorities, who were mostly away. With themselves they knew, but were confused by signals they received through the toy rectum collars when iron poodles march the mist in millennial garbons.
Act tea: Scenes from an early modern life. A drunk sleeps on a sofa. Pre-dongle era. Far off in the distance a city slides off into the sea, that remora baby clod of rain. Forgive the blood bread breeds. Who put all these hairy old white cactus in the refrigerator? Wayne White was a foul-mouthed druid. Do you remember skating the planter boxes at North Park Mall, like 1986? Rendering the loaf to the merchant. Its vague continual shifting in space. The psalter under desert command, the Icee machine whirring near the nut counter carrying a box of beebees. The corpse of beebees rippling above the CRT magnetron tongue animal bread, its Gaussian fluoride non-recompense claws. Any pumpernickel college could cage its Paul Thek savior, the soft vinyl diving bell head where the butter is bread.


image by Hugo Wilson