Jack Clarke the Polygamist Poet reports on President Bush


Mr. Clarke and the President of the United States
In the silence what ancient promise again renewed? For now, the poet praises beauty that is but redness of clay.

We are not gods to create life, and only what is given to us to order and rule (or destroy, depending on your proclivities, ya know?).

Your sun is but a smoky shadow: ours' the flame, an eternal glow. But the president said, "Was not Faustus a historian and prophet? As I lay, all but the desireless spirit seems to roll and pass away."

The President then went on and on: "My love shall be in thine when love is sacrifice above and darkness before us for blind uncountable years when there is still in us a heaven-descended ray of that which built the palaces of night and day as thou only art real, these, but shadows of immortals, if it was so with me, might he not be hostile for all his life long? Through him those who had only blind strength have grown crafty to conspire even against the God with one alone he lingers murmuring heart to heart one infinite love is life enough for me, not too sultry fire stained the sweet crystal of spirit, for what secret lies behind the lovely light? Since thou art darkened I will enter thee giving my light to see the unfallen lights then a vast and silent river seemed to roll and pass me by a night of many million years, which breaks now to dawn, but when they cling unto the hands, the lips, the eyes, our song of war is silent. See what star-glimmering citadels rise in the blue!

Oh, what heroes, what strong immortal soldiers, overcame that ancient axis of evil! In the silence of the towers, what ancient promise again renewed! And yet it was thy will made thee heretical and rebel to that joy.
And yet I think that I, who had could not vanish from his liberal eyes, was still within him."

Mr. Bush as never been more eloquent nor vapid.

God bless us all.

Poet and pauper.

Priest and thief.

Starlit and tramp.

Vagabond and businessman.

you and I

and we

in our neglect of history of prophets and seers.

Now is All and Nothing and Something Between.


A gap with a view
Night eats at a memory of what needed to be written on the question of existence for Frank Sauce and “a courtship of memories, like dreams.”

"Onward. Further!" They said. but that's not a real answer, only a transition.

Art could be a gap between a self and its society, between a reality and its ideal. We each live somewhere in this gap. One built the idea of the 'objective correlative' and another built a personae, but really they built a similar complex.

Frank Sauce, for me then, became the bridge between that gap; a trickster personae messaging between a self and the society that self perceives. Frank Sauce carries the intention to message to other selves and their possible gaps.

Yeah, there's a bunch more poetic mumbo-jumbo etched in to extend the content of form, to grow the body of meaning, to revel in the beauty and ugliness of you and I and we.

That's really all that needed to be written to-day.

Thank you for reading this courtship and its revelry.



Prosperous God


Frank Sauce's next office!

Aphrodite offered me a cash/credit deal today. I passed, knowing you should never except gifts from the gods, especially the Greek ones; they're merciless

"Ne vopros, burknul Kvin. S takim zhe uspehom ia mogu priniat Liubuiu vneshnost. Perehvativ rukoiatku poudobnee, ona nacelilas ostriem v grud terha, Ne somnevaias, chto mech iz makama probet ee naskvoz vmeste s liubymi dospehami, I vskinula ruki," Aphrodite said.

At least, that's what I remember her saying.

Vietnam private
Private vietnam
I hear there's a river trip there that should not be missed
Private portland
Portland private

Watchout! Here comes the big one: a wet UFO with our fields on fire.

Exclamation points are passe, don't you think?

With the click of heels entering the room, we turn our heads toward the woman with heels, only to find a tall man in leather and smiles in ourselves.

A disappointment fence of borasilicate glass is all we have today, or maybe we've attained Brunelleschi's low moan. One cannot be sure of what is possible until it happens.

Ethics Texture


Petri dish of Ethics

Champagne then for inspections at I never thought he said,"Gnarly one," an And for a surprise that it is what had been brought for a longed breath became to him preposterous, a little understood, the other, unusually you, could remainder mood then the contented of the era on which I never thought said, "Us! Exact us!"

That September, the off-breed of four from we who had been ever intimate friends and lucid pupils, who gave our ether as presents, certainly the good of the lady had how what so many women learn to up-down and would have in drawers felt that it had it last it then this that had lent poignancy to their time the I of you has will when understands are one have been to young he at head the And said in an event,"We will ruin the both of you to you who've seen there the lion-like stillness but loans luxuriant the streaked grey-silver haired boy that may return to persuade us to do to so-and-so."

His emotions were too complicated for him to name them.

When I get back home from the Galapagos, I find my girl is married to a fisherman and has two fat boys.

It was to be his perfect sacrifice. It was he who was to convey the French wheat to Spain.

We understood each other somewhat unusually well, you might remember.

Lying back in a big chair with his eyes closed; it much better than when one alone and compelled to do every


Well, such things counted in this mad world until we were merely standing-by, waiting for those in to have yet written to begin to plan anything was to begin to plan to end.

yo urdi t rectl e yfrom the m anuf actu rer,
Your ch an ce to eco no mize wit h us

The Sanitorium! It got dark, something happened. I cant remember-
Diego nodded to Angeles and took the Angry Girl by the arm, but she fell and Angeles died in her arms after impaling his head on her golden strap-on.


Frank Sauce

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