Joseph Mondrella's Books

Swanocerosman

By: Joseph Mondrella

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About the Book Swanocerosman is a tale wilder than a snail or bumblebees, and along with puddles, trees. In the wild, going crazy lengths is a normality; why, there’s no way to be safely prey is named mortality. It’s gist unalike a lost cause or a prob’d hit the spot like what’s in a non-distant teapot, Philly cheesesteaks or, in addition to grilled cheese, sweet shakes. It reeks of grim things, a so dang poetic fetish, and it’s crystal initial-hearter’s artwork. So while it’s no secret lions protect their much-less feared young; what this neat fiction’s depictin’s are qualities in nature that’ve stuck out like some clouds which’re very much out plus about, or an undead deer’s tongue. About the Author Fact’s the need for love sculpted me, and the need for what’s quality. For a decade who I’m’s been lonely, & did box/kickbox since it’s straight true I’ve been lose-my-head lonely. Stuff I so’ve did isn’t cliché, much like a Covid victim’s sick pay. Based on how understandable, my cover’s tactical. Like a sheltered feller, what I come after’s vital matters. I can’t put pleasure over a good measure; otherwise, a struggler cries. Real adroit, I’ve had tears of joy.

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Dorrance Publishing

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ISBN 10

1637648227

ISBN 13

9781637648223

Swanocerosman Two

By: Joseph Mondrella

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Swanocerosman Two

By: Joseph Mondrella

About the Book Perhaps for owed-selves it’s fateful findin’, with wit wholesomely, an oasis (cure), and don’t forget, in faithful timin’, which is totally damn bodacious. With wedged lubricants, inviscid, inchings, no, weren’t as useless, as fillings, in toolsets; they weren’t some chasers of ingenuine, chipped in, felicities, but thundered, the teamed, unstumped, were more miraculous than pristine silhouettes. ‘Twas a world not found within any planetariums, what’s greater’s not outfitted, emptied slash big atriums. About the Author He’d call for attention and care like somebody who’s gloomin’ that had broken both femurs, half’s somethin’ not in the big leagues, cometh from he, no third-sixth; he’s also possessed ‘n’ has care like somebody whose rootin’-massed fans don’t with foam fingers, that’s comin’ honestly (strictly) from with love, the pro wordsmith. As a freak of nature’s hyped, useful past when its youthful, much like a pavilion, and areas, a sir’s primed noodle can’t send him to some fulltime dang oblivion.

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