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Incipient garden gnomes pouring down

Shined & enshrined on June 19, 2005.

Oh, my God!!! Incipient garden gnomes pouring down from the clear-blue sky and landing on my face, filling me up to the ears with their scrumptious goodness and minty-green, refreshing taste! Oh, to be in Kalamazoo now that April isn’t there! Or with Hrothgar. Garden gnomes, lawn gnomes, they all come down, billowing in their gold-plated parachutes, dizzyingly arrayed with ventricles and left-wing patter—they sing and fling and whine and splatter and hoot and holler and they make a terrible mess all over the place and all over my face, but oh! how they fall and fall and spin and twist in the perfidious winds as they sail to the ground!

The kudzu creeps along the ground, slowly, slowly now, forever approaching me, hurling me paradoxically into the yawning breach, the gaping maw of Freedom, the laconic void filled with draconian singing spiders, previously splattered, and the screaming, dreaming stars, stars whom I surreptitiously dispensed with, or so I thought, with a yarmulke and harmonica. The stars, oh! the stars, they do scream, and they dream and careen about, angularly, perpendicularly, alternating their right ascension with their left latitudinal factorialization at entire parsecs per minute! Parsecs!!

Kudzu, kudzu, Kalamazoo! Kudzu stretches and leaps and twists in the wind; lawn gnomes crawl and brawl and haul themselves upright to place their tectonic aphrodisiacs upon my bearded plenum! Oh! Oh! How it goes abruptly into the purple-hazed and hoary night!

The never-ending stars—!!!