Rationed compliments ensue secretly,
Honest accounting disappears like functions of context (text frame procedures) —
Physicalism (neural meditation) adapts to amoral schemes
— Travel well.

Yes or no, certainly. & all right
All attempts to throw your voice were patently dumb & of a special force,
Interventions & addictions too disproportionate
To the unknown risks. As one infringer you fail to mushroom,
Ignored. But our positions are hellbent when three or more
Discover wisdom on unaligned terms. So we need oversight.

This is almost a sonnet in breadth and depth (and if any two lines were indented, it’s a sonnet). Here we get a glimpse or more a flicker of eusocial insects. We learn very little and that’s all we get. Unlike bugs, we make it to another side of our future / past yet either way, a lot like bugs, we’ll wipe ourselves out by ‘circumstances.’

Your reading ‘circumstances’ as embedded satire results from programmed abundance. I don’t try to be funny, relax or specify the invisible.

I’m going to take my inside voice
...over here I have hidden leftovers to
twist in hot leafy acreage.
‘Come here, get out of here..
I’m out of here..’ other poll data
are largely implemented
in life naming sex. Out of here out of
mind I guess —

That’s how we want it.
Innocence concerns pyrotechnics, not intent.

Sexuality, a verge of itself pumped to stroll the bank’s surfaces —
Sex rejoined with chains of seltzer
on suspension in a state of wretchedness ..

I’m caliph of the whiners
trapped texting modulated banality.
I’m wearing hand and fingerprints from everywhere .. overlaid
w/ Shanghai speech you keep delaying.

In bar lighting, one’s eyes drift as if
undressing underwater. You see why snails
build a house. They stand around, slowly tank,
coltish to the end. Jacobeans.

Say something cartoonish.
I smell a rat. We’re still in meta space.
All this repetition is not good.
Mimesis. Don’t hold it in.
Coupons expire.

Who dealt this mess?
Lunar cycles are not analysis. The War Council is countertherapy.

Get me text edit. It’s what you thought, I did not mind leaving
You at Liberty of London for the republic
Among archliberals. Symbolic conceptualists step in multiplicities. Swimming
Synchronized. As in telekinesis, tele-spoken

As a narrator here, I’ve no place to hide, a swimming
Plateau = not finding hotter places to avoid. You care there?

Study the past if you divine Zorro’s frailty.
I watch myself in performance in a new piece on you —

and thru you I’m cutting you off.
Can’t you feel substitutions coming on?

We can blame fiery birds’ beaks

stemming out, doing our nails.

Many ideal attitudes buried below our strip down — not spanking or being spanked,

Floating up from Thoreau, after him, that is, we’re left out laughing in the rain.
Body snatching preventing us from mating, a 2nd point —

It seems like anywhere unless you knew where you were

Andro-gyrating, trying it from fear buried in misty
Piano strings! precise and going no-
 
                                                    where

Floating up nervous laughter

seeming outside ...

Canto:
How high the moon? It’s always approximate.
Just to meet you alone inside the future of equal talk —

Future men out there get mixed up like weird goings over the ocean.

Flamenco in transition. “I’m curious about sex and would like blood.”

*

We the more than curious are looking ahead. I’m just noticing, winter is gone,
blood is flowing into my fingers and feet. The rooibos’s working!
I’m on the approximate side trading thanks to your gods. Can we talk?

I’ve been coming up with syntax fabricked in aromas of surfboard.
Fully in its own bed.

Midnight horror porn is as cheesy as parody paying homage to its subject.

Nudes mean more when their heads are chopped.

Pass the white gloves.


It’s amazing
Unhappiness results from abundance. It seems cuckoo

A little before four in the afternoon.

To foil smugglers off island we’ll play long.

Please. Rate this song!
You had on your original eyeliner from weeks ago.
Everybody has prior probabilities.

New England like the rest of the Union has
been seceding from representative democracy.

Paid a phone bill at the store —
I can ask could fences not be wrought?

When I wake up I’ve moved back. It’s funny everyone has.

I’m a member of the takeaway school.
Mean something, take it away...

how my twin psyche writes more conscientiously
touching on raw parts in this endearing translation.
In your memory, throwing kisses
and how it makes us crazy for the late poetry of Rene.

I cannot stress enough
your card was de-activated.
It’s a perilous ‘was’ — let me give you a wand.
Since there are multiple aims, capital will be re-bought, redefined,
irresistibly absorbed in sleights of hand.

Detonation in the function of time — well,
There’s a tattoo for that pulpiness, sure. Promote your event.

I taught an event planner who became a spoofer.
St Olaf dressed the part.

Aw, the guest room is a home office.
Why do junior varsity wear outfits that tame their tribute?

Dining with compassionate Anne,
Cicadas are in there. For the first time she
is a friend. It’s great taking part with you.

I like what you did last time. Thanks for the straw.
You brought us spring joy.
Conquest contributes to a wonderful unanimous

— just unnerving enough atmosphere.
Any chance you’ll humor me
and stitch me up for dinner?

Sexiness is dead there, right hon? Closing Alcatraz
and that compartment of your head inside those windows
nobody would miss — w/ eyes in a glass paragraph, modern
ilk, you found yourself among them then, a prison

in binaries. There’s a little anatomic chortling:
This is your shelf, your shoulder, this is your
pelvis, this will not explain the center or
One: they name the object, two: the hero.

I follow a theory between pianist and dance,
as if I were a suffix for capital. Peace, justice, ecology —
all uplifting — standing ignited (and no more)
To establish a worldview of blind fate.

That’s not to say there’ll be no fast food.

But there’s no tie-in currently. Men like me

Are self thieving pains all ears, only ears
Before their best women and fans.

We do not impinge on feeling fine /

10 gallons of the Hirsch, please,
W/ the canonical crescent tartelle, ah..
A pipeline of debits steps across casual monotones.
Everyone’s direction shifting; our nervous system distorts like Hoefler Text

To emphasize changes in who Hoefler is over time..

Making money in stencils.

Sunshine recycles.

As we say only moments from now,
A proposition (like this) is politically cheap.

These guys (pols) are easy with a wry edge, they’re interested
In hyperkinesis, T notes
And cook dating!

Poetry is politics hardening joy orbs.
A proposition (like this) is politically cheap. I guess

…what? This early
When you got up your speech was

Vibrating w/ a head cold, falling
Flattened onto note pads in 4 dimensional motes.

You and what you say disappear, gossip!
Motes are for controlling anger, how minds are read.

I promised you a ham for painting bombast, cremating all melody fonder.

That would be indoors at our place.

Until then
I’ll have you over when life and death crack lobes of automation...

Waiting for you know who,
I hope you’re feeling great. I’m not.

Putting you in mind can’t matter
When you look back.

The challenge is to be unsaved like
In The Immigration of Faust,
— a net worth of the Bland Hotelier
Floating in self regard (until no paycheck) ..

Any title, keep that inside.
Today’s classicists cannot be ‘more serious’ someways
About RNA but there they are, asleep after only 5 decades
Blindfolded. Such brilliant dislocations were expected.

U mothers, don’t care — fold it up for the full idea.
All that wave back protect all if prologue.

Beyond us, them, 4% atoms, tiny
wriggling strings; hidden, 22% of the tug —

dark and unknown predicates
fixated on procedure, a luscious, noiseless bond.

Not running, walking rapidly, I cross
the hall where the heat transfers ....

We can call it that
adding up the lead and lead time, eyes

open, moving, waiting, meaning
it but hardly tempted.

A rational effect? You and I can’t attempt it,
touching on our dual roles as we reradiate consensus.

Feminism has few forms of address —

A poem is..
Does it matter?
The more you put your finger on contradictions in spatial tensions
You wander out above your welcome in a retrospective..

Texting is not going anywhere deeply soon.
Thus neo-cubism stinks, ruched with fart.
S’up? A fresh little hellcat video
W/ impact tinctures, shadows and inaudible signs from a long history

I promised you a ham for painting bombast, cremating all melody fonder.

