Mix in to the wintry slip for a spell. It’s a variable session that ends with the crier’s call. What happens should he himself fail to rouse? We take the next year as a freebie.

Hard to say when the cart scrolled across the invisible line that demarcates buttress from burden. Beyond the finish, there’s a mindless push to lowest potential. Soundlessly, the junket is abandoned.

A rampant flagellation suggests the rising barometrics. The gentle ones stand safe for now, protected from the biggest whorls by the ground itself.

His needs met but not exceeded, the heedless possessor chooses a return policy of oxidation. The vessel, though not beyond reclamation, will steadily concede to the sea’s great mire.

A decision of yore remains forever the Yuletide standard. The sum aesthetic damage resulting from such a garish choice is beyond measure.

Self-similarities in the route make it difficult to place the current time volume in a proper context.

Favored haunts don’t disappear when the lean times come. What was a forum for merriment has reverted to a simple roost.

In the trenchant cold, I prefer the robustness of a sheep/oak fiber twill blend. It provides elemental protection for the body and continuous stimulation on the itch receptors. You have to stay warm and awake.

The duct lies beneath a wooden panel. The opaque screen reveals neither the direction of the pathway nor the knowledge of how deep or dry it runs.

Someone killed the oracle. With a busted out chip it can’t tell the sky, the market, or the game. Now it’s just a decorative set.

The final stretch of warmth is bittersweet. It’s the important chance to pack up, hydrate, and catch up on the year’s news before the air turns cold and the skies go sinister.

It’s a rare covert that becomes more private with greater collective use.

The components are longing for escape, to dissipate out from the blooming gas giant in pursuit of ultimate entropy.

There’s a certain efficiency in the soft cannibalism of eating an adjacent species. You derive a great batch of aminos but generally avoid the high disease potential associated with munching your own kind.

In visions of Alemán, the curtain rips open and I gaze across a canopy of growth. The beast, seemingly rebuilt, alternately wheezes and roars at the intrusion of my dreamborne voyeurism.

How could a fellow have so many secrets? I can only think of two.

I’m looking for clues in the ruins, hoping to establish a more complete integration of the place over time. I want to determine if the trajectory is up or down.

Companionship changes the journey– almost always for the better. But make sure you can afford all the mouths.

Sometimes you need to make a deep run. Just be wary of subterranean light, which has the ability to bleach away a cold thief’s guise. Stick to the shadows and look directly ahead as you wend toward the storehouse.

Must travelers know reflexively to dismiss the vapor’s beck. Only the wayward gadder would think to dissever the sieve and behold the thing unveiled.

Should the agent fail to guess a code, his cash prize is denied and he is sent home with a consolation. I try to imagine the universe in which this game show takes place.

It’s too bad we can’t splice the joe directly into the pipeline, thus cutting out all need for human circuity.

When confronted with a bunch of sufficiently good options, no sense in debating too long. Take the first you can get and get back on the road.

The birds fill up a neat line until a delicate saturation is attained. All it takes is a gust of wind, a raptorial call, or a stone hurled aloft to send them scuttling back to cloud form.

The carts go together in just a single way. Any other attempts will result in an ill fit.

Could the lone receptor pick up a signal and transmit it faintly down the line? Not a nuanced dispatch, just a ping — just enough to convey the presence of a person broadcasting nightward.

The custodian will smirk as he sweeps away the altar to Dionysus, thus reopening a path to primary education. This contradictory piece is not to be appreciated by school administrators nor school children, though for different reasons in each case.

It’s none too fancy, but does offer the most basic rain protection. I say give this starter unit a chance, kick out the trash, and begin devising upgrades.

No wonder the wall is so fecund. It comes with its own watering spout.

Here’s a beauty tip: cover up your flaws with other flaws. You remain squarely imperfect, but gain the dignity and purpose that comes with the maintenance of a facade.

With upholstery that is worn to deep comfort through years of exposure, the davenport beckons. But the fantasy is wrecked by gates and walls and the shuffling growl of a canine sentry.

Olfactory wisdom can differentiate the death reek that proffers inheritance from the lively fetor of territorial claim. It’s two distinct signals: the former specifying vacant, the latter, out for lunch.

