There are three pleasure substitutes.
The frayed honeymoon is first and, second, it’s normative, blushing with its little chant of guts and neurons dying in a fascinating little bottle.

After a honeymoon deflections accrue. Third, there’s a genie that needs you.

151: Our berserk contacts squeeze topical structure into the gentle shadows that are too numb to know what conscience is.

We learnt lightly, love is too young. Yet triumph in love is slathered w/ axioms over the poor and excluded. Other memes are what we are deft w/. So the poor-excluded doesn’t count? I can’t tell, I wouldn’t know. Who does?
When instrumentalists and the proud struck their alliance, we thought this is a gross prize although our ultimatums were rephrased and moral aspirations became more footloose and empirically incontestable as Seven Bagatelles.

I’m dating other cast members while I go thru systems
as in your own speech act II.

We’ve gone over this.
You look great in text, available where I promise not to rewrite;
of course there’s a way unfolding to take you out, shake you tamed. Dart.

Sonnet 150:

Power to the powerful. A truism like this reminds me of a concept board from workshop, keeps going big. A simple turn of the ignition, what’s the deal? A journey within the 5th x nth element, becoming a pathless scrubland back at that bind when you and many are reading data beyond the point. All in an identical manner, everyone derives one message as sugar consumption rockets, news advances in choppy ‘prose.’
Would you like to ask questions or can it diagram its strength of skill?
It refused to come here deducing another head scene to make me love you, more like the first time. That’s in my mind ever since love’s regimen bulked up, corresponding with humanist competition for powerful excess, powerful perspective in every word mentioned or almost mentioned, and all syllables performing as one compass spin between you and others trained in your elite language. Who or what taught you?

her flak shirt was on inside-out and it’s entirely because it’s unexpected she had her languid hands up in the air, made eyeglasses with her fingers, meaning she was ready..

Space time. Slash pauses.
Totally never-in, our keyless Platonism won’t stand up as practice /
not while evangelized angles of light are making a fracas taking us home.
Vaccinated, a merciless itch, what is this collapsed satori we travel into?
/ Passing thought immortalizes the X+1 “casting
of cities,” thinking past us. A true 2 years B-4
messing with U. Why wait?

I say.

I say X.
X says thanks there’s so much.
*

Haiku-ing to Delmore Schwartz repeatedly gives me head.

We or most of us have a destiny, after all. But it’s after-hours

To vocalize what’s sunk in. I can’t worry or pierce my ears further.


When struck a lightning rod emits a ballet in dust and after that a solution, a chemical substance that recuses itself and returns as a cognitive coloration, a hint there is a small commotion in the back of something the matter. Like with one who is loved.

1st question, true or false. Is the last part ok? Technology keeps humming to Aristotelian extremes. The cigar and its plantations. It’s a manageable stretch from there to when you left, even while I ruled what went between us out. You hadn’t left a name, either. And yet, I stood closer, always wrong. To leverage and grow are businessspeak. To get feedback. To misunderstand.

Two or more are affianced to life / love in different ways, always murmuring to the lightning therefrom, and beyond.

Politics & the dignity of appearances don’t mix. (The financial & party pacs industry was just kidding.) Nothing personal, Trump is the sustained concussion version of civic charity... I also give a lily for what’s not available, a cabin in the launch for recondite sentiments, for the boink in whinnying for pleasure. Or I cry when it becomes fashionable.

Government is the economy. I credit everything from the engine without a message.

I’m late for my gown fitting, weeping on the inside. Outside, I’m late,

Impetuous, from costive stock, unflappably happy, brusque.



I floated here; my toys are asleep. I voted for the change.

Injecting their blood was just crazy but I won’t go off schedule.



Time now to stir this matter with a respondent gavel. And back to the bench.
Judgment is a big puzzlement of natural selection. Only the jury rises.

149: Cruelty goes by a few metaphors. Not loving you down the road.. going against myself.. soaked in a Mars invasion. 


Heavenly and new, classic and easy, unforgettable elements to our surrounding revenge for taking off, fawning over / upon you, quiet and respectful in everyday nudity. For nudity earned your just return, commanded by your eyes. It’s always a swing reunion in the ritual expanse, a whole new side of narrow and hollow at center, a vacuum in motion on wheels.

Informality — stress & refined inelegance.

Doo-wop’s creepy; let us through;


We’re sort of gifted — ok,

This is house arrest.

148: Cunning esthetic capitalism! it can whip you up, call you back to judgment ..

No correspondence how love is falsehood? love’s eye be true? —
I mistake fault in fair similes for love put in my head,
keeping blind to censures heaving below

— O me!

I question the following.
“Gogol, Nikolay Gogol, with an M.A. in these matters, says gut feeling, sane
behavior and noncriminal discourse teeter on the grotesque.” I still can’t turn that
down. Can I? Could he?

I turned and asked again.
It felt unwise.

142: Concision or hue dealing method, means
can be objective and lack pity, sin, hate.
To study rain,
an incident virtue unveiled as ambition. To study the eye

as a catamaran of process.. your eyes. This is while I love you, bond with you
as one ornament on a crazed errand-stream to a master of art.

I can’t be overdrawn, I still have cheques.

CVS counter. I know him, he knows me, I admire him, vice versa

.. sorry, I have no other associations I’ll add. I was going everywhere. Don’t know why we are in this automatic summation of now or that a minute from now after the transaction but before thinking about it, sending it over in my head, with only a few elements incised to form solid bands connected to CVS.

I’ve got a pet name for my tongue.

Surely as there’s a heartbeat in math there are light, oblique truths about achieving access to felt qualities.
We’re brusque. The new job title, urgent. More pets ahead of sober airedales w/ no clawback motives. But I’m underhanded getting back to an axiom we can manipulate;
no amnesty?
or / & like crustaceans we give in, to forgetfulness.

This takes place in a weather balloon holding beef jerky.

The jet gate opens to the drawing room, once a factory outdoors where snow & sunlight close their distance. The old new & new strung out on sectionals, an untapped atmosphere of oblique, puckish Swiss.. The Swiss playing the stunt of relays between workplace & dogma, everything everyone can live by w/out being sequestered or brutally charged by material objects : so by these shortcomings we softball in harmony around some parts of sky & parts of parts.

132: I’d like to bend rules for a stretch within a finger painting
where we get dressed soberly for a morning out west —
A place for mourning w/ subdued hearts and rare
minerals that become tree colors of the east

where a full star is ushered in by your grace in every part —
not half the sun nor half the glory to heaven
as those eyes become your face.

Sing
YOu defile my people once. Only once
expresses seeds in the mail ..

solutions to endnotes on drums.. & pity nowhere now w/
dark engendered powers @ 1% .. Cavaradossi!
We’ll misapply principals, w/ others,
the higher ones [Trained staff encourages sampling.

Any higher are not talking.
(There’s tighter discipline

Then repetitive motion goes too far
and some at all levels become enclosed]
climbing into casual ritual (putting
their lives together) & keeping order.)

Yamaguchi circulates the flowers — up to now they have many words for it

but it’s fielding skepticism that’s making money hard to borrow. Clenching-tight,
I’m in another century where hoax passes for coming near, too red-shifted by the viability of
conquering death with abundance, Yamaguchi says.
Wigs pick up, driftwood gets epigrammatic, upsides unrelated, pale, immaculate.
The sky has its style, subject for close attention. It’s said.

Paying attention is the field call to valuing the future. And the future notices who attends.

But it does not impinge on the field.

Each of us raises a leg. We like to comport with others. And we have developed responses
.. untruthful automated Pro voices “that acquiesce on a positive note..”

One doesn’t have to be interesting. “No clouds, hi contrast,
of little depth.” That doesn’t sound bad.

