SZ, and the SZ Manifesto

Bean Newton

Issue 33 * Fall 2013

SZ sparkles from the inciteful effervescence.
There is no spaceship scene complete without SZ.
SZ marches to the beat of syncopation.
SZ inheres to arteries the world over.
Last hunches, with or without SZ.
SZ may or may not.
Lessons lost to incessant time and/or to blackout
drinking cannot all be (mis)attributed to SZ.
SZ displays nucleotides as performance art.
Wenches unfurl their pubic necessities in homage to the passing of SZ.
Critical masses massage critical asses at the behest of insistent SZ.
Market confluences interpret the Gringas of SZ'z haircurls as
excuses to riot.
Insider trading only works without the catalytic action of SZ.
No one told SZ not to hold the live wire.
No noodles is good noodles to the enemies of SZ.
There is no reason to was or not was to denizens of the SZ suitcase.
Flybots and gnosodromes undress under the aegis of SZ.
SZ constitutes both pyrne and gyre.
The tickling distance is the trickling of SZ's flaccid heart.
November provender, in order to SZ.
Currents dance in the milklight beneath the shadowy prescience of SZ.
I would go on, but for the murder of SZs amassed beneath my widow.