They say you need a division between work and play. But some of us can’t afford the walls, opting instead for blurry, unbounded days.

In the last tawny bits of the day, I get this sinking pang that it’s just one more on the stack.

I can imagine a future of utterly omniscient nanotechniques. There will be a device you plug into a cable and it will tell you not what data is currently running in the pipe, but all data that has ever made it through.

Woefully mangled yet placed on public display, the vessel represents the forlorn exhibitionism lurking underneath an artist’s caprice.

Business likes to think it’s a science, and after all, it usually is dictated by supply curves and zero crossings. But sometimes the input range is completely blown out. This is where the human term comes into play.

A bolt of chlorophyll in the grill is nature’s way of saying, hey — easy there with the AC.

The way station converts raw sunbeam into an electrical form, to replenish passing transit freighters. All it needs in return is a bit of petrocarbon to keep the reactor going.

No carts allowed in the loading bay. The freight here takes vehicles of a greater order.

After a quick diversion, freedom is won. Bestride its indentured past and its faraway future, the bag is buoyant with liminal ecstasy. Wherefore now, none can say.

Eating a rapid and rabid meal can be powerfully restorative. By bolting down the comestibles at maximum speed, you flood the organs with nutrition and minimize risky quiescence.

The lot is flush with healthy steeds. Take a little time and upgrade your situation.

There’s no particular art in a mid-grade consumable. But the forfeiture of it is another story. When the restive patron founders, he’ll imagine for a furtive second lapping at the pavement. Thus reduced, he’ll abandon the misspent cartridge and go purchase a fresh one.

In the final singularity, all becomes one. In the meantime, we’ll be curious to learn the order in which things happen to combine.

The old sagging guard must stand down and make way for the stalwart new.

I can explain the pathology here cause I’ve seen it before. The rubber became lodged under a utility vehicle and was pulled for miles, released only after sufficient truncation. The beacon can’t stand up straight anymore, but the message of danger comes through in a whole new way.

Tarpaulins in a bucket and a blemish on the facade. It means the painter is on his way. I say, let the craftsman craft.

The removal of the thin carbon occlusion appears to create a portal, but in fact, the heat of hell has always been free to rise through porous rock.

The product is engineered with an eye for durability. The protective case holds off the bugs and dirt, while ultrapasteurization defers spoilage. But these dyes are no match for the ultraviolets, which will strip away rapidly, all hints of American tartrazine. Edibility is maintained, though the bleached appearance will likely call it into question.

A chill came over me and I knew I was spotted by the hangdog.

Even if you desaturate the courage to a mellow shade of pink, she still remains a beaut.

Crude novelty charms only the privileged class. This one is a compromise borne of cold necessity.

I believe I knew this spot as a prior instance of myself.

The tide metes out seasons with a cool periodicity. A day on the river can do your temporalities some good.

The materials lay spent, smoldered to the quick. The beauty of this contrivance is that each hopeful incarnation must be quashed as a prelude to the next: a chain. But alas, it breaks from time to time.

When we eradicate the shadows, we start to believe that anything may be achieved.

The birds are in reverie, pecking away a bounty of street pudding. There is no code for gratitude in the passerine algorithm.

Life in the box is okay for a spell, and softer than it seems. You can still see what’s going on but you don’t have to get involved.

The true lodes will wait for you. Nestled away from heat and raids, this one is sure to stay fresh.

In the crevasse a way is forged, deep enough to support autotrophy. Total breach looms a millennium hence. Flora is the embodiment of patience, and through this art it gains the final advantage.

I find this specimen to be worse than average. I can deny its merit but cannot prevent its existence. And through existence, its base quality will permeate the average, thus bringing it down.

Sometimes you need a place to put your soda and you find the perfect spot.

I peeked inside the board. Never seen a house being born before.

Vertical access expands the viewing radius and also hedges against gathering storm clouds. But the essential feature is the double buffered cinders. When this tract turns over, I’ll be there to post my stake.

The unshod Prince knows the road to Elysium, but along the way he finds himself stymied by shards. Vanity clouded his discernment between things concrete and the aeriform.

