rabbit

Today I made a cutup jumpup bigup massive PHat* poem about a DJ rabbit:

here it is:

"I can't believe we have booked the rabbit in for an emergency on the Wheels of Steel, the first slice of cut 'n' scratch DJ Silky Strings.

Inside the booth he takes his needle in the neck like a man, albeit one with very poorly evoled vocal chords.

'It's like dough,' he says 'or a lump of chewing gum' -and the misaligned jangle of an ice-cream van playing a wooden spoon, rolls it into balls.

I am left with a disorientation so complete that my mind simply abandons ship.

I wrestle the floppy-eared miscreant into a record box and perform a nifty, jokey dance"

---------------there it was.

(* that's fat with a capital PH)

Here is isnt:>
> here it is:
>
> "I can't behave as if you believe a sleeve of leaves we left after we have booked the rabbit Letters melt in green morning in for an in any verse uni or omni pre sent emergency on researgence of the Wheels of Whales of Stale smell of mail of Walls of Steel, the first since price of cry eyes of spice of slice of rudder of butter of position of distraction of cut in 'n' an scratch caught dejaview D day did you view the huge J milky way Silky say Strings of abandon bringing around again.
>
> Inside the booth they both need nothing he takes his abstract eye of needle in the door where the camel has to crawl through on itz knees and lower itz neck
> like a man like a son of god, albeit ill bet one with every poor with you always every very poorly pouring envelopes of evoled vent trickle vocal the vole of local garage door chords.
>
> 'It's not at tall shorta like plea dough,' he salts with pepper sauce says for an oar of or 'or of a lump of a lamp of illuminating chewing gauze
> gum' manatee -and the mermaid cleaned up the misaligned umbrella of jangle of eyes camera phone an ice-cream vanished mercury van planning on
> playing a wooly cat a pillar of wooden of wooten of sooner or later spoon, rune rolls it encryptically in tune in trundle mass expands into balls of energy in her I am left without a scent of disorientation so incomplete that my
> mind shifts to something finer than implied by simply avoiding ashes of abandonsheep that slip into nights fine sleep of waves of shapeship.
>
> I wrestle the floppy-eared miscreant not a muskrat of moist rant into a revolving record flax and fern toxic frolix prolix politics on a soup box and perform chrome a toast a nifty, if iffy jaw cular nembulous sly clouded joined with a jocky on prancing horse voice jokey ghost of lost duration in dance of timeless lissome soaring"
>
> ---------------there it was.
> -------where it wasnt

THANKS FOR THE WHEELS OF WHALES WITH THE RUDDER OF BUTTER couldnt have done this without you! rainrien@yahoo.com