That would be indoors at our place.

Until then
I’ll have you over when life and death crack lobes of automation...

Waiting for you know who,
I hope you’re feeling great. I’m not.

Outdoors a muted roll call gathers under bright archways,
A hazard to paper aircraft taking off.

Um sure I guess.. Don’t know why we are in this automatic summation now or a few seconds from now after the transaction but before thinking about it, looking it over, with only a few elements incised to form solid bands reprieving vice versa.

Barnstable is a manifest force of habit. A marriage ago it was my fault, it seems, I figure.
Talk, the walk, swingers bass fishing in the environment, first worlds we heat up stay young at the edge yet I still have cheques.

When we struck an alliance back home right after the start I thought, friend or not? It’s no way to begin altho ultimatums were rephrased and moral aspirations became footloose and incontestable as Seven Bagatelles.

Nah. It’s probably just a major fuck up.

*

Today’s arm band chafes. 100 months after
it’s Arvo Pärt chafing:
& oblique like you, insipid defiance groaned out, hardly credulous,
ultra.

It began as parallel futures on a projective plane,
Why move into the crash test?
Why go there without force: When we rehearsed this,
it made no language difference what we
believe, what the soul is.

But I’m done in by grief and American English.
I’m maundering without a commodity or form;
structurally I’m inside hypotheses
to mottle or disengage hierarchal bravado, and I can’t go on
without a preamble — an episode in "possibly local slippery conditions."

Before Schuyler, tall stars were accreting, my yeh —
Viewing rain twisting, “tensile lines,” I wave back, s’up?
We’re at the prelims of average theory
and heights now and whose momentum?

Our partners shiny then fallen, with grey streaks.
Huh? Fired up in smoke flames ideal sparks glow,
A red moon indispensable for smearing the made light
In a tiered border-like scrawl.

..in compliance w/ odds-off bets already placed... Nobody totally killed it.
A new intelligence of largess is untouched, the image of youth.

The estate repaired to is offered only in the ‘thereabouts’ pattern:

still, it’s not overrated, I whisper to you, falling myself for reincarnation

roughing
it ..oh,
wait we did this already..

There’s a cloying aspect when able bodies gather to
phenotype, we have to polish our devices.

each of us a stairwell math set
to snap out of going off reckless & naked yet
shooting for triumph.

The footloose part is our resolve that comes in processing integuments,
— Invest now, daylight garners weekly tea, investigative retailing, a drum set, kettledrums..

Here’s our take on getting back together. It carries a piece (noun phrase)
to tensive healing (a method) stitched to transparency, washes of shadow —

English language trends:
We can’t compress enough or too much. We were one people at one time.
We
also =
a glistening database advanced by textuality. The underground =
stick abstractions and collisions within a dominant tribal identity
tracing out how to refine / displace any remnant of contempt.
Classification adjoined by adaptation passed thru descendants.
This break and entry taking place under a balloon holding our beef jerky.

Youth:
Fast development, now nothing.
What’s my business? Aperture systems (slow poetry students) led me to holding
These volatility models from tv, vocalism in a sense.
Hidden risks lift weights (merge accounts request).
CVS photo counter. I know him, he knows me, I admire him, he back.
Instructions (making up circumstances) are errands; I’m my own boss.

A note: to John W,
Illusory a
-utomatism maintains a low balance outdoors evolving pretexts that amount to near
zero, a
large zero, derived from sweet metaphors for punishing discourse. A
nonetheless graceful concealment provides fractions within our known physics,
demeaning no value and a
variable either way.

I’m new to housewarming.
That’s why we have two arrays for time & harmony.
Can waving time like a ‘crown’ of contradictions
supersede nature,
a piece of research asks: Why open
atoms under nth dimensional rhetoric only?
Not quite a theory, it’s string conjecture.
Intimation, insinuation, innuendo.
Then it was something I ate.

Once the genre is I like gay art I know nothing about it.
Voices, say, personalities, like voices, are lent us. It’s directional, a voice in the workplace, seaside, e.g. Along the marsh distant particles of sun reverse, all presumptions of innocent human form, leading up to the bridge and

lattice: All around human hearing you can find warmth. Live, charged, brilliant to the coast.
An obsession invades a host, the work and life. Like the family and fellow nationals you had.
Four husbands.

Not bad.

The 10 impulses exist.
W. Stevens would think they cut down stubs in the landscape. Hardly by design we open our front door and see what politics didn’t do. The shortest walk ignited by havoc, honest, exhausted people — from it’s-not-the-same-now to the refined science of chaos celebrity — the betrayal of stubs is addictive.

That insight gives one the strength to make oneself at home, stay there, ameliorating.

For the seraphim it’s highly readable to a point.
The 13th century dealt supremacists,
All morning, day, it never ends;
Our participation per chance — an 18th century
Add-on,
Earthbound generality swallowed / over cooked

.. fond memes — once that was a word — a good deal of democracy beyond
words turning into toasty spoors — deconstruction at last! hardly
These data waving in rocks of sunlight, gaunt & obese
Blowing cold.

I don’t know what they are
Or what they’re doing, but even they seem appalled.

We fail to clarify after political glamor there’s poli rant along with new protocol (old manners) to be watched, even policed — topics on anyone’s mind (one of a heavy pulse), so a few words take on character. I’m trying to clean [snip]

I have to leave enough after you’re finished / I’m finished, a limiting procedure, so I’m framing it tight, manufactured —

Current government gives a glimpse into events shaping war or “The Owl and the Nightingale.”

The passive voice made you angry; propositional semantics =

key [snap] decisions, arguments, further jibes, shaming within a sub-class of invective, a face-off to persuade waverers; Julius Caesar, Juliet, “Much Ado About Nothing,” “Battle of Maldon,” where Saxon to Welsh sat on decline benches, threw slurs across the Blackwater banks, add flytings of Skalds of Old Norse in Simone’s Droplaugarsona Saga, as well as the Scot Dunbar et al, “Montgomerie et Polmart,” plus vomitous insult at one another from Middle Normans freezing progress for the republic of the nightingale.

It’s closeness ahead shaped by time that goes by.

Ode: I’m sleep.
An only hill
I’ve been searching
Awake most nights:

A clean face in the morning − caped
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light, the best.

Dogs in woods by the ocean
Together, like them and like us,
Can you fill in the stillness?
Keep an eye out, the ocean over?

Repeat this so it’s approved,
“I don’t know about you”
But in a tone more affirmative
Like the jeweler’s words for whale
-bone / in measured blues − all the while

This stretch, like all comebacks, tells a story dropping hints of a larger, open-minded we-don’t-know − was it something to do with the singer to one side, blocking another?

Do we lead a life another sings with you?

Man, my dream
is to be a professional writer.

You. Are. Shit. Ahem.
(A con.) One w/ a dog dyes hair gem red.
We leveraged arbitration groups to be remiss ..
How long .. well?

I agree. To be reviewed is to be published.
Teaching can’t be taught. I’ll ..

Let me pull an invisible
to the eye hair off your blouse to increase the breed (1).
When you tear down walls in ink you find your living partner. He. She’s (2) a (social) creature,
capable of more compulsive communication, traveling in large mobs or schools.

Well, it read 2 out of 3 did.

I hardly know beams.
And will never know you. I’ll give you a call.

From the background: you hear the sizzle to rock climbing in a trend of atomized suspense. I’m pointing to other hoping trends apparently stuck in sedimentation, winning bets, tho, because I bring humor to our relationship /

Rhode Island’s motto also has hope, implicative of passivity discharged by shore conditions, handsome, changeable, calm, all nerves.

Cal Tech outsmarts Harvard. Colgate is a better ‘deal’ than either.
Tod’s loafer beats Weejuns. Sure.
MoMA in the original shifted genealogy, different periods of shifts changing contexts for us; we were both wearing black Lacostes.