The prongs can only go one way; you’ll lose some bits in the escape.

Sometimes the dirt needs a break. Leave it alone, let it condense. Then it will be ready again.

Much can be read from the patterns of men. Some men leave no marks at all; they are invisible. The great majority simply shuffle things around, effects inscrutable. A select few impose order. They can build monoliths out of mortar brick.

Take one piece of trash and turn it into a receptacle for other trash. That puts it one level up, a superior form.

The spine must adapt to support the misappropriated gut. Were such a burden to be loaded all at once, the column would surely fail. But apply the stressor with diligent consistency and unexpected postures can be achieved.

It may be raining on the inside, but it’s quite fine out here.

Load up the gunny sacks and roll them to the bank. Open an account. Make sure it’s FDIC and don’t touch the principal bit. Just snag the disbursements for some nice walkabout money. You can buy a burger or fatten up the endowment.

The lock is rusted shut, but conveniently, controls access to nothing. It remains as a puzzle for the idle and well-vaccinated.

I think there’s a mathematical function that relates the hour of the day, a guy’s alkalinity score, and the percent of pallets that are deemed sleepable. We shall press on with the research.

That much scrap rubber in hand is high living for a couple weeks. But I can smell that it’s a risky play. Better to stay low to the ground and run sweeps.

Is looking in a sin?

This is not the work of man, but rather that of an elemental sortie. The fence once stood proud to ward off the derelict. Now it lies wrecked, a welcome mat. Venture with me, into this violated fortress.

They call it a causeway. Does that mean it is the cause of my way?

Some say spring brings with it an inner renewal that pushes forth, lifting color and vibrancy up from the ground. Yet there are other, antagonistic energies at work. As surface runoff is pulled into the earth, it leaves behind a dross. This will preemptively clobber growth, seeding the next round of blight and decay.

The creature leads a curiously consumptive life; it feeds on sooty vapor and tarries about, a halfhearted promoter of sales. Sullied and depleted, the air man does little more than advertise its own insufficiency.

A generation’s worth of knowledge lies bloated in plastic, eloigned from man’s fingers. The text treated thus is for nothing, not even a fire. Pass on, my friend.

Pour one out for the folks underground. Give the loam a jolt of sweet life.

His countenance holds stern even as thunderclouds beckon. With spectacled eyes he’ll reckon the day’s take, don his hood, and push on to the public house.

Cast off the vestigials and you’re left with one lean chassis.

I punched my story into this machine, but I couldn’t find the save.

You cannot smoke these in their present form. But if you let them thaw out and dry them with a hand dryer, they’ll puff good as new. A lot of work for a couple cigs, but they’ll taste that much the better.

The Thing seems to have organic origins, but it’s hard to say for sure. It appears charred, and it’s unclear whether the more substantive part of it is independent of the lurid blue stain to the left. If I were to take a guess, I would say that someone disemboweled a chicken, blasted the offal with a butane torch for a minute, then spilled most of his beverage next to the deed.

This neighbor is enjoying some fried chicken on a Saturday morning. How can one not respect that?

There was this guy who really liked plastic bags. He would have plucked this out of the tree and woven it right into his turban.

What today’s subject has gone through, only he will ever know. But something in the pitch of his back tells me it’s been a tough run.

It may be cluttered, but at least the path is clear.

A bed that will wrap itself around my sleepy body. I could just ensconce myself in here for a while, to escape from the dogs and men of the night. But I know this beauty is to be short-lived. Beds like this never last very long.

They say you need to take a long term approach, but I’m doing just fine with the short.

This guy looks like a compatriot, changing his clothes out on the street. So you might not guess that he has a house. I saw it once.

In this pushcart life, it can be nice to have someone pushing alongside you.

If you observe closely, you will note that this miniature brandy is capped with a Miller Genuine Draft screw top. I did not investigate the contents. I believe the artist intends for this question to remain unanswered.

If I were to call home, I would just get a busy signal.

We’re all trying to get closer to heaven. Some of us are just trying a little harder.

Got the flavor quenchers and electrolytes. Maybe I’ll go for a skate.