I’m captioning the fixed width to Pro “Token Austerity,
Sleep-laden, Eating Unnutritious Food.” Massive overuse,

you wore counterfeits and felt fake. I bet.
A few words on process: Counterfeiting
is luckier than needing everything before it’s rooted in or out.

No sweat. In this new version of Recently Used
English we delete any plagiarism still missing.

Guards stood tall in part over parcels. Now they tell me to take off my belt. Your belt.
My impression is each motion serves a purpose. A higher light according to utopians hoisted in the sky headed toward realpolitik under their own glare. Guards collapsing into supernumerary states of hemi-fusion, small adjustments in scales opposite a line-up of our unnumbered bodies. (2 or more.) Every dancer stops for a mote, a moment, feels better they tell me.
Then we yield to the rush of new people stage center, taking on our subject matter w/ a fire to clear few or no differences worth repeating.

Softly speaking, I thought of you.

Then we see a dart has feathers and it flies as it works the crowd.
And something came up. Initial elements were bled into overcherished ideals I thought you stored overseas — they were sent back in a screw-up, gleaming like oxide from my grandparents’ era. The real guys (grandparents w/ ideals) were thrown out before we got to know them.

I keep saying moral bases are gnarly. Any vantage you enjoy leads to ‘representative fantasy’ or one opposite, blocking the view, requiring accommodation to a time squeeze that looks perpetual, tho cyclical, rendering obstructions fluid occasions of conflict, occasions “not to love” (according to Wilhem and Baynes). But conflict is not merely evil if it lends focus on self-regard and moving on, collegiality. This is the potential utility of slanderers, a baseline annulled.

That said, it’s not likely anything not-said expands fields or roots underground.

69: Kind eyes are deeds.
Those parts of you in tongues could be simpler watching you bathe w/ in / n
ow crowned in tawny daybreak synthetic

other accents tint on seraphic white.

Both hearts can mend. Two more loiter, intent.
Both smile, neither laugh. They’re wearing harnesses w/ panoptic properties
extending their blood-pull orbit toward Pan?

That’s outward praise.

It’s snowing, nothing personal.
Further out clear descriptors peel off like spiders
descending, moaning nonentities (the Ralph Vaughn Williamses)

hustling all the time, awesome!

This is ur-autumn & with these Q-tips it’s free to cut nothing off.
Not even a con anarchist.
Under pre-season conditions, thoughts washed over time —
For starters: Do you test, lease, defame to get the best?

& the answer in a day wherever that is if ...
Is it time or times?

68: Flowers shorn off bowers of wholly living signs —
Composing around you, I’m a zealot about knowing when nature’s justice
with passion is vital, not recreational. For bell, orchestra, a map of nature’s store.

It’s October, Arvo Pärt is chafing: making no summer flowers, no 2nd life
& oblique as you — hours in fair defiance, antiquely credulous ultra-
unpolished release for subsiding in attrition, missing you, composing around you.

Your beauty.. new roses of yore..

Sonnet 3:

Fate looks at winter, gives up. Per Tarot.
Image & posterity aren’t everything. Same to dying. End Pisces & disdain.
Mark self-love as not an option. Stopped. & thru windows nearly your own age
April is renewing now another shower forming
Single light flows, “Could you be a little more specific, viewer?”
Fair April was in her prime, calling herself back, fond of repairing for rain
A face, an ear to be remembered.

Toward an ecology tho only six hours have gone by.
Of course the I-novel is sticky. The I here spent decades as a stealth pathologist dealing ‘live data.’

Poetry society for avant academics is like high school. I’d say a vocational high school where four or five kids can call the shots, socially. Current poetry society has its parallels. I call our society an avant vocational environment that has four or so top ‘kids’ but, unlike a bona fide school, these kids never graduate. The same folks have been in control for 30 — 40 years.

I came for the invoices.

Ever notice? No one lives in that town.

Half-vegetarian, self-colliding fog drinks only from its disconnected, treasured demographic for energy.
We cannot mean erasure, remember.
Our nerve infused by regulatory propriety until we get up to dance founding paradox.

Name a landscape and give birth, rename it and you bestow an ecology of resonance and history.

We’ve heard enough.

This is strictly the governor’s business.

You’re really this tall? There is no wrong answer. Your current voice sports a staggering pedigree, too late to make it sparse.

Even your restraint is watered. You’re too qualified and thrifty to feel anything suspended — Mayday!
You and Marisol, I told you I agree. Enjoy your revisionist’s timeshare, afterlife to the future, unobstructed, puckered in ab exercise.

I personally maintain a liberal, apolitical esthetic one more time.
The place is firmly democratized, sir. One beginning seemed and was
interpenetration among important parallel scenery et cetera running this.

Tomorrow will mete out facts to impel more comfortable indeterminacy — for now anxious telepaths, minus me, rush nimbus-wet in devotion to their next decimal of the property. This might be why we’ll read over the presentation, juggle a few heads

and let you know when.

7: Two very different outcomes equally square in middle age
What you hear with the apogee you are.
Young, I staked my reputation on it,
inscribing our illness, touting
you & kissed the air in your 1st mustache sense.

Stronger in a then-this-is-now domain,
mortal burning lips, brainy ellipses & a big hand!

I worked on this, from D.C.’s escorts: “You can change yourself into infinity, but still get the changes to the location from where you left...” That feels clear in a symbolic realm. It’s a higher amendment.

Again, I’m doing an accordion fold, a plu-code of the escort’s sensibility (as if I know what any 1 syllable of that means). Reverse stabbings thru-out, they concern writing and writing-2 who meet up in a fixed-action pattern within rational yet imprecise kairos, recycling once or twice.

There are episode interiors silhouetted in projections of analysis that screen the ‘official’ episode. However I believe we’re past the middle and nearing an end to 1; the outlines say there’s a Mammoth Double interior where writing adjusts to incidents of long division, complex facticity that writing-2 tears open and begins to pick at to pay writing off in disappointment, near failure — both writing and writing-2 climbing uphill and sliding back down just before turning 17, biting down, gritting their teeth, growing up.

There’s improvisatory depth to one surface and to their despairing perceptions of what won’t be retained, nothing prime to curate or disbelieve. Writing is a little wiped. So is writing-2. The drawing of the accordion frowning, ready to be seen. 2 is blabbing. Writing is a little fucked up too. “Just starting one.” “Cool.” The thing is not to get fucked up too often.

Teaching is something.

8: Music to hear sadly? Truth is we’re feathery.

Shorthand abstractions, unions married
like this mutual ordering to our touching and holding the moment,
surrounding it with speechless songs of taking off for the unknown, spinning, spun,

upset, out of control yet

that’s how we fasten music to hear to move around objects.

100% our touch.

9: No form of you
Feels anything but unused, average, a spent, destructive sort of guilt, blandness also a problem. 
 
Your world consumed by issueless fears in political experience / current status / win-loss =

Here I am! Staying single we may change our minds!
I almost forgot to. Permission to speak freely, señor? 
Could we? ah! you and I are loved by many. I’ll commit to that if you ... 
Are gracious, watched over and settled into a kindly almost unthrifty shifting  
Still, but still enjoying practice, wailing, banging triangles and drums ...
your private voice is wet like children’s eyes. Look. 

Then I wake [Ah!] — My own voice hoarsens  
A life desire talking with you,  
But no form of you. 

91: Who owns property, names, anything under formalism? Joy in birth,
in skill. We grew up 20th century, 100 years before joy in wealth
feels better in one general way, more than adjunct research suggests.

Killing love is of more delight than dreams of Lubitsch films

that don’t exist — here we go — they appreciate in value.

Coming back, back...
no..

No to measures of glyphic turmoil ground into a hound’s incision. No!
No contusion of the spheres, hawks or hounds.