To paraphrase ... you can’t predict
Say when nothing is wrong
What is the considered argument

For missing stairs...

There’s a missing subject header.
As a nonpractitioner attempting authenticity in speech,
I’m adding, right off, I don’t know if that helps.
There is the cynically obvious flesh and blood bind.
We were curious will do. A protracted lament would be awful
to ennoble extraordinary times. Our cohort might
flock to lines of credit.

Anyway hipster
is a contradiction in terms.
In terms a shortcut to prediction.
Unilaterally a hipster

throws out softballs,

variously literal — the power

system (it’s decentralized) semi

managed as yoga

mounting a bait

and switch to chalk up

the utility of lingerie,

discreet shipping, and in
this case it won’t be serene.

The enlightened instant comes
to how this can be put together
surely, entirely.

Something’s wrong with the skyline.
I was just saying
Any plateau shows why.
But here’s proof to diffuse in a few and twist what
I say, A muddled cool, ah I’ve
...I think you said that, and made it new perspectives

Of immense sadness achieved exclusively thru flattery,
Muddled cool then calculates grandiosity, no shine.

Of course there’s a less muddled cool to take out,
An infancy — paraphrasing Stein, the same age inside — no name.. an...
Authentic vantage w/in voice matter
Running everywhere

As tho helium released great vowels sponged w/ saliva and
You wake up cartoon-lean — Inconceivable the sky’s angled, swerve-y
— Ah, turns out not badly!

His haiku was stiff: full, bel canto, with a slight

Vocal member of the Southern Illinois Cultural

Studies group carrying a sawed off

Shotgun.

Just all right, try
soundboards, acoustic bass, acoustic chemistry turning out scribbled freshness for contraltos breaking glass over car hoods to drown out the dog track —

It’s no single fool’s doing, making it easier to borrow. Clenching-tight

I’m sorry so sorry — Can you sing that?

There are blasts of ceation out of nowhere.. based nowhere near

here.
I’ve discovered squeezing brings up more meta-activity.

Still. Very well, these charming Blimpie squirts fizzle midact

like food that frays.

Just read children get 10% of daily calories on outings

drinking soda (pronounced soder around here).

That’s how they become bilingual while selectivity
pushes school rankings as superstitions. Based on fact

bulldogs are hurling on a seesaw feeling fine, really
most footage balances if you acquiesce — my point may be lax
tho fake news is visually relaxing.
This long out I stick with iambs, no questions asked.

I hope you enjoy your kind together.

Indifference applied as torture —
On my part

wistful, wistfully unnerved —
an ethics valet —

So your free hand betrayal
can be decently fondled.

I’m trying to be a better person
beach fishing

for a hardline self presence,
staying positive as an old salt cajoles.

Taking pleasure from firs, looking up
through wrought iron, 5th floor...

nobody ever goes higher than
this, what we make our habit in life.

When you got up your voice was
Vibrating w/ a head cold, falling
Flat into dust in 4 dimensional motes.

Vibrating = Sturm und Drang,
Dust controls anger / how minds are wed.

Talking now pushes us into 4th.

Nice save. There’s a title now for most anything.
The sentence: the Bruins lost squawking about losing
diagrams the opportunity.


Diagram: ‘But should we use quotation marks?’
That’s a whammy..
let me think.

By then our thought freezes

just why we reserve dopey incongruence



nested within notes to adjunct scenery,

the right tonal performance, a normative outcome.

Nice save. One of them.
Ah ‘summary’ jitters keep an eye out, a Bruins fool fence
-sitting to guard tall shapes and volumes of light

stuck on could it really be “quoted.”

There are procedures for mourning. There are a slew of them.
I can’t say these things. These same things. Page one, no one, page 101.

I may continue to continue. To be pressed on cardboard.
It almost makes me say all aboard. Then it “goes.”
for Ted Greenwald

Poodle décor: I lost my nonfaith in the underground —
Now, like Joe Orton I play Fenders unter dem Deckmantel
Shih Tzu in barrel ate red pork rinds, sick
Pomeranian necklaced w/ black cord —

Act 2 revised

Yeah.

Need visual evidence in setting this episode,

Again chalkboard your mind,
We’ll have to cuddle up to Kotzwinkle alloys
(the big certifying step)
on which moonlight shone!

Sulfur:

Goin to the chapel and we’re goin to get may-reed.


Let’s start with the a b c of it. Come on, we make mistakes: No one talks about it so humans don’t fully realize.



The ineptitude of continuing the ceremony motivates the plan, a spiritual prank, an outright lie, vowel shifts ‘living’ in sin, associates and fellow nationals glimpse each fetus as important as it flies. 



A fetus in these circumstances means drug dependence, except yours of course.



I note its pale eyestripe of looking and reading. Down curved and black edged, its camouflage of being read. Frankly, it’s not that much into whom? When the father was asked, he hesitated and then spoke, “Not me.”

It’s real privilege to be singled out

..once there was a C-class ...

we stay onboard.
Suffering, complaining, two out of 3 observers got off, depleting the shipment. Surnames are ..oh forget it, uh? They’re randomly conjoined.

They mentioned their legendary roots, cleansed of even the thought of terror. (I heard there’s a user’s list of trainers and trainées.)

Fall back, breathe while our new rescuers get authenticated.

Breathe, again, push, five..

It’s about un-breaking ranks

To achieve a balanced personality we come to bury.

The music brokerage remains in aerospace.
A month ago a morning flew by.
My best friend is my
most erotic partner. It’s a cooperation.
But nature’s purpose has nothing to do w/ that.

It’s snowed,
attack dogs toughing it out, snow
melting before white statuary. Of cats.

The Flying Nun does not exist.
Scant dissonance, no disruption. There are
Mere appearances, such as a vantage baseline,
Retail boundaries.

Monkish materiality lives on — it’s left the office to half-
Center on taking off.
My 3-D models are you & everything else I can be w/ w/out you
— to hold chaos again.

It dawns on me
Before blasting forward chaos is offhand
— having seen it, been married to it earlier I’m where

I don’t mind if I look worn or beaten up. I’m wearing


The national nun costume,
                                         stretch poplin, in a trance.

What is the difference between imminent and threatening? How do you pronounce annunciation? Atheist or decision theorist?

Emily’s neighbors, according to the census,

None here. Their presence ‘leftovers.’ Filled with compression, ideas were opening a mathematics of situation (Thoreau) and unobstructed white sky (Whitman) (also unstructured), bouncing up years later with satiric multiples (Wieners, Ricard). That’s only yesterday! Their contextual effects themselves like scrub pine — which reservation? — become more fearless (less indiscernible) when innocence, acrobacy and self-neutering partner, vauntingly in plain English, a content to the non extant.

I believe in fact
There’s a way we recover from riches and most happiness / as litigants in the field henceforth —

As the context as field once there was a C-class

We stay on board ..

Breathe, kick, push, kick, four / five ..

It’s about letting go and taking you out of context —

O Buddhists of progress **
You’re back in vertigo

Yielding authority practicing karate high noon
: Yeh, sure, take me on your own.

A fan on Jazz Spectrum brought up vast nothingness just now. Nothing is vast and tiny.
Or maybe nothing is merely pragmatic, more like a mannerist enigma-cutter modifying collective memories w/in incessant self-interrogation where one can share one’s convictions and w/ Sonny Rollins, ‘Come, Gone.’

There are no pleasure substitutes, after all.
The defrayed honeymoon can last, and it’s normative, blushing with its song of guts and neurons spinning bottles —

There’s no hurry.

After a honeymoon deflections accrue. My heart is breaking to go on.

A genuine bagatelle
Takes substance and breadth, not at this end; my going price reacts to audacious desire
(a rare cigarette case, may I?) looked after in dangerous tranquility and
No thanks. Just the big meal. Inductions to your other habits.
Just because you and I are snarly, externalizing ideas —
The gleaming haze drags down sculptures of felted helium
Like Opium the parfum done over by spinning in warm wind..
..of your utter loss in scents, your scent.

