Dolls of Death deal drafts in fragments

Published Tuesday, June 03, 2008 by Frank Sauce | E-mail this post

Frank's sauce is baffled by the forgotten death of dolls

When she comes, she's more aware of tastes When is there, to make us sorry for this? We saved an elegant black uniform, without gorging on the stone road The timber swerved dangerously there; it baffled means of death I had neither the relations for labor that were made of him, him from all, nor the sides of bystanders, their musical notes Do you strike in the midst of standard adorned with pure gold? We pour oil on roaring flames Not many of those die even as he did by vodka When the rakes hear this, they too will weep and wail with heavy hearts! And delight objects of my desire It is for this reason that plenums plume; we're in spectacular blue and our sickness stays "Why not ask for it?" she asks after we're done

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Frank Sauce

By Jeffrey Bershaw
from Portland, OR
I'll try to write as little as possible. I'm a little man with high hopes, pipe dreams and little machines inside that keep me writing.
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Painting by Anna Todaro