The body’s force is treacherous. Owners on top, perpetrators make wretched victims of form.

Beside Panker observation tower, from which one can see in good weather the far over Baltic to Danemark, the Forestry House Hessen Stone lies.
In former times foresters got their Ausbesserungen with its sailors for a Senkrecht. From that foresters with sailors on Hessen Stone glow.

Today one can eat excellently and jazz friends here come also.

Rationed compliments ensue in secret and bloat under rush-formatted steam,
Accounting disappears like functions of context (procedures) —

Physicalism (neural meditation) adapts to amoral schemes
More fearless (less indiscernible) a cappella — Travel well.

90: Hate me now.
It’s up to pond structure to model passivity discharged by shore conditions. Only don’t drop in.

The pond holds scraps and parts of nesting authority, an after-loss. Rainy tomorrow. I join you to re-reference an arrow and bow made out of many purposed m.p.h. gusts — and this is my body as well — a priori nil in inner life razing names of sorrow.

80: …cross-pollination of English and psychology is providing a revitalizing lift. I’ll assume you suspect I faint when I write. Empiricists map it. It’s in the literature. When I write of you, I’m in sympathy and while I try a couple of poses from the repertoire of the defrocked — ha there are great, pure benefits sponsored by broad-shouldered believers afloat, grasping for governance, ocean wide! Wouldn’t you know they’re in an infinite series within the history of gossip. (Or from another angle they are the series, wracked by history.) You who.

I was going to say metabolically we’re all for one in suspension
of disbelief, a flipping out scene like martial arts, sparkling pen-


umbrae, a pro ring barnstorming on top
dicing / re-arranging pushed to extremes,
undanceable “fetishisizations” — yet we’re dancing.

Gastronomy is to breaking the ice as ‘fucking / sponginess’ is to bacchanals.

Are they saying the same thing? Chögyam Trungpa teaches First thought best thought; George Balanchine, Don’t think do. Both mean and don’t mean it. Put extremely, the meaning / meaningless exotica buries itself in application: a first thought in Trungpa’s belief is already broken in two; thinking (or not thinking), even (or especially) when it’s “first,” impedes being (and incidents not attached to being); while Balanchine wants physical movement to write over and above mental representation, yet one thinks on the way forward to execution. Both statements — first thought, don’t think — are similar examples of intuitive layers in which meaning deploys no meaning, slaying the butterfly native to these parts, reflection on and of opposite outcomes.

In descending order of indefensibility...



(a) Poetics is democracy.
Evasion in poetics, as in prose, foregrounds style, motive, subjects for close attention.

(b) Friendship is a job (like writing) and, more elevated, craft (signing). To illustrate, job is to craft as field praxis to theory that’s kicking a signing agency when the agent is down. Don’t get me wrong I think free speech is nominal. I’m for it and against impingement unless it hurts a friend (that’s down). What’s it? There’s no workaround to the observer influencing the observed except later, much later.

108: Admit you miss smoking gold.

You miss the first drag.

Have you read, teens get ten percent of their daily

Calories from soda & smoking. That’s how


They become bilingual.
Now. What’s new to speak..
The smoke takes you & him in stride
Among the underemployed in hyper décor —

Your glass is half full. You hair’s on the brink.
Your eyes fill with manpower.

Counting no old thing old,
Stay informal in no time. Yuy...

What now to register?
Stop waving that grape drink.

I stand for doing this.

103: Soak up the view. This could have been a sonnet all bare.
I never use that word now. Is it a place to barbecue?
In the better version by sonneteers pathos =
appropriating outsourced research, to argue


scopes of less (though) murmured coloration striving to amend;


no trust of ex intimates. All these added praise



achieving the overweight blunt invention
of the non willed state, an enlightened


legality in streamlined minds.

102: You’re the matter at hand merchandized within isomorphic rotations from green hues perpetual to earth.

You’re asking a lot.

Our love was new.
Well, most of these “pieces” are literal, based on trying to sit down [starting to sing] “Baby, you’re still the matter.”

The access air of inevitability around advanced codes shattered. I hold my tongue. Shattered seemed inauthentic in the first mustache sense. You are more than sex. You’re holding me, the middle of the throat..

I kiss the air. This.

Athens is the cradle of alpha reality, bank transfers,
Flames in pyres ordered smooth, unruffled for the taking.
Orthodox or not, prompted by your signature the light darkens. I hate Greece.
It’s official, we’re its colony.
Yah, U.S., #36, all time subservience.
(It’s not easy being special.)

As a classicist I plead guilty
Fidelity to Hera
And feel we’re forgiven for everything.

I come unannounced because I am socially awkward.
A line in a poem.

J parades toward emptiness in subrogation, embraces it to bring us back into space.
J is Kerouac.

A mood is an emotional state. Comcast Xfinity.

87: I’m sure I don’t deserve a king in sleep
but he rusts himself in, damnation de Faust!

He got in surrendering his fingerprints
humming to make a windfall. We


welcome anyone else holding more riches, more determinate judgment

w/in one’s center, letting misprision slide away.

*

Farewell, I’m lying. Part of what I do here. Throw up my hands! No matter..

Everywhere there’s fog in sky swerving off force fields I dislike, nowhere better!
No ripped off melancholy, no lecture / rap / blues, it’s taken none.

*

In not struggling with comparative vulnerability to vie for solitude, 
I pursued insight by your grant; for how do I hold you? That’s one for liberal arts. 
Secure oases cannot be considered in terms other than liberal; 
with great laughter impelling knowing, not knowing, comfortable indeterminacy. 

A given. Someday. 

Hi cute girl in black hat that works here, brief punches of copy look great. Works in evolutionary niche construction.
De-processing text in a wartime between paragraphs v bullets, guess who’s won?
Tiny, simple, the better to clobber you in short iterations. That ze plan. 

All of Holland Tunnel v one garish tulip brocaded with energy.

You are man-y crisp, a color too blush orange for anything that can happen if you pretend you care.

116: A {most- 
Ly random swagger for the catch) 
(Trained} staff encourage sampling  
Coerced by the life of the owner’s party speaking. Love is not love.

No, nothing concentrates like consecutive sentences about love then doom. That’s if I’m hit by what I feel in the a.m. I believe you. Evening you’re different.

You give me a musical temperature, a wandering marvel bears it out —

What are we fixing up? a few rounds of brief hours; for others there are weeks of soft alteration.

Love is no fool. It’s just goes off the boards, like when the water lilies kick off their work boots and women rule. Snipers crouch,

the edge of Burberry’s.

Capital is redeemable, all winds exchange directions and they’ll barely pertain, and why should they? What’s on our minds will be low on your mussed list, even lower than that. Off list.

119: Intimation, insinuation, innuendo.
It was something I ate.
Never believe quite a theory, never say it’s string conjecture (inauspicious aeon).
It costs a constellation or a bundle, false of heart.

*

I liked him and he liked me. I return again
Using fumy italics — fumy outside,
Different inside, just on my nerve, just to the time
Like him I leave for nothing.
Here take a wildflower. This is my house.

A monk will then say,


Tell us about your recent postal experience.

I was going to mail him
Though he died before I got to the office.
Like him I leave for nothing.

Juniper my ass.

I’m new to housecleaning with you.
That’s why we have 2 arrays for time & harmony
when doing it.

The ass comment — I meant juniper
within a philosophy (of moving spatial dimensions)
a few hours forward;

heated inference, compressed form, a ‘crown’ of contradictions
veer dimensional rhetoric
meh. Cosmos not not unhappy.

Can waving time like a moony branch
on a corporate tree supersede nature,
a piece of research asks. Why open

atoms under quiver at the edge to sleep?

In a way it just feels like games.
For more in bed we’ll wear tartans & paisley.