With good optics you can’t be serious.

Bosons exhale thru rainy nightfall. I reason their surrogate likenesses (x) are more serious and more newly shot down. Razed; rain’s over, dancing on the lawn, rain light flown as an oily sample.

Longhand example:

Anguish over a panel about reasoning and not writing anything down, angst in its emptied refraction dancing on a taillight for syntactical beings (in a sentence) on a muddy sidewalk.
So that’s one.

To be on all sides of a single man

Side streets lead to hourly weather, to the power grid

the rust fabric of walls about to be torn down, the danger of falling temperatures; they did.


I’m writing for one reason alone, to sound an alarm (a big hot light).



Duly of course not sounded.

I try not to be serious.

Credo (fixed): You’re good typing.
Fees balanced

After.. there are vector
Utilities (direct flares) for expressing enzymes with lips.

Hessian perfume like axioms —

You’ve already eaten some..
I had a bite. Of some.

Turn coincidence into wailer muscle parrying
Us to hint who’s who...

You know it thru an evolutionary pin drop —
Look me in the eye, I’m ruined.

Diagram conditions of abstraction as vicarious at first before conforming to a belief system

like mind and body worship. It’s pointedly me-centered.
Gilbert Ryle asks, “might not every action or reaction be a piece of shamming?”

Finally! I’ve been harlequinized.
It’s never the same wearing fangs.

I’m having a pitch dark
obvious brainstorm
so why stop

Only, let’s call it
O baby
all the way unnhh..

O yesses encompass in advance
shimmer
— crash. Al-

So let me see..
dreams get advanced
returning the favor.

My view of SSTs is fuzzy, made fuzzier

Because of blazing fog. Rumor has it we settle for non-empirical fears and precedent touting prejudices, converting them to virtue. Virtue has it immanence is halfway-habitualized, wanting or declaiming against clarity through observation.

Americans are living longer. You see yourself among them until you can’t. It’s not too long parking spaces have a word with you. Children are the future. Keep them distracted.

Thank you for your approved transaction. Every atmosphere hides five parts. Calculate the new payment. Wait for the forthcoming I don’t deserve you.

— for James Brown

To reverse evolution we need to rush back
to hear more about causality
that cannot be considered in words
like suspension of liberties and financial slaughter.

Perhaps the most un-puppet-like new memory of a cry lining up for a voice..
Destroy what’s not yours, screw, laugh & you won’t be hurt yet you’ll feel it binding heartache & muffling adult seniors in swaddling clothes when they grow mean.

Why are you here?
This is my apartment. I live here.
Why are you here?
I’ll tell you why I’m here. Oh, I’ll tell you why!

I’m here because...
Go on, say it.
l... Go on!
I want you, Jeb.

I’m consumed with jealousy because I want you for myself.
Oh, please!
Admit you have feelings for me.
I have feelings about you, not for you. There’s a difference.

Here it is. Rod returns as a world-famous impersonator
and hypnotist, but here’s the twist, you’ve been studying
in Europe at the Josh Hartnett Institute.
I like it. Life and death issues. I’ve been abroad.

Comatose in Vienna. Just for a while. Foolproof.

It’s a continental, world weary sleep binge. You’re a
trance inducer. That's it.

I like it.

Will you call the bosses and talk?

Upstairs they don’t talk, they’re hot for a killing — They said that?

What?

— Here it comes...

I’m so sorry.
I murder some homeless girl? Are you nuts?
She was just there. Sweetie, it was an accident. She falls on the knife.

Then what?

— There’s a media trial.

Another trial?

There hasn’t been a trial since — they wanted a death upstairs.

Closing windows, pissing.
Perfect! Beautiful...
When the soup lady arrives, something inside of you snaps. A crack-up.
Exactly, exactly. It’s all gotten to you... the poverty, deprivation,
peeing in the streets. So you reach into your bag... and you grab a
knife! You take the knife, and you lunge at the soup but immediately
fall into a coma. You are mute, so you cannot speak, you grunt a little.
Okay? Try it. Good.

You’re confused? I have my poem now.

I would kill to have you on all fours.
Would you? Then you know what you have to do.
Make your closest aide a murderess — Oh, a death!
Yes. I will turn the country against her.

It can’t be one of the regulars — Not even Peter?
No, Pete’s gold, especially with the impotency thing coming up.

I had this idea. No ethnicity.
Not like gogo boots or a crucifix or anything...
but eyelashes to bring your eyes out.

We have a cigarette for the beach scene.
What do you think of smoking?

No, I don’t think I've seen anything like it before.
That’s why I slept so poorly last night.

For if I tell you, you’ll say
I’m making a big deal out of nothing.

You know I'm bipolar. What? Nothing. All right...

We can make the poem mute. If it doesn't
speak, we don't have to pay it as much.

A wordless deaf-mute. What could
be more what you are?

Then maybe we’ll be pals — Not good ones, I’m!
What is this, PBS?
Very good, very true. I love what you're doing.
I think we could try it one more time, and this time..

I don't know.
Maybe try off-rhyme without your shirt.
Sure.

Will you be having dinner with wine?

Morning prayer.

Spectacle, desire, the physical. 3 things one ought not to be without. When I find them in others, I know I’m getting close to unending originality.
All for one is dated. I won’t practice knowing what it means to maximize experience over accomplishment.

Just piano and voice.

I won’t do more, not even for track officials powered with centrifugal force from a hot past.

I should add my visual gamut speeds up, surrounded by haves and have-nots of guitar spinning in freezing wind.

Auto minimalism (3 steps):
I don’t know any means to practice minimally externalizing ideas to see ourselves as snow in sunlight; I don’t know what it means to counter contextuals and theory dated over a hundred years ago or earlier!

I think I might keep to one or two tenets particular to esthetics, but it’s narrowly vernacular across a global surface.

Vernacular means I’m not doing it unless I step ‘aside’ and get paid strategically.

Dance:
I was with two others outside on the steps, buzzed, dressed in a navy polo, jeans, beard. You came and asked for a drag, which I gave up right away. You had me light it for you. You stood with us.

No, I didn’t cut anything.

You were staggering around outside the club, mister. Drunk. Alone.

By the time of the fourth or fifth revision the poem is lost. That’s what I want, not what the poem wants.

There’ll be one execution just in case.
A natural order appoints time and trees between colors..
Colors to some are self-founded tacit amnesties half-caught
off guard, gauged to tongue-tied-ness in marginalia, another story, of course..

To show riots of color does little or no good...
Who will restore the last movements so colors get reinvented by half-turns?
To behold the typology colors kill for is like destringing a violin.

A new platz of disharmony.

Ferrous sulphate awaits silence
in short, mid-sublime

memorized treetops
pluming mind-boggling quiet

— quiet we won’t see
as ribbed granite at night..
Ferrous
sulphate

scathed by clarity, a large opus
stating its case for war

like the tsetse
you fall asleep before us.

Your anger patched, somber floating over the deal —
the deal of obese bronze

that doesn't exist to the darkest bends in the sun.

I wish we could just get along.

It’s a north v south service pattern.
So it’s sad
with statues toeing the marble edge.
Hey angel,
his right ear bitten off by a dog
flattening memories of serenity with artifice
near a decal of shade trees —

I will have you
as a human genre
presses down on his knees
                           — the hereafter

he walks through
on bronze hooves..

O Harry, Prince
a severe honey glow

crowning his shoulders — groomed

disgust in his walk, his theater connection

perhaps addressing us, the radiant

pull at his mom’s sleeve

emptied of that given moment

— no prevention,

a childhood in the middle of a square

expression — you might address — at least once.

Geometry respects the brain,
somebody felt like a piggyback.

Preliminary talk we said,
knowing I’m going to grow

— just drove all the way
from Michigan. That proves I
can smooth your hair then I’ll do
your cheeks, your temperature would

like it was
classicizing my senses

just before you shave. I’m
noting how your chin juts into your form —

It's deeper than that really
a perfect animal halo front to back.

