let it turn out to be a saint who possessed him

ip

please explain this so that I can understand it

fairy tale 93: edward g robinson watched from behind his bedroom curtain as lestrade escorted jack out to the police car with its rotating red light. a cloud passed over the moon.

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marco giovenale - the shape of the field

http://jimleftwichtextimagepoem.blogspot.com/2013/09/marco-giovenale-shape-of-field.html

UHZ

make the mistake others make this is how you handle them the way of the world

fairy tale 92: lestrade chuckled softly. "a passing hobo, eh? why don't we go for a little ride, see if we can find this - so-called passing hobo?"

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this is just a surveillace visit

fairy tale 91: "hey, muffy, what's up?" peter rabbit squeaked. "you look deep in thought. like you're, you know, really thinking about something."

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none of us able to discernibly exist except as subject of others' grey

fairy tale 90: as miss muffet took a deeply satisfying drag of her unfiltered old gold, she saw peter rabbit bounding across the desert toward her.

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fairy tale 89: miss marple took her knitting needles out of her purse. "the fruit of guilt makes bitter jelly, young man," she told jack.

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maybe you have a better idea of what I am thinking of grey

Missalette #2

only so long as was necessary for my primary education

what

fairy tale 88: boadicea's whole being was suddenly flooded with the light of love, for jill and for every thing in the universe…

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Missalette

spirit

destiny was concealing a surprise that I had never imagined

fairy tale 87: edward g robinson had finished his chocolate milk and washed and polished his glass when the rotating red light of the police car began blinking through his window.

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fairy tale 86: pinkerton leered at holmes across the bar as the jukebox suddenly began blaring "mack the knife" by tony bennett. "can i ask you a question, old man?"

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I have an order to confiscate your illegal grey

fairy tale 85: "i'll be all right," the dragon told himself. "on the other side of that mountain, there will be something good… something good…"

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fairy tale 84: "silly boy," miss marple admonished jack. "would you bring the laughter of the gods down on this placid little town, with its geraniums and its canaries?"

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in a minute or two more the matter was finished

fairy tale 83: boadicea looked down on jill's sleeping form, as the moonlight caressed it.

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fairy tale 82: little miss muffet stopped the car in the middle of the desert and got out. at least you can smoke here, she thought.

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seeing them make a somewhat conciliatory gesture caused us to relax a bit

judge

Volodymyr Bilyk. This is Visual Poetry

The backstory of the series is in the aborted project of releasing Raymond Chandler novels. Pieces – which are font collages started as the illustrations. It was to be the blink into the characters mind. Then the project was shut down – but I was too much in this thing – almost obsessed. I was fulfilled by it and I had a need to exhaust it to the bottom.

The central idea is the collision of the dada-sensibility (mostly inspired by the collages of Kurt Schwitters, Hannah Hoch and Raoul Hausmann), the hard-boiled images (Raymond Chandler, Dashiel Hammett, James Cain, Jim Thompson) and the film noir atmosphere (Night of the Hunter, The Big Heat, Touch of Evil, Maltese Falcon). The link between them is Jean-Michel Basquat and his highly expressive, straight-to-the-point chaotic style. His compositional method is the most adequate for the purpose of recreating kaleidoscopical frenzy.

The reader (because the images are built with fonts which contains letter which got the forms of certain images or placed to look as the certain images) is like the private eye remembering his last job. Remembering that he looked for the thing long enough to be haunted by it, to become obsessed by it. All he can remember are this blinks and from the blinks he builds the backstory and the stories between the blinks.

http://thisisvisualpoetry.com/?p=1151

it was slow tracking those woods-wily hunters through their own grey

fairy tale 81: "i don't see that there is any mystery here, inspector," jack addressed lestrade forthrightly. "it's obvious that uncle rodney was killed by a passing hobo that he caught robbing the house."

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because I'm scared she realized I'm caught in a living grey

- - - - - - - !

breed them deliberately with a shrewd practical grasp of genetics

fairy tale 80: inspector lestrade stood in the doorway...

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