Here’s another centerpiece to explain how flowers are cut in plurals like progressions.

Iconoclasts count on progressions in a series, along with any allure of falling cornices
(they did).

Literally nothing is granted.
It’s a poem.
Now months later, it’s good news
Since you wait to listen, not empower others.

Everything belongs hiding in plain sight, fallen unhinged, no limits. True is
a point... an ornamental one; our brain / body fiber pierced 24/7, point b...

Terpsichore is still ascetic, improvisatory, sherbet hued like Erato, a voice of suspicion, hisses.

Song: Blushing is breaking news. 
One time I was inconsonant. Or.. 

I was found holding a grand lodge of doing-splits glossary.
— why 

Does a face arrest? 
You had on your fabulous eyeliner from a while ago. Cunning
Thing is everybody had it goes without saying a probability before 
The news 

And all of us now are blown up by
Getting wind of the Red Wings. 

Favorite singers reradiate the calmative afterlife attached to good sex.
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.

Bruise will stop by later. 

Don’t be afraid. 
Eh, if I could let myself go, fearless — living and bereaved like ruined plum.  
 
You’ve never been wild about old desire, but he’ll allege you go where you have to go.

— since we polished the text, handed it in, don’t expect me after all.

Even if we kiss later, it saddens one to inform the boss
You’re not serious, never are.

Like you we’re turning state’s evidence holding on to meet
                     even newer phenomena (‘stolen parts’
To run over) any & all mayhem coming unannounced (achieved)
Or some won’t since you and I separate thru flexible equations,

Already saying goodbye takes us far up the jet trail! quelling fear of want-
Ing pain. You never can tell. I won’t.

Pantoum: given a key, you lose it
  — shifting attention but staying in touch. 

I forget functioning ghost towns caked with tire tracks, 
I draw a blank on jailhouse interiors and decades of Tonka trucks 

[...there is no outside [...] only what’s already here [what we breathe] below,
which is 
Immature, impulsive...] [as above] 

— I forget empirical relationships the most, the visual force of 
                                       a “mottled taxonomy,” 

Complaints and sworn declarations, 
I forget meeting you. 

Sonnet 105: We express idolatry as a science. Fair, kind, true.

Amazing to meet you as well as science all in one. 



Amazing to touch your penumbra, feel influenced by funky themes, many songs. 



I was pleased you communicated thru love.
Take care, and take your time; 
likewise, inspire small talk between you 

while keeping the sum under surveillance. You look good together.

104: You’re good doing this. You have the motion. Just 
Report to command centers for the new pricing, unless  
 
Theft is looking better. Go. Fees balanced in the process 
 
After.. there are vector  
Utilities (direct flares) for expressing enzymes with your eyes.  
 
April Hessian perfume like axioms — cold pride 
 
You’ve already eaten.. had a bite. Of some. In June 
 
You turn coincidence into wailer muscle parrying  
 
You to hit the meaning of just whose future beauty came.

114: There’s señor that needs you. He has no interest in poetry. My eye wonders if that’s true; his best thoughts knit together like mica in kingly piles, shouts ricocheting through more than 1 voicetrack, lobbing pinned objects and underbrush until they’re scooped up holding our breath, beamed, kicked and gloved by catalysts. 

Crime: The noun to which much is given. 
Can you spot the q and a between shorelines?  
While in the time and motion garden, a parallel door banged thru the night.  
I hugged rugged trees in the upstart foreground, our encampment after  
Ridiculous, I guess.. juxtaposed, dative..  
 
Anglophone atonal fuzzy. It’s so. We know it when we hear it,  
 
Anacoluthon. 

While in the garden, the door banged shut.
Execution never gets cold. 

154: Look me in my hot desire brand, nymphs, I’m ruined once asleep. 

And so diagram conditions of heart-inflaming, touching both elbows behind your back — nymph.
Trompe l’oeil conditions I now know are approximating maiden hand abstractions. (Once cruel.. 

you know them thru an evolutionary pin drop) — We redact

mind / body worship. Physical practice was vicarious before conforming to a belief system. Or is 

It just the chaste remedy never cools? 

113 Status quo: The instant we select a rogue anime we also begin singing to ourselves,
deformed creatures, e.g. — Point: minus my heart.

Since I left you I’m partly blind I see you day and night. Point. It’s untrue

Clio strikes commanding octaves and sweetly favored rumors circulate. 
~ To my understanding it turns out effectually ~ 
sea crow or dove shapes impart their baroque-parody paying homage to the 
Subject. Point or object.

In some directions even the rudest go about their functions and get noticed.
Seems untrue.

There’s always looking out, up, through fitful silence & a sense of feeling cornered in music practice. Enough, enough men as well as women are resigned 

wherein their smirks press on — drizzle would hurt if they could hear but it’s only visible as a short, stout white truck rolls under the haze, Kia-like, choked in a soft, fluffy diorama. 

87: Sodajerks. Their stock was luminous. Possessing

That noun phrase furthered ambition (we’re sure it was theirs), amusing 
vim shaken from the inside. Each had a skeleton curse; growing
versed. (Youth, after all, is the determined object of love) an emotional matter
language models for 3 farewell in waking
then not knowing.

86 (Entanglement): 
Study Freud or any evolutionary researcher of the antic.  
 
Stick with insoluble nonfiction you’ll fall into a niche in 5 days  
Blindfolded. Astonished. (Our guarantee.) By night 
 
Too brilliant dislocations a\we\re expected; it goes  
Beyond, there are dark, affable predicates fixated on gulling maneuvers —  
 
Team spirit by spirits in their giddy case procedures to see into a surfeit of space,  
A sumptuous, soilless bond,  
 
Ghosts lacking matter, writing in silence. 

Gilbert Ryle asks, “might not every action or reaction be a piece of shamming?”


To throw out sleep, trust, and nimbus-wet telepathy — I’ll never feel his arms around me again. Never feel the air on my skin, or wake up in his warm bed, I’m done, I don’t get a chance to try again for anything, not even for something I’m not. I can’t do any better than what I’ve done. 

“Absolutely,” visiting professor I don’t know her last name will reply, if asked.

76: In flight, the framework gets told in the telling. 
How can varsity spend their tribute, spent? Why? 
 
This café, I think, is going to answer that & help the weather from getting lost.  
I know the frame craves attention, that’s why I write of you.  
Why I finish a stretch and lines get confused, showing their birth. Fuse the way  
they  
 
Continue. My argument.

Frame: A diminished mood will be buoyed by scatterings of photos and books, many unread. Cast more atextual sources as fodder for your new faculties for text, new ontological components for bringing up temp and humidity composing, as well as subprocesses harder to isolate and observe as they flood into short term memory. Keep the fed in balance for two (or three, as many as you like). Liberal arts breaks further from esthetic scholasticism, inventing new suppositions for research and intimacy. After government, wiry empirical jolts, semblances that comprise enmeshments in a readymade mood and control structure parallel to voc ed for poetics; appliance hint: metronome. 

I am is still here, the body’s purring could not be put off. (One dissipates the other.) And one sorority reviews egg whites in their spare, bubbly zeal to outpace an apparatus (not properly issued to commentary). 
*  
Wrong. Constantly wrong is correct once an hour if you’re a minute hand person. (Seriously? But what is identity.)
[...can’t stop it...through  
language [going in] [out...]  cheesy time lapses in which [animating backward]  speech & narrative continuity become incrementally  
transformed into deep structure affixing Old Norse phonemes to nonobserving verbs. ]   
Now my head is cleared.   
 
Still if we had grounds I’d subside higher up having you weed out caution.   
 
I call this leaving you. 

