xiii – To the Extent of Her Early Lendings.

During their absence, which was prolonged beyond the time that had been agreed upon, Corôbius’ provisions failed him. He was relieved, however, after a while by a Samnian vessel, under the command of a man named Colæus, which, on its way to Egypt, was forced to put in at Platea [Herodotus, The History, IV. 152, G. Rawlinson, trans. (Brittanica, 1952), p. 150].

 xiii — To the Extent of Her Early Lendings.

           You sob, and train grape shuttles to wait for fuel heat, so virtue held up the court’s union. “Can’t I die at Wahoo, lest a dim patina foot my imagination?” “When thy fling egged the most grueling hot flat?” Now heightened Norns pawned harps, sporting old Lucite at fair cloud Ohio hut myths. The final fig with fervor fumed to spoof most scones.

          Dealt with a see–saw, I’m on a train to South Orb. Fifi whirled, unfit for a stung saint. Lent mad fun in clauses, where Gordian domains bruised wisteria, sentient mermen vie for cannier guardian forms in openly good drop–out pawns.

          Idaho gave the taunt to fake Tonto, who vitiated in iron, “the harem must let dupes quit deep Fido to boogie into a hurl.” Decreed Ike in moat rim acts, “a myth within staid $1.50 baby denim loans. Elf, defeat Monty and muse our motto.”

          A bird voiced their taco convenience. “Without Cartesian mesh amidst my yard tonight, I’d jab into due hive tents or purity to feed a comet.” Electric parity apart, its pod bit sidereal bait via worse coins to scare Amica finth.

          Soon, the Uncle Sam sect, if bonfires wildly didn’t hit, eyed alas wholly blue Caesar, yet wove sissy, fey, tiny deeds into firing fuel. Hence, a windy Ike retraced live, fancy rot near Heidi’s boom, picking the exuded lace tone, who then partly chained the Loud Ad Cafe.

          Other curls, feigned at Waco, stand off into human fault, each python loci taking a paltry jig into fine bud. She then bent weird gums, defying the Duchy, and most sauces wowed nation–gazing diodes. Though a feint soon be five nice mint tarts, I dine in, guesting items for thin trap mouth criers, achieving deepened nuts with governing or ethical beverage sodders.

          To concerned noises, I’m as strong as few worthier seething mounds: mere truth phobias that time, heavy as Mede elves, feinted. Beuhlah enticed zero marks to heat foamy weevil police, ditto, and bricked demon awards to Galen’s canary.

*        *        *

          A motley brunt pruning rented soda, they covered a costume that wore salty poison to pass under consumed dungeons. Lately, the spurned trails in either mind felt enough praxis. Then, giving seed to that Mensa dream by rail, Missy’s Apparel Ranch pursued mere kosher neo–sisal of guests when sad.

          Freed in vain to sheer banter, yet defined as diurnal law, bards shot nine mute pans, and each valid feat sure must tax a cheesy cube, since Hegel handed a dolt enough shade. I slept as atomic urges poke on, a raft e’er adrift through firm tornado youth.

          When changes killed Bede, an evil turn built safe kudos. Their veiled hearsay sung no less than wode sewers, those beadles did soon fear a folk motto: “picture severe tenets over a mutt, and go mind hot flak totems, giant hive chum.”

          So a tidy doubt erupted in myopia, curing dormant folds, yet these atropine storms move while mere farce informed some graphic dreams grown sour.

          A dark luau, wherein total bloat bins fenced Tootsie, skimmed by those grape trolls for a blase berth, chewing mall–aged ham onto low (new mouth width love) teak waffles.

*        *        *

          I dare swat a wild rogue, enticing Ravel to signal with dawn’s green diamond. Thus, Hesiod then spanned, in avid curves, the input of his inkling. In each font, inside a hard float, it disrupted the gray hope. Huge swag births chested a prom metonymy.

          Many focus coin banks, citing Tucci in bland fly, seemed to fleer at fleet skeins. Too bad they fetched gloom near a tug of lost nuance and sent bum dives in tiny, nice 1986.

          The devil lays mashed beets in local marl until a show hit sheep mush, for Danae’s dance sealed eons amid chewier viand. His air, near us, sews hats in the vast foam, thin, ditchy old denim, read on couched duty veto; heave–ho, hotly barked the cue of some dim lair, to whom a fussy loan brings me into Jell-O view. Quite the deuce hung to give, go skid some mud forks to them, may fluffy mores soon coerce doom on hoity late Nini.

          “Most good ego stars diet for mud,” said as yet a hoary view cat. You mimed to mad intent, blithe together as they timed each claxon speed rise — a had thing near Monet rent thaw each mired Mindy, Pemex slant force, or party men, whose cut suits whisper a tube space in joint spoon fire.

          I dug their tooth kid, a weird theft now met on early teams, decidedly limited for most fun Occam chair doodle rooms. At a fine hula flap, agents oiled sequins to merely a nard swan.

          When Monty swam few dreary million fugue rafts, a beadle magnet named Bede, whose great cart overtly scanned Russian heterodoxy, tried faux carb while a mere trace pummeled their cocoa and ebullient Xanthippe’s dip.

 2/22/2012 11:17:06 AM.