28 october

Isolated syndicates, we thrive in parallel motion to swoop in and scope out escape routes and rainbow trout or underground snouts where all the little piggies search -- underwired and overlurched forward to the forewarned firestorm we cannot resist becoming -- humming along and also beside, we ride the tracks until they fail then turn the circuits into alternating directness -- the collectivist culture we thought we'd left calls collect and wrecks our plans again -- the solo scam we thought we'd pull flows overfull to the undertow and we sow barley instead and the pearl millet's read from the wrong recipe while we see the time coming and hear the strings strumming but still miss the feel of how reality will taste and the end of the course -- if there is such a leaning in the direction we're heading, although nobody who's seen the map has passed the message on --