A blinding texture pours over adverbs, trucks...
Is that all I’m having for dinner?
Eating as I advance through security,
I promise nothing. I die today!
When the new millionaires got off we rocked,
Turning the environment into identity and rumors.

Writers like me consume their own slapstick
when there’s a conceptual contingency to max up, along
with requisite ethical structure to examine taste levels.

Now you know what to expect.

You can’t put limits on free-lancers’ exuberant leisure
within a post-x theoretical commune of vengence
and ice-hopping atmospherics while
working staff sits this out, blood-soaked, shaking.

I weigh your Tanakh, your great granddad’s words about

Bang you’re dead

Average, guilt along with bland lucky tones, a problem. No gist, too popular.

So relax thine form here.

Everything dark-accented inflates 3 dimensions into immense mist of

Poor wee sparrow’s beating yet breathing

True to form A.

The unequal in luck float more already. I hope you’re happy.

Ladies, we’ve made some decisions.

Ladies tailored upstairs conserved for the surface
torn off mountainous pates (veined with woods),
in a rage and afterlife like phosphorous’s.
Leo was dismissive of Gertrude’s writing. Stein took
a working vacation, arranging piss flowers. Bianca!
Without that sweet sous-perfect of brotherly disdain
she may not have gone hunting in the lather of swing.

I don’t mind if I look worn or beaten up. I’m wearing
The national costume, swaggering in poptlin, in a trance.
I must guard against Hyannisport as in overenthusiasm.

A truffle and goat cheese pizza, for all its ambition, feels contrived next to Talking Chimp.
The Talking Mallard Dogs sounded as good as they looked, they could speak for themselves, and they came off so authentic you and your pet thought they were Talking Chimps. But they produced only vowel sounds from a larynx implant device.
Talking Chimp is laughing now unable to stop touching himself.
Spa services await you, Talking Chimp!

This cloaking device avoids detection. Slanting, lost, an hour later we’re beginning to ride over borders, borders are still porous, just look at these adventure! I need some topper wipe.

You’re turning me on.

There’s an interlude between devices where I wish you’d taken up singing of thingness.

Conformity is a serious consequence and urban hazard
And it goes well to recall that feeling inside you, too,
How prominently your attention became an asking price.

(End of asking)

People are funny-looking, I'm noticing.
Winter’s gone, blood is flowing into our fingers and feet.

Faith and consequences.

As I walk in there’s filming somewhere between whispers.
I’m desperately hard to get. Or is it you?
Between whispers, it's not what you bring. It’s you're hitting
your stride, what you take away.

What time have you? Can it be simpler? watching you bathe w/in / or anyone bathe / n—
—ow in flinty daybreak synthetics, sepia on seraphic white...

More loiter, intent. Two smile, neither laugh. They’re wearing harnesses w/ panoptic properties extending their blood-pull orbit toward..
That’s about verse one.
Verse two, the future would give more / only when staying is introduced, grief-stricken we have one question.

I fought for you?

What does it mean to work?  I don’t know that either. What I know is how to belong, stake out territory and bust heads, creating an atmosphere of trust.

All day long I’ve been pissing people off, and it feels shard-like as elegies for the poor in this country of ours who stay up late, husking corn, spinning wool, boiling sap.

It has never mattered much what Emil or Chet’s work is about, has it?

After the gangsters left, John picked up their business cards and flicked them into the trash. Leaves outside waved in vulgar arabesques. “How do I get out of here?”

As the day darkened, a crowd of new gangsters waving signs got clobbered by a single somnolent thug wielding ordinance, and I watched the crowd fall, empty as Baudelaire’s conscience. I feel guilty now, because we have three more minutes and I should drive around the block.

Your kissing me into the future, leaving
Circle-K muzak for your battered carapace..

Really, we get down to heaven
In that bucket? I can’t see the bridge

Nor the smoking outline that subdues us
Suspending it while we can.

Adorno says plain speech is fair game starting over (in the middle) but its predicate doesn’t count. (It’s always been ur-technical.)

Surely there’s no foundering beneath the social parasail of violence.
Rules commit us. Not even the afterlife can stop.

This emphasis is not in the verbatim over

supply. That is, which lexicon will be appointed most enabling. Ellipses
Point the way out & will continue —
how we express and re-express ideas,
simple or not. Multiple ideas break down or / and up...

constituent, subordinated data
emerge, important as big data, simple and not.

Simpler the better. Bad poetry yes,
scansion none the less.

As a boy I was an excellent golfer. I had a wide, modern swing.
Back in the day dad offered he thought it would be the kind of backdrop I like.
Then I began bandying names, Jason, Pierre.

Jason I admit had a welcoming touch but Georgio made me smell like a corsage.

I’m glad we agreed.

A winning session for crude —
I left you off unleashed, extricated in time.
You’re still in danger within all the same sex venues,
Like my brothers agog before a generic object.
You look transparent.

Hanging on contains the universe. Imagine the hurt.

A tornado console on fire keeps you asleep with trainees.
From there, you find time to focus on more challenging work.
Swedish modern demands a few portable desks, secret drawers packed with crystal and tools for investment. Three-tone white linen signals friendship to burn directly from the scans, and falconry, as well as newer audio initiatives.

Chopin today —

Tant pis, pierced reliquary. What poetry needs now is a good berating.
We go for the mo ody and unexpected.
You overnighted ethanol and vodka, good to great, but the bionic glove is a godsend. When I light its sterno and carefully place it under a ‘piston,’ the subtracted j-walkers return with blues renditions of surreal counterculture.

Of course, we can make them not care.

Compromise won the brief.
Chanson, pitch where the living talk for the dead / for their
willingness to compromise.

The sky pressure is scents diffusing as the outer
blue above marshaled over the property, the blue
matter level, over and over out, a headlong cloud
chalking it up to everyone.

Follow directions.
Maligned of normalcy while a buddy hoax is perpetrated,
covert specialists use meta-emotional differences to price
advantage for incriminating thoughts.

In Japan they have I novels, with sticky hooks and variations
on Euro-American models, cantilevering their insides with a flood
of outsiders. A flood of decals promotes matrices.

Reed replied fiber. I thought about it.

When I came in I shied away from sharing the room temperature, but I was aware of looking spoiled by views and acreage. What the hell, I pledge you all abstracts, a wholly hidden idiom of renderings, the creamy highlighting of passages and of whole systems out-of-focus, a lovely coffee table-sized read.

The cracks should be bridged with glass fiber.

“Absolutely,” Professor Mulholland replied.

Doomsday Door A or B? Let’s start with an idea that makes us think differently about its components. If you or I have an idea to process a text or, more broad, an artifact — a central concern, subject to critical and conceptual analysis is, how does the processed result change ways of thinking about the process? In other words, does the artifact generate inquiry into both (a) the who, how, when, why it came about and (b) the utility of its replication or adaptation into the future?

Passion has its instigators, followers, onlookers. Which is which? How about going bonkers as an emergent lyrical property rather than following algorithms? What if, when a strange poem and appreciation of it turn up together, blanket antagonism and doubt about a future of poetry nosedive? Underscore a future, not the only one. As with any doubling of force everything seems to follow a silent samurai-like strategy: poem and commentary cohere wickedly, coolly, and it all seems thoroughly justified according to a new order.

Her bourgeois red hair, his gainsaying oomph, we're cruising at altitudes of theorem, and quack probabilities dim until we restructure our credit history, wrap it in clear plastic. Where does the political economy have us put it? His and her terrain is also yours and mine, since we’re all for one as subscribers to the regulatory plutocracy..
Let her go, let him do want he was elected to do..

Sorry, not tonight...

Love your inhuman neighbors. Ghost writing their ideology is pure authorship, a reduced antithesis to fake sounds and false distance. We're all redistributionists, psychologically living librettos. Politics is anger, useless bruising rhetoric. And money is gross, always. We cross the road tonight. Join the revolution of the ex-rich slicing up symbols for our very first media push with an opening dedication to the Ramones covering Cole Porter. Whatever they call you girls.

The invention of worship is over.
A wall of calm is put up, under which pillow talk can begin.
Thus an authentic first language, dance, charades get raised here and natural quests forcibly asserted.

Cultural obligations shape who we are, the last phase of withdrawal from a deadlock in eerie nuance for future attributes,

                                        pond stones having shown us their breasts.

The topic is civility now. Trees in place, defiantly miscellaneous, thanks to Leitkultur, the treeway on a berm of civil-democratic permissions reformed as disruptive presumptions built along hedges and headwinds from within and, as it were, without civil unions that can scar us inhabitants.

Do you follow me?

An octopus taken no more than once a day.
Minutes after your work is filed ..
Make that ‘work’ to ‘file’
Mating, Madame, can whip you up ..
Can I call you back in the moment
Or will we be going anyplace for sympathy we gave up?

The label was a headscarf more than obvious,
Wild-eyed, on the curt side, one makes preparation responses
Like all the others’, the ballroom looks glowing
& tiled back & forth mistily
Across an immense daze,
Half of it waxing with the plump bride
Adorned along varietal circumstance.
She once kissed a cat at her aunt’s place.
So she made an inappropriate shoe choice.
It's probably 8:54 out west still she
Has no close uncles in America.

Previous experience takes us halfway to dress rehearsal,
prompting chronological order in as many words.

A good number demonstrate the expiry date.
A few of us, let’s put it superbly, are incredulous top
-down.

*

To continue —

orphans are 1) bad syllable breaks — there should be no syllable breaks! 2) bad line breaks — just 1 or 2 short words on next line; 3) bad page breaks — just 3 or 4 lines on 2nd page. . BAD.

You’re a world-famous trance inducer. That’s it.
Montana homeland defense initiatives; ever higher heels; hideous poems. Bankrolled genocide; hideous poems.

P 30, missing italics.

I’m not religious.

Having seen again what I know about me,
I take note of what I like about you.
Apaches? More than the guys, I'll miss the vehicles.
I love carrying everything in.

A poem fires up photoshop.

A poem is a picture — I read madras pea
Coats — albino kittens hitting crescendos annoying cringing robots.
Drown me out, speed bags. Drown and kiss the cleft, sanguinary as dissolvents —
Making lock up toxic.

What a night. No problem
I slurp eating what’s reflected in your mind.    

Milk white saucers containing light —

Declutter, depersonalize,
let’s snorkel down. Terrific view.    
I saw you from across a flotilla  

marbling your hands  

like tracks to a timetable, no touching...

you be a woman I'll be a man.  

The simple complex of entire atonement —  

touch television — now proceeding normally  

the mercury-brimmed scree  

insubstantial in its unexpectedness  

daybreak like absentia we leave before asking why there’s a handful of the lily, too weak for real pain evaporating into the leg  

— no touching of the hair or face pumping like a fountain

                                          a dangerous, frisky slither  

on the train to a continuum;

tv ghosts retaliate against / falling or falling out  

in daylight and programming on a sheer precipice.

Sonnet to the UK:

There are no new recipes for disaster.
For subatomic life this is well understood, mostly
unspoken, but how was I supposed to know? I put my
finger there — this was the first time — “Great.
We’ll just hold your thumbs.
Down.”

It was maybe weeks later I remembered, “I
feel like burning myself.”

Yes, another form of dance, elf.
No aplomb in nature, please. No

Living among ilks of valid scouring colloids — simple?
No mimic measure, no ceremony swats from

“plinthing a drumbeat”
Also.

Ode on hold a sec. There’s a world truce out there (frog protection).    
  
And I got my satellite tag on.    
  
I see foreign spies’ otherness skips over the ripeness above abstract concretion,   
  
a foreign road crossing that boasts diode lanterns blinking at the dark ends off blades (of ovulation), a dungeon then holding hardened fire unobstructed by a cause other than war; you see. You know who you are.   
Soldiers’ kids are found comfortable,    
the plush of whatever intestine, Geoffrey,    
  
you want in their trauma to track them down    
  
to dump out total forgetting, that is one’s    
  
shedding at once a few moments as    
  
laugh-hate gauges a flogging    
  
violators’ stained way-with-words —   
  
the well, meaning (=) sand-pit, wrecked again out in the sun.

No home to stay at. No cell service.
That’s what it reads over one entrance. To put it together, total anonymity makes the inside disappear with our bed in it.

*

Dormant question:

Is omniscience riches?

Unlike Bowie & Thoreau in Japan, I seemed angry. I bought my first balance ledger. (Moleskin.) But I learned a lesson.
There’s no equilibrium.
Before that Japanese syntax got molded apart. Molded like sister & brother drummers & saxophonists playing to a micro environment, backing it up with inexact backbeats multiplying from before any interim tempo took hold.

There was no party.

Well, our faith promised us immortal lives, backup roles that made us teen idols,

Central characters in a morality play we lost track of.



I gradually began to buy things in no order, branched out a little finding a passion for monster movies.

De rigueur for now is farfetched. / Let’s consider what might outrank Zen. / Your dialogs sound libertine laced w/ Frankfurt School brio, some science fiction

— all right, let’s start the open air in complete command of nothing.
Wearing a wigless wig is one method and model.
Measure = unbending contradiction, full, official division in one’s mind and 1 other!

I’m refilming ways that seem hard to manage.

Let me hold us in the dark... It’s a future perfect thought

as your body keeps moving, clouds part. The lonely aerodrome rushes to litmus introspection, snug, sotted with the urge to fit nothing in.

That’s how being with you works asleep.
                                        Slapstick.

It was detached numbers and frequencies.
“Pronounce” it

That’s good.
Now draw the strings. OK.
— what do you know!

Mayhem goes off softly
So hard to shovel, soft to fall
White, rose, pale red —

A roving shadow feeling like
A thermometer — legends says,

Crossing senses blood standing’s a fossil orange.
More feeler than hand,

It shakes the nombril ray,

A maneuver on high just dimming the drowned thumb,
A sculpture with a cup on it.

The focal point is the entity with many focuses getting to foci.
Isn’t that a calling?



Meanwhile, your eyes fill with unmeasured disassociation.
Your hair’s on the brink.

Song: In ‘open’ debate and with most any staged lingo you learn to think for yourself fast, when you’re young, willful, if it’s in your nature to have people behaving as you ought; you start along these lines thinking in bed as BF Skinner must have

Nodded off. Doctor...

There are subtitles, various languages. You dream
while staying awake and translate the exposed back of someone else dreaming.
Nothing accrues but a lifetime of waking thoughts. A whole life.
Sleeping has nothing to do with it.

Epistemology jettisoned and if you wish, let there / not-there go, sky and river
will go, let people behave all the sharp, sudden ways Ute
speak, looking around and starting to rethink we’re
using our 1st language! Short iterations carry
the signs. Dreaming in bed deploys influence for output.
You can exit the field or not, burning at the mute
end then add features to nodules like in higher ed arts of philosophy.

Extraordinary poetry from Clark Coolidge and Tom Clark flowpress.org

There’s an Ivy component to our absorption of Munch.

Nothing concentrates like rulings about a Nordic weekend and its promise of a more palatable wardrobe. That’s if I’m hit by what I feel in the a.m. I believe in you. Evening you’re different.
You give me a musical temperature, a fine spray of marvels.
What are we fixing up? a few rounds of bluish vistas; for others there are many a soft whorl of moonlight over the lakefront.

Do I have a taste for disharmony and disproportionality? No, I elect to be ignorant.
I believe in undertones and the mimicking hidden force of gravity. You guys go ahead.


I’m going to walk away w/ Gil, that’s the best stunt.

You see, Gilbert Ryle asked (and asks), “might not every action or reaction be a piece of shamming?”

Something accrues.
It makes me happy. Was that supposed to happen?

Matins:
The Lord wait lists the system.

Can’t be sure there’s larger yield.

Notebook open, wallet shut,



Occam never multiplied.

Irony-sincerity voted
Thomas Eliot, a flashy

Society writer, a modernist. That chintz is lost ...

Can you take a seriously argued philosophical position and call it poetry decor? Yes.

Like our oath in a rustic wedding symphony:

Just before going thru with it, however, we started looking at the wedding gifts ..

A religion of dance sharpening endurance, risking focus..
Hermes masks, a precondition as two satyrid mayflies pop up, ones who advocate for peace. Their reputations recede but the fact of early apprehension holds way before guns were worn.

A double sonnet,
the letter posted at Astor Station
was written on a ‘pretty old’ computer,
he thought it’s written on maybe the very first
even before the
word computer or word processor was adopted for
that that he was writing on to respond
to an early poem,

which was not actually a poem but
a thought experiment taking place
in the mind of a writer,
slapping Helen over the interregnum
that hasn’t been thought of much less
re-invented yet.
The computer without a name (so far)
the one that may be the first or for
sure a prototype soldered
with tubes and distinguished by
a green glow above in a porthole,
not a porthole actually but there was
no easy word to come up with for
it seemed a screen back in the day,

still the computer was up
and running like a force on deck, a fox force
in process that figures it out,
tries most of the time, untold alphabets
(fewer numerics) to fill the porthole
with good gay letters and fulfilling idea plants.

To aggregate is to achieve. Afterward a file will result.
I am sick of academics or money majors telling poets
There’s deficiency of thought, of ideas.
All the same, this is the 2nd point.
The 1st is like the oboe in I. Got. You. “Tear up this page,”
Adorno says plain speech is a fair shake at fame.

When you put your money down
We can start from the beginning.
The rules commit us to collaborating, which turns to collective anger
Over language. But I’ve always been mad about something else.

For the love of three oranges I gave up jewelry.
Formalist cliché can inflect the neckline, yours or mine. I’d like your flask
were there an essay to forget this mess when we mask
how often Prokofiev was mentioned, only decades ago, violin jive
disproportionate to the vacant bits transcending the quintet itself.

Falsehood is an actuarial stat, one more subjective state, a quality of the frieze in progress, not an elevation or height.
This is a dance question. Fibber Perseus v radiator (Dana, his mom). Which are ya?
In one draft Perseus can see big futures, taller mouthpieces enter the salon [O flat major] rolled ‘into’ burbles, ‘into’ spools of Dana’s pedestrians sweating lead colors.

Eurozone class struggle is more slippery than ever. Or peach-dreamy. I’m not sure discourse product pertains. A shrine of axioms certifies wealth and income distribution, honing you / one into two dimensions on the surface.

I’m socialist by nature, maintaining perspective (the tatemae policy),
spooked while cashing in analytics
(lifting data, ripping them off) to mine parallelisms (partisan gold).


Atheism is otherwise the main event at the Hague. Secrets of satire want to float
free to find an informatics of doors opening (bassoon music) ...

The glue is “Token Austerity.”

— I see your potential; don’t wait to be huge. Time is temporary; eternity
Later.. it’s not much. Get your share, knocking the moment down with small talk, unscripted, unpredictable.

Though nebulae are curved and hollow,
The atmosphere squeaks common sense. We can’t feel it though its pace is emboldening dreams.

What hinges out?
Hop in, I’m a musician.

Cri d’un entraîneur de pomme de terre!

Dans le cas de cette pomme de terre, même si on trouve des tranches de moi au cours de vos opus,
sacrément tout sans blague c’est

(a) impressionnant! Le patineur est soi-disant sur une échelle pour « blather » ou des étoiles, peu importe ..
(b) mais lâchement, je ne suis presque gêné, je ne me soucie guère la façon dont le poète est formulée, est parlé de comme un outil pour juxtaposition, parataxe, tintement ..
(z) .. encore pourrions-nous sauter quelques couches, ainsi en quelques secondes ou pas, prêt ou pas, allons-nous faire de patin?

*

Cry of a coach potato!

In the case of this potato, to find slices of me over your opus,

is

(a) awesome, it’s soi-disant on a blather scale for
(b) I’m hardly embarrassed, hardly concerned how the poet gets framed a tool of parataxis.. juxtaposition.. tinnitus ..
(z) still.. let’s skip a few layers, ready?

Some standards.
Shined asides.

We pick the bests of show to set the timeframe for a prize bowl,
Really a vase,

Set it, let sunset pitch in its foam, declare
Poetry goes thru many drafts.

Like crustaceans we cave to forgetfulness.
Blinds drawn, our overly under-scavenged opacity overflows as we are grinches from the deep state screening off our comic pedigree.

Before that, looking far ahead was fantastic, a civilizing process added to eternal space
Filling our eyes with unmeasured disassociation.

I’ve always been mad about something else.

Everything’s trauma. (“Ego exists.”) Everything takes away from the center

O caught up in rule-governed mechanics!

Who is there to tell no one cares when no one does
You’re a mess, honey.
                                           — Touch of Evil

Something came up.

Little, no, nothing. There’s so small

an exchange to transact, no product, only

exhibitionist’s subtopics, within the power den,

proving repeated effort draws pleasure.

Our children hatched us, as the blur goes.
We’re trained in (bank) logos and several theologies,

Half as obvious as that degree you’re holding.
Hands down. Sleep then stand, take a verse, for

Sung language has a light vegan sexuality.

We chew to 1 side, noted by 3rd parties

Hanging out in unusual white corridors

Suggesting you’re still trembling, owing to


The chew off, just a short chopper ride

From the bank and trade. A vegan chew
With a so called mother gloss, 1st-
Order phenomena pitted together as cognates

Still coming to seed and adornment
(trade), inaudible ricochets feeding us

To remain disciplined on our new celestial motion weekend...
This calls for comfort and drill, “...habits of empire.”

Time for wine out of a box —
                                           *
                                                             Urban attitudes from La-Z-Boy.
*
A life is charged by the menu.

Occasionally you sleep, given immunity.

Not every detail is for a generalist’s eye; still I’m clueless about vertically integrated brinkmanship, skipping dinner, combing through motions and low pressure peeled back from almost getting

our tenuous, jutting fingers into and under the interstate that brings you and me home.

I don’t think life in the mind can be made up. I’m not worried it gets easier.

To tyranny,

I was thinking of god, the shoplifter energy ..
Hold on, I was handed this bag of sentences.
My views are not incompatible with yours, only there has to be a bagman lost orating toward torch bearing shadows —

And this is what I did not want to say.

Government is not that impregnable. The background is a colorful PROCESS shot. An athletic-to-pallid fraternity, mostly, locksteps for the hot scent, clothed in little that’s formal but a motive for eagerness. And they’re always wrong to prolong their appeal.

Anything Apollonian looks flab prone.
Capacious anxiety, yup, yup.
You can break the law to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
Either way will be a fractional infinite in the context / e.r.

In the large apothecary we call all infinite sets
Something is definitely going on.

Some lefties feel cornered (also conned) but
It’s still breathtaking to administer the right thing to do to you.

Entanglement:
Study Freud or any evolutionary researcher of the antic.
Stick with insoluble nonfiction, you’ll fall into a niche in 5 days
Blindfolded. (Our guarantee.)
Such brilliant dislocations are \ were expected; it goes
Beyond, there are dark, unknown predicates fixated on louder procedures

But in their giddy case procedures to see into a surfeit of space..
A sumptuous, soilless bond,

Angels.
*
Maybe it’s only words, assembly, to quote you.
They are real actors, not people.