73: One who will die isn’t perverse; it’s that time of year when one adheres to so few notes.
I’m leaving disjunction behind. T o work with you (the plan) is one way to avoid subjectivity tho over here there are yellow leaves, late birds, seeming content, consumed with what must expire.

Content is a nominal fallacy like that bondage alloy. I understand I don’t understand the glowing of such fire, the twilight of such a day, etc.  Holism doesn’t come naturally (Nickolas Christakis). Yet the parts know how to grow (Benjamin Aranda). 

All this repetition is not good ahead of patterned, glimmering haze surrounding the powerful, dating them, finally; you know, the level of glamorous self regard goes high. If all we do is seduce and note conquests, we lose. We lose austere joys, cloud dogma, sculpture perpetrated out of wire in scentless comfort, winter is coming skies. Scentless discomfort, too. 

63: Hours..drain..blood. Something came up. 

As I am now, Max Planck fellows run off with radical research incentives for a frontier in unboundedness that is vanishing: Organized treasure in a small package, tethered particle immolation. The dignity of boson appearances, confounding cruelty and love, alike, uncut from memory.  With little or no motive, the sky foregrounds their styles, stealing them all away. 

You’re a mess, honey. 
                                              — Touch of Evil 

Something came up. 

Little or no, nothing. There’s so small 

an exchange to transact, no product, only 

an exhibitionist’s subtopic within the power den, 

to prove repeated effort protracts pleasure. 

The reunion is off.
A spotlight called.

Lots of us are gifts 
and land across our example  
while we watch the wind taken  
that the waves under you lift  
Tho see-thru as doves  
which today are nothing more,  
swept with a visual certainty  
no matter how we change in love.

We’re trained in several logos and theologies; 
 
Hey it’s obvious as that degree you’re holding.  
Hands down.  
 
Sung language has a light vegan sexuality — 
 
Take a verse.  

We chew to 1 side, noted by 3rd parties  


Hanging out in their unusual white corridors  

Suggesting you’re still trembling from the  
 


Chew off .. just a short chopper ride  

From the bank and trade. It’s vegan  
With a so called mother gloss, 1st-  
Order phenomena pitted together as cognates  
 
Still coming to seed and adornment,  
Half-audible ricochets seeding us like a lawn. 

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

we had called gateways where wealth is wed (by the dooryard) 
to far correlates, aspect 2, inventing a new intelligence of largess. 

The third part I guess is our resolve that comes in processing integuments, 
weekly tea, investigative retailing.. 

Here’s our take on never getting back together. It’s another part 
to tensive healing (a method) stitched to transparency (washes of shadow) 
in compliance w/ odds off bets already placed... wherein 
musical notes conflict w/ breakfast & rubbery clouds, a proverbial laugh: 

Nobody totally killed it. Until you. The docents were untouched. 

The estate repaired to is only offered 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.. 

62: A painting of sin beaten —

I can say we pushed it out willingly (nurture, nature, frantic leisure). 
All my heart the fit was good. My age, your every part.
I noticed my self-love work under you to make your poise smoke 
w/ the problem being. 

54: You’re back! we cave wantonly to your fairer virtue (in our forgetfulness). 
O wooed rose!

Before they show, like you, ornaments far ahead were of dark matter, masked buds that distill a civilizing beauty added to eternal space 

Filling our eyes with unmeasured disassociation. 

I have aged for you. You may have noticed I’m on the side of folding in meaning that has no purpose, just sheer falsetto. 
 
You want in? Try eye accessing cues, carve out what rafter was last seen strapped at the top. A name for emphasis might be imagined.  
 
A serious pronominal.  
There’s a discontinuous method to share.  
There is an automated palletizer of bread  
With industrial KUKA robots in a bakery  
In Germany where groove is so a verb.  
 
An odd relay plants these thoughts.  
 
We don’t do pinpricks, I’m told. I did my research.  
Since I’m not adding bespoke grammar to anguish,  
This would be a special offer, today only.  
Anyway, I retract my falsehoods. 

Suspend suspension..

Our hesitance to go there is weather related warmth riding in and a similar sauna of fog out, darkness offshore the day before. 
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. 

53: A substance note:
Suspend suspension of all kinds of illusion — 

Nebulae. Curved and hollowed. 

You have some part
shadow as long as a 
-utomatism maintains a
low balance outdoors, our counterfeit value evolving in shades that a
-mount to zero after your beauty, a 
constant show and a 
variable either way. 

This is a short study. Or it was. Youth is so impressionable. 
Ultra blurry, anamorphic, bound movement sung by writing it occurs in the latest form of repayment,  
 
— you  
weigh nothing in and get no credit, no  
spectral, tiny swaggering to cash in.  
 
There’s a substitution agreement containing someone else  
                                                                                 and me in force, pulled on from inside.  
 
— oh yeah, pulled awake more than once w/ a face of a poet. Or a filled out line. Or lines. Smiling lessons. 

Blackened windows: 
We know we don’t know 
Facts are a marketplace, 
A rendezvous to encapsulate sleights of tongue. 

In Japan they have I-novels, sticky variations on Euro-American models. The I-novel cantilevers inside without. A flood of phone calls offers ‘relationships.’ No time for that. 
 
The I is like everyone else in Japan, boasting bragging rights for having interesting things to read, packs of old love notes, crayoning hearts and drunken smiley faces, pledging boundless love.  
 
Of course the I-novel is sticky. The I here spent decades as a stealth pathologist dealing ‘live data.’ Subjects mostly sat up straight on futons, an assembly of pulverized dots — big, jaunty dots that gather at will to darken world markets, ducking your punch and closing the distance.

*
Someday all this will be yours. A few
City blocks that lean socialist, an oblique, neat,
Untapped atmosphere w/ corners of slovenly
Housekeeping and, worse, earnest alignment,
Reading strung out everywhere and living
Chronologically simulate the senses; these new scents
Went in circles as tho undressing.. sidestepping
Into some prowess of floating un uniquely, unquietly, new —

As a rule any attempt to hold forth is off topic.  
  
The sun shines larger. We rely,   
really like your ideas. / O    
  
It’s such nice work, any idea   
with its schema proliferates —  
  
I’m still not finished, you pay.   
We call soliloquy theoretical   
since there’s no one else speaking.   
The idea she’s extended is not audible —   
it’s just a backstory in a way   
sulking inside these rooms — 

28: I lost track of our last banter. 
How can I return then? debarred, oppressed.. not eased by night. 
Enemies shake hands to torture — stronger grief. No rest. 
 
The community’s been repurposed by consent. I can tell a long river dries  
because of science. The rich (not advancement) won.

Websites lie. This a translation lesson. I’m elegant and round. I can’t snicker. You can though. ### I’m off the wall. So I turn blue when I cool up. I blast by myself when you leave for work. When you come home I produce a mental readout of how long it takes you to set the new temp, humidity tolerance and so. ### I can’t snicker I’m elegant and round with a mirror finish.

Sonnet 26: A life is charged by the menu. It’s duty so great
Occasionally you sleep, given immunity, I hope. 
My thought is tottered, all naked.

All details are lacking for a generalist’s eye, wanting words to show me worthy. And I’m clueless about vertically integrated brinkmanship. Conceits in that field are deliberately made up to look made up, to look as if we need a hand 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 only of moving points. I’m not worried it gets easier.

24: This is color: Q-tips & smoke. Good turns. Painter can pick you up, take a day off 
                                     from where everyone who’s still standing is drawn to your shape,
eyes for eyes, physical & prime for the stress of form relays between a rat race 
                                     & cunning security IF
  Painter’s 3-D models have your body frame & everyone else’s Painter can gaze on w/, w/out you. 

23: My agent is a penis. Imperfect
actor. Its shortcomings balloon in ‘harmony’ & w/ use 

— where my epistemology scampers in transparent secrecy 
abundance weakens w/ fierce ideas to leverage your heart in the pluperfect. 

