so say your seal is for being. the seal has cubes of for being my boy. my boy is very six. i have for buckets of jelly in my ice. the ice is very filled with spiders and rockets. my boy is the trumpet. i am the polar bear of the nightclub action time.
lets say that you are art. you have the art like i have the various. for we are two like fliers in the skiff. soon the boy he takes down the green and flies his paint like mascara. my eyes are running like the biathlon. i am to shoot me on dead. the mountain it cries for the only.
can you not see womanly when it bites you in the eyes? my womanly it is like the fire in the igloo of love. it is melting the igloo into milk and blood without red. the borealis is the boy and wings to see on the rocks in which we cast our lots of being. my womanly makes the tundra like golden. the seal hunters come home with puffins.
my heart is like the aurora as you love my poetry for being so me. you fill me with seal jelly! no! i am no gentleman myself! i am the womanly! see my ample walrus-like dugs, you scandal boy.
now sing from inside i for you the song of the womenly for to being seen. the tune is you know to be.
in 1804 the manly set sail for Uummannaq for to hunt the whale. the sun like a puffin eye in the sky as their skiffs went under the ice. the womanly danced like ptarmigants, their pants and chants like whale romance.
two hundred years past. the manly came home with no whales, the womanly left with sore tails and long trails into the vales of nails.
nine months past. bellies explode and loads of new Greenlanders are put out on the road. they hitch hike to Uummannaq, build shacks and kick back to relax.
this then is the value of the security tax.
J. ERIC SMITH 