Capitalist tactics are nothing at all, only sustained innovation in nowhere equivalent to —
Nah

all right, let’s start the open air in touch w/ no-thing. From the outside
the sky is in a square shape, bolted
w/ blips on a simplex-repetitive top layer, tethered for interpretation.
We’ll ingest all at once. Absolute-ly
blind tessellation, inflating while we data dive

exhaling the thing / no-thing problem activating our trial over the last half century.
W/ glass-and-steel additions for

investors, scientists working together.

I have been socialized as a hermit.
Wanting as well as having nothing
I shouldn’t ask did I live like that unknown fly on the wall?

I may be a fly but I hold surface depth! after all.
Self restraint & perverse incentives, an unknown future’s cart before
Facing great blasts of bruising air with less but more to live for.. scruples-less!
Fly teachers turn up with nutty stratagems, newer phenomena
To run over — any & all mayhem will be unannounced (achieved)
Or they don’t have to turn up since you and I talk thru flexible moods &

Already what we say takes us far from absurdist conspiracy! quelling fear of pain.
You never can tell. I won’t.

Putting it mildly in American English
There’s nothing like sex in real cities —
friends, enemies, especially enemies, and strangers, too, why not?
Let’s drop it down further.
Activate the spray clip-on:
Are we rocking like dropping your rags, breaking water gushing down over my heels?

Linguistic emblems, lyrical designs —
writing even a single line into poetry, you’ve reached nothing in between.
Nothing to uphold.
It x y =
It = There is payment to carry out, then if you agree,
incubate & go for offspring,
while we concede another solution to operate as if —

x = Don’t believe that, impetuously.

= = Neighbors have exited the dark,
laughing in the street and turning into sheet music
torn up to the sky and fluttering down
here, 1st. It took feeling wonderful or wonder at the start
and breakpoints, thinning out
obsequious, sharpened anomalies.

In simple physics all progress is ‘refined’ —

I just like this eco teabag, its anatomy rejecting isms off center, a central aggregate.
Do I
mean that?
Unfortunately, I’m afraid
I do, an idea from the roadside,
the central roadside that runs
alongside a central highway
that leads to one central point more influential than the others..

I have nothing better but pump out to its grasp.

I’ve been dating Mittens while I go thru assembly.
I give in to take you out, shake you tamed,

Dart —

From a long angle range,
some other time a lunatic pantomime rushes or could rush over, a dentist, to remove our tongues.
It seems a whiff pleasing since so logical a runner understood us at first.
So he must be stoppered.

So with much of medicine, a part
of the knowledge industry, along

w/ the expressions industry —
sap flows to festoon his roadblock!

Host to host software permeates poetry & yachting.
Wherever she roams..
Damn, can’t complain, when your children left
we had chipmunk..

A crane & white as air, a crossbill
tasted nah. We kept feasting for lifelong respect..

tho induced hunger paid, we find. We’re naked now
matching the flip flops we wear to whimsical chamber

concerts to measure others, to stroke our chins
for surplus power, when. When yes!

Before us, a few years ago
Philostratus put in a new transmission for song,

A Pythagorean feel there is a beginning, there is
an end, don’t fix it.

What time you think you have? Can it be simpler? watching you bathe w/in / or anyone bathe / n—
—ow in flinty daybreak synthetics, a blend of sepia on seraphic white...

More loiter, intent. Two smile, neither laugh. They’re wearing harnesses w/ panoptic properties extending their blood-pull orbit toward..
That’s about verse one.
Verse two. The future would give more and / or something missing only when staying was introduced, grief-stricken to answer one question.

I fought for you?

Favorite singers reradiate the calmative afterlife.
Learned consensus becomes early performance; both adolescent in a good sense, the deep pitch shows up invisibly, unspeakably, as libido constitutes a knowledge module, glistening aimlessly.

John Wieners, I use your toothbrush to wipe my beard.

Shortbread has some regions, ancestry
In brogues. So it’s really passing, nothing

And we have developed responses
.. untruthful automated Now Pro voices “that acquiesce on a positive note..”
This can’t be real, one doesn’t have to seem interesting. “No clouds, hi contrast,
Of little depth.” But that doesn’t sound bad. A narrow way / or

I’m captioning the fixed width to Now Pro today
Evolving in massive overuse. Hmm?

A few words on process: Counterfeiting
Is luckier than reading everything before it’s rooted in or out,

No sweat on attainment comes next, avail. in this new version of Recently Used
English to wish you any and all the full pleasure I withheld. Damn!

Paying attention is the field call haunting the future, skull,
More bounce for the retina to unscrew internal hysteria pouring up but
Embarrassing,

Losing both death and life —
You look how I feel.

No plan is perfect.

Like dozens of others spin
-ning opaque data sets, I’ll never make chicken
or any designated soup for you — I never make
chicken soup but if you needed me
to I would.
You come before vegetarian salvation.
I’ll never make
that either.

Sonnet to three:

I’m hoping nothing won’t happen. Duly of course sounded, I cover my throat. A few facts crowd around figures that are un-garbled when least derivative; ephemeral objective content triumphs. It’s kind of a snob racket. (C Bukowski)

We weren’t orphaned, we just decided to pursue other interests. Plus, it started again, as theory, pleasure is to ethics as the roundup waiting in any landscape, waiting for mistakes (1) and (2) jounce.

Spontaneity backs up position vectors.

Woe is paralytic. I don’t detect a drop of broad mindedness toward any arched dynamic or versions of it — better when and how you love or even when you nibblingly slobber over a numbed one’s body of rare happiness, feeling better. Hope of this implicit in the simplest rejoinder to the proudest to be stupid Dionysian.
Dionysian = could pull off brocade, puffy energy, cute, can’t think straight.

Lao Tzu (Zi): The follower’s flower name is hooded, part doodle & part I’m
                                        not sure there’s no use.

And how his confusion is a proof we can diffuse.

So I get the timing right away, it’s about a few seconds ago —

If he can or wants,
what you said is partner of it.

Nice, brushed off the immense highway.
A moth / its rule for flight is uniform.

It’s mostly a bolt out of cloth.
Never defined to dress code (practice).

Wind angles down, shaken nice.
It was nice
That changed a lot.

The questions are the same,
Em, I’ve misplaced em.

I’d like to reapply rules for a stretch w/in a finger painting
where we get dressed for the weekend.

Transparency on stilts w/ quarks and rare minerals that take on blackened
colors & Byronic properties of a nonprofit love nest
heated on sea plankton.
The jet gate opens to the drawing room,
once a factory made of the outdoors where snow & sunlight
close their distance. The old new & new strung out on sectionals,
an untapped kennel of oblique, puckish Swiss..

Just like other Europeans playing the stunt of delays between workplace & dogma,
anything everyone can live by w/out being
sequestered or brutally charged by objects :
so by these shortcomings we’ll softball in harmony
around some parts of sky & parts of parts.

It’s such nice work, a plain jug
schema proliferating jug fables
between acts of kindness & tragic themes
of incitements. Or was it just empty?

I’m just not finished, you pay.
We call soliloquy a-theoretical
since no one else is speaking.
The jug’s extending a hand, not audible —

Clouds part & it’s just a backstory
sulking in thoughts of jughead history
with a view toward tonal notes
that cannot be held in plain terms
until sophomore welterweights
rush in meanings of structure.

One followup.
Today everything I sculpt or shade is yours (mock ups / ruptured items / copy) or it was when we were in Tacoma picking up fun Japanese. An engineer described it as leaving gaps.

Light exchanged positions. Bitte.

As Isaac passes from consonance to desolated marsh,
walk along with me. / Where to?

To the battlefront. Nightly sex skyrockets (blasé for improvising
at first, then it coils & feels there are authentic possibilities) ..

I admire your parents (ghost punks), friends, enemies’ enemies, strangers, also ..

Charitable informatics is garbled when this derivative (Esau). Avoid rejecting
criticism, keep your smart bomb under wraps ..

(I forget hints of confrontation let these other voices barge in,
forward, back passing thru the 1st position
of the sprout.)
It’s written (odd, eh?) that was enough. O May!