My mien adheres to an expressed rule staying purposely 
dull, entered into by going your way first. It’s 

clear refinement where character offers libation, 
supports your tantrums from underneath. I can go right in. 

It would be a challenge to simplify winning as in a new car or suffering injury, 
Starving how?  
 
You’re at the door  
 
As I thought of you.  
 
A delay for  
 
More. 

— you mentioned erring out  
 
For tax purposes as love will suggest —  
Kudos for some thanks!  
Your iron determination is magnetic.  
 
I’m solving you for new parity  
W/ the scum of the peninsula. 

I see your inside voice, binary to binary autosuggestion.  
When it gets dark it happens fast.  
 
We wanted to go to  
 
This point, stabilizing the office — over the ocean 
W/out ‘water- or personal-contact.’ 

32: You’re reserved from outdoors, Psyche, for his love
Exempts us from showing up to enchain, knife, subdue.. 
That’s before reaching heights of happier men.
Satie playing, giving away what we’re good at 
— gosh a population for tears forms in cozy brothels. 
A class struggle thinking it’s for real. 

The struggle, not the tears. 

39: How absence, our thought of it, only hints at torment. Separation seemed brilliant manners far back, unremembered before now. Its worth oblique, divided but pointedly, singly alive. 
 
One difference, the better part changes — I praise you at the gate praising him.   
Soon after, I’ll heap more praise due you while we lose names over another difference, mine to mine. We went into this.   
 
Even divided we live to entertain. And even for this it’s still a question. I dream w/ you.. as you prove.

It began as parallel ideas. 
I was saying Harry Partch’s gadgets and impulse intersect  
An immersive ocular apparatus, thumping  
W/ the capacity to recognize infinite series  
As a glow that’s cool and regular. 

Living somewhat left of Unitarian 
 
(Japanese cranes)  
 
it’s impossible to separate churning out understatement from the performance; both are adolescent in a good sense, pitch. So that’s how the cave and landscape felt. Next, a full database advanced by a minimalist method, burning out your swing meeting half-death in no way hapless, sensing no value contingent; partly insight, partly rot. 

This is my 1st stab at tantrics, 
boiling sanguine, sad going through her pinafore of latitudes, so  
vet them.  
Perfect, she doesn’t see we’re drawing from other traces  
and no matter. 

36: Let me confess I sign off on others’ labor — 
A newspaper edition, documentary remnants, penetrable databases —  
 
We occupy this clever, conceptual nook, curling up, thinking up ...
At times siding with the powerful seems deliberate as well as passive-aggressive, love’s public effect, blots of respect for labor.  
I’m kidding. I’m staying sarcastic — unironically. Anxious pleasures bearing pleasurable anxiety, repeating ...

There’s audible glee not being perennially the other and oppressed;  
the oppressed are what we avoid where or when we can be free  
 
on the outside, in place of a natural voice a bouquet smolders  
w/ the emancipatory normality of assumed dominance.  
 
In better Prada, distorting the status-quo on otherworldly streets:  
“Where are we going?” This or that way. I guess  
so. Not particularly.  
Those who still insist on fighting state power, let alone directly taking it over, are immediately accused of being stuck in the ‘old paradigm’: the task today is to resist state power by withdrawing from its scope, subtracting oneself from it, creating new spaces outside its control.   
 
— Savoj Žižek 

A nonreligion of men, a High Service
Sung along both coasts:

Our people are what makes us / great.
Love and heritage go down together.

The last nonpoem eases the dress code, a bolo tie display on 2 thru 8
For a race of giants (giants are made up pieces of one another in other names).

Love came up short for a few and drove them to forgery. And shatters.
The taking of whatever works to swat the hand that feeds them,

Sharpening endurance,
Risking focus.

Solitary dark
                          the air pushes..aside 
 
— tilting your head with no untoward parts, transfixed silhouette 
— the Demon Puff in his plumage / language.  
 
I was hit in the face when he turned himself in.  
 
I knew and now know I am unhappy and, like most everyone, not —  

the boat’s cortex holding out .. 

Naval voices wake me up. 
It’s too embarrassing 

pulsing in a deep mirror, 
light snow performing butoh. 

(Ethical and mammalian boundaries pertain.) 

I’ll put it this way and be done.
I misfiled your core principles, went 
for higher ones in baroque-neurotic sleep. 

Any higher, they’re not talking ..
(there’s tighter discipline) 

Highly apéritif, 
morally camouflaged cold indirection 

But our metabolism really took off, along 
with raw emotions from a huge manuscript 
I’m freezing, since 

It’s none of the above. 

* 
1) 

Read Ashbery from the back forward: Defense owns — there seem — accents — these: 
reticence such on put days, our 
moving and light, puzzling in place 
of morning winter smiles .. a chorus 

Emerges which on canvas .. 
noises w/ filled already silence .. 
*

Dear October looking like January, 
I went to your reading dreaming of cutting out. I thought I went outside  
and cried. Nerves. I need a new sum of things, just remembered.  

A heart shaped culinary distaste holding   
my tongue on the verge of resisting you, thanks to notes of civet and benzoin.  
 
In the right daylight, polygamy twitching inside a church, acquainted with men’s affairs —   
“In each house a different white hall, adapted to sever the head   
from the vines.” That’s an odd thing   
to say, are you in or out?   
 
Another thing, I want all the pillars and vines shaken. 

Two decades earlier I loved your mother and father.

I digress: I’ve got your back that’s looking deep and allowing, pleasant.
Parable: It’s nice to be interrupted thrice.

*
2) Here’s a proposition. Start over. Compelling work toasts knowledge construction — in plain speak — as well as finds, explains & reforms infinitesimal times-spaces. Your optimism is required (a) to keep everything open for reform; (b) to understand we are beginning the work, always.
*

Let’s put this less sophomorically.
Basically existence precedes essence asleep on the leaf. Mostly.
Any steel door opens. Here are the last letters of bliss.
(We best defer to the series to differentiate ourselves.)

Deep blues and silvers with biological shades to form vowels;
Consonants have already taken shape from older models.

This organizes five minutes infinitely without saying bless your heart.

Literally nothing is granted, nowhere, no why, no how.
 
There’s another centerpiece to explain how flowers are cut as progressions. 

Iconoclasts count them in a series, along with any allure of falling cornices. 

They did (in plurals). 

Now months later, it’s good news 
Since you wait for new word, not empower others. 

Everything belongs hiding in plain sight, on the ground, no hinge, 
Ornamental to a point... our brain / body fiber pierced 24/7, point two... to start, 
Terpsicore is ascetic, improvisatory, sherbet hued like Erato, a voice of suspicion, hisses. 

Damn, dancing, can’t complain, when your children
left we had chipmunk..

Next to nothing, and a white winged crossbill
went berserk, wet bubbles.

The chandeliers giggle a little.

26: In our heart of hearts, lord, we’re wading out to meta-trigonometries .. 
I’m wanting respect, witness to a natural moon shining
its belle-lettrist metamorphoses, moving sweet points
over the slip, damning loose ends even with fairer aspects, so great a duty 
but giving wind sheer every opportunity  
.. to let us go. On.  
Up. Now. 
Prove me yours.

A {most- 
Ly random swagger for the catch) 
(Trained} staff encourage sampling  
Coerced by the life of the owner’s party speaking. 

Our last owner had an understanding with multiple staff. 
His happiness washes up in our candy bar and cudgel DNA.  
O we celebrated, beaten but breathing in what’s next.  
We have a most advanced gene distribution system.  
 
Try to look better. 

Flames stink up the place. Hay on fire. Let’s dump all this way in the rearview where we can’t see, leaving footholds in town, doubles of blurs in dizzy luxury, punching thru colorless straw and spheres. 

Hay savors just punishment! as regulatory propriety could and does care less, looking to nominal trivia thru guilt to found paradox — exactly what we reject or recoil from, summoning logical defenses to explain a Hail Mary pass or your first entertaining entertainment. 

Mary, our neighbors are inflamed all right, imbibers of the heterodox polemicist’s code. 
Silly, wily, superficially yours, we have other ideas. 

Playing hockey, any one team can lose
Yet we always won, until Vietnam, fair, square, smoking. 
Cupid’s appeal? Head-on appeal is stark 
for pacifist taste. Here, that’s speaking practically 
just as shoulders tilt 
half a second, the long answer’s in his moves hanging around the goal
you can scream, open and enjoy. 

I don’t know. Yes. Details collect. It’s a mad softness where 
we’re going over one part, step after Santa Claus step 
as mating instruction and human rights. 

Cupid is a hired gun who goes anywhere. Cupid’s id? It’s a violent,
smoking culture so we need straight talk. 
 
It’s a gay culture so we need that. We’ve been up  
for two centuries fighting overseas.  
Head-on war is a mistake (Diane di Prima). 

I’m pegging Seth MacFarlane Aegean-ward. There’s so much history, 

Shadow sensory awareness, his chosen medium,  
 
Flowers are em-poisoned by design, grateful waiters oozin’ adrenaline  
 
  to an audience of Schuberts, lecturers, saboteurs of the heart,  
 
sons, daughters in search and rescue to catch every misconception lean ’n low.  
Yet our bipolar mess words are set on war cry, plain  
holy shit! 
 
w/ a headless figure hammering out Bo Diddley. Panning back to lend bulk. 

Sonnet: It’s irreparable. 

But it’s in the repair shop because  
It is the repair shop.

31: You remind me of lovers gone. A morning crew, weathermen 
Waving arms over their heads in all naked patterns — 
This is their 1st stab at tantrics, due of many now.
They merit love trophies — now yours alone,

Tears hiding in view of you, in you
Disguised as glare removed from coastal space. 

For all appearances nothing lurid was due at signing. Default 
Swaps in reconnaissance at the barricades live — 
 
You appear ok. Lie. This was about something else. Love,  
 
Never weep with your pant legs up, banker,  
 
Since footwear permeates antinomy, buried love  
 
Finally & meantime — your new agent’s housewarming runs on   
 
(blanched) curtains along w/ sliders showing movement hidden in you inside —   
 
Trolls at the barricades have been taking icky notes as the weather cooperates,   
 
Where reputations precede character, tact of apprehension remains.   
 
Who will advocate for peace w/ all tranquil to empower mergers & exchange?   
For example. 

A bright spot on the game horizon, we’re beginning to see a need for a blanket authority or foundation to issue antinomian licenses. A nondemocratic institution that constitutes only one of a set to which no democratic or parliamentarian voice matters, no second thoughts, no heuristics, and in which nothing un-elfin or hurtful belongs or stays put, holding ourselves to the test doctrine of multiple shots at Todd’s Miniature Golf. 

Creature masks are prerequisites, in reprieve at the School of Nobody ; 
Teaching can’t be taught. You live within practice 

To engage another’s psyche. 
—  You’re always wrong to prolong your appeal. 

What’s this eyebrow to?  Eyebrows pile up like the snow of socks before a sit-down inside the capitol. * What’s this eyebrow to?  To ask fobs off any acute particularity. It’s the bright intern on the bicycle in a parking lot nowhere close. Please applaud. Left brow fuzz so sudsy it can be substantiated, born by epochs of parallel scenery. 

154: During the break we reached an agreement,   
so the ham’s anger has hatched.. while his endurance and ours  
enable the passing tourney (tense Fu owners)   
to nuance emotions for the 3-in-1 innocents to proceed.    
  
Heart asleep, little love, I remember looking up at you, at —   
ahem — feeling an urgency in ideas taking heat. Women, men:   
Legions warmed living in a debt growing city state. Maximum restraint   
= get it done and so don’t talk to me.   
  
Pumped with mandatory inflows of feel-   
oops, they’re metering to block counterfeiters’   
hen of steam: From which, from art of algorithms, all   
Personnel will have to be shifted or fired,   
coming to work anyway, achieving a remedy, seemly 
bliss of the non-willed state, enlightened but as it is, lacking need. 

I am confused, 
claimant of the photogenic vitamin to stop bleeding  
is not a complete thought, lacking, useless settling in 
meaning in a way — a rain and raincoat of moods, one’s thank you for pastimes 
as warm-bodied as visually queuing up for everything. 

So you get it now, assigning completion to us to go cathartic 
is no yes vending graft about dualism 
with hand and finger gestures where we get caught chatting. 

Once your public is mounted you can add your own awesome content! 
Your first lover.  
 
He could heal you thru.  
Then forces of narrative come seething, your breath fixed   
 
to the floor as it circles midair as if it had a right to. 
Also we see our ETA.  
We won’t be a second late — your ex boyfriends  
understand we can meet seeing you.  
 
That’s the gist. 

152: Selfportrait in loving you with hedge clippers, fighting blood sugar. 
[RNA follows commands. It’s a collective.] 
I remember this thru 3rd parties, their deep kindness. 

Sunrise. Whose-ever rhyming system — Uhmmms calls up oblong homonyms, 

Playing back strings to pop songs — the things they see..
[Earle Brown in the audio ground..] 
And to enlighten you and me I’m

Mashing oaths of love into phosphate tads, keep-saking ourselves. 

146: I’m talking to you in American. 
 
Christ is missing. No more dying then? Not going to lie to you, I watched us dream economics feeding, painting a radius, destabilizing temperament like small worms eating up the soul. A body loss. Looters and rhombus-gatherers, all doing well respectively — great work, cuts straight through its own restructure creating more chopping patterns to abandon.  
The chips mount a background to soundtracks muting key words. Entire sectors of us feel it’s about time, so short a lease, epic sums on new slender gloss. The walkway and manly instrumentation  
 
are redone in full combat. Let’s wonder about tidbits of hyper-literal churning depth. (It might be feminists who went on genome probation.)  
 
This is that world’s decision theory now selling hours of dross.  
(Ideologues always get stuck on the last lines.) 

After glamour there’s power. The virus is already inside us, wo-  
lfed down improv crap, we’re pre-wired or is there a fee? 
Radiance now is the lather of swing. Remember deliverance?  
 
“What if it doesn’t work. Then what?”  
Anytime and place of our choosing: Act gathered. 

And here gear management inserted a bonus to exchange and not so bad — 
a physical act of fondness that can only end in a draw sustained one by one  
getting up, stretching for an hour. 

The float seems to learn fever can be unwelcome overnight: 
“The float is radiant, jammed with radiant things,” had 
 
Simon Schama anticipated, not long ago, “but no, had I been  
eloquent as to the fair, to the bright we’d need no caption.”  
 
The float throughout anticipated that base point ..  
What does there’s still a move to go do?  
Keep nursing desire past cure — a psychic point or three feeding the appetite to please. 

Monkish antinomy left the office to 1/2 
-center on taking off for pinier points, points to please death, love,
                    desperate even dying.
My 3-D models are you & everything else I can be w/ w/out you if
You left me at random past care. 

This dawns on me once
Before blasted onward, discourse & chaos go hand in hand, utterly psychic as we are
— having seen it, married it earlier

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

My love as a fever costume, stretched black poplin, black as hell in a trance. 

134: Knocked up by surety and apparatus, unattainable vote totals involve usurer intrigue, bromance, equipage of the half-taught or self-illumined. An inured slice of childhood domains all to use another time. Back in time.
So now and then I liked primary grades more. Later, in romantic couplets, one confessed breathing up, swollen within a radiant distance — lost, wearing nothing but motives for aching to do what we were afraid to be? So he’s yours?

I’ll sue you for disrespect, covetous of my comfort, a friend, my couplet. I lived your peach flash thru witless dialectic. I drank your Labrador tea. And for doctoral research I took up free, motorized speech. 

I don’t worry or pierce my ears further. 

I see your idea. Gnarly aviation. 

Purity on the surface deed’s recorded, perked into light 

                                       handily. 

Private property struts, wound up slugged from penmanship, 

A ’contract’ in big physics, ghastly on its back. 
There’s envy of haters’ swimming synchronized, beyond prayer — 
With or without ebon ink global capitalists itemize all bets. 

One pleasure is borrowing sentences to raise our debits. 

All experience is seriously correct.. How to win.

All experience is seriously correct.. 
But what is?   
How can it if I tell you what I’m?   
 
I’m in no hurry. A life was charged  
now curled up on the menu.  
 
(Have to go.)  
 
There I’m preaching to your eyebrows.  
(Cave safely.) 

That slap in the face harder to explain now — a waste..
 
Traffic jammed under the apartments — tropic action — 
A cruel lemon sliver caught in my nose, past reason,  
Tangy..  
Romeo and Eurydice. Just a wedge. 

Dutch people go Dutch. I go along. 
I’ve moved to the Delft coast, Rijswijkse Waterweg, dunes of Irontown, because my ideal climax is at the salt edge, just across from Spread Eagle where I’ve bagged the dainty, ultra built new guy who lives at the priest’s house, along with the priest’s teen sons.  
 
[Very few priests hereabouts.]

120: En route to password assistance, astronomical, infinitesimal amounts are rounded off as unsolved, unkind problems, compelling work that front-load knowledge construction, like finding a bowl of light to explain & reform a void bow of times-spaces. 
 
Sure or no, my deepest sense certainly.  
Yes, attempts to throw your voice are dumb & of a special force   
 
— I suffered in your crime — 
Over the unknown risks. As first-time infringers we don’t mushroom,  
Ignored. But we seem hellbent when three or more reach assistance,  

So we need oversight. 

Sonnet 119:
Software permeates adolescent philosophy. This hell points to asphalt perimeters where error messages inspect structures (applying fears to hopes)

building up un-manacled distraction so amor in the head is amazing, far greater madder fever!

Some ways syzygy rounds this off in latinate — evil still made better — for amnesia’s fixed width, blessed never, rebuked to my heart’s content. 

And ruined we were losing heart .. still spent, shaken tame. 

Do you like spiral staircases that strive to branch to an adder’s sense? Mark how tho none alive? 
Facts are a marketplace; figures look good when least derivative. Volatile objective content triumphs. Right or wrong it’s kind of a snob racket (Charles B).  
 
It’s profound and prefigured... mark how the Frankfurt School’s defenders get nested within the keyboard to flatter contingent values within partitas along with trios and quartets for others’ voices from inventory.  
 
Our nervous system can distort music abysmally, Charles might say, to emphasize changes in radial evil neglected by the super ego. B is for Bukowski. 

Trust an old memory, 
 
Corporate design is a full-length mink coat.  
 
I have nothing else to wear.  
Ounce by carbon resin ounce native fluency may be floatable within, once regarded in this wholeness w/ contours beeped forward, smart enough tho meaner beyond these whereabouts.  
 
Its whereabouts on loud speaker as it were, the workspace, the top percents of it, can hear,
feel its sweet succinct stages striking noon after dark. 

How it may happen
On a highway, gentle police lights 
— Luxury vans flow in aid. Further uphill 
Hauling “rays of light that seethe patently” — Stolen beauty does he give!
He can afford it.

A ray’s lip, your lip, curls in his record performance /
Your opinion / position counts, a worthy argument
Made easier — you take the wheel, 
Officer. I’ll hand it to you & have your way — 

Then thank him —
There’s due process replicating our facial 
Comfort in raw sick push-pulls .. 

Touching on another behavior in a wily, rough 
Translation .. (desultorily sexual of us) to read on, reread 
Brutality extending crust to your cheek by jowl for the nth call; 
More intuition — “rhymed” with your near-virginity beneath disappearing 

Molecular 
Effects. 

Simple truth, our work out here begins to spin. Like the blind we are tongue tied by authorities to wiretap secrets weighing nothing in, no credit, no ripped off melancholy, nothing but misplaced honor with a substitution agreement containing you and the other you in force, pulled from inside.. 
 
Can we cut to the scary part?  
Relax, beware, the law of cause and effect can be obscured as traffic aims straight at you and the other you. The business end.. we enjoy since sleeping on it applies love alone to our flesh as well as controls our skills. 

Sonnet 4:
We wake up, cartoon-lean. Inconceivable, forms of address change ideology into overwrought subject matter while a service industry shows up to clear things w/ the bosses. Those days were unthrifty loveliness. In graduate courses we taught the integral self can level w/ all the others, an acceptable audit, and sadness is a public health problem, a sum of sums. So protesters are hired to hunt down incriminating thoughts and, being frank, raise contentment rates. 

An access prose for pathways folds into dreams. What’s the point? tho, unless we’re feeling it, noun phrases are [void] all we’re leaving at the door, now personally ajar, since we’d like to see or set up a space to witness the dissolved thread to narrative, its needle and as it were a point given you to give. 

5:

No remembrance. Of course I did time as a stealth pathologist performing autopsies on people who lost their show. Subjects were mostly strung out on sofa sectionals — big, jaunty shapes who swaddled their inner pooch / pooches — yes I’ll love you better with frost and lusty! —
I’d say I am a pervert approaching you as a woman / who is a man thinking she’s he of the pulverized dots — a liquid prisoner

— I duck their punch however and close the distance. Nothing more.

What about fabulous machinations to pull off another scandal to influence comment? 
Visceral, intellectual? Dopey red (Perseus) v. sociopathic radiation (his mom).  Vaunted in sap, complexities debate the high surface where the stars in secret inform a young writer:  
 
Find yourself with someone brave-headed for a new decraese... try an elision with young clowns, inconstant, non mimetic v. those mouth-piecing others’ ideas (wearing sweat colors).  
 
If I join you now we might invert informally. Married, selfsame unmarried. 

After lovemaking, performance.

48:

One only care

I save where you are not tho I feel you are.

2. This is tomorrow before the cart. 
The vapor all for it, both arms. We see
Your candidates constitute the unmarried Non-Group playing a best-of-vulgar,
Long shot in a ritual for a prize for outlasting how nice that would be. 

57:

Being your flute, your slave, what should I do?
I wasn’t just orphaned, I pursued other interests
Until you required me to get curtains with sliders
showing our absence of move ment from the inside, just another ... 
... I question my jealousy

— (where you may be you get no credit for this) — 

O sad slave in dark briefs! 
It’s taken this long to read the gospel of wealth. 
I’m still describing opéra moaning about diffusion at any stitched cost to render your mouth a sobbing mess that goes on being. Happy you. This is adieu for you now. 

May I point to patter the rain stopped, actually making money
For the good of drenched flesh and musicians outdoors.
Just just 
Our soaking up to our ears emphasize changes in 3 dimensions, I’m almost sure 
Worth repeating. 

Here it comes. Sometimes later.
Bandits 1st. 
You translators are a close 2nd. 

We appear ordinary. This is almost about something else. 

Then I repeated if I were you I’m about all I should have — 

Docile or not, 
Look away.
Blatantly un-shipshape-careless seems the new daring..  
I have no idea —   
The bemused, deliberate downgrading of the presidency  
More than fair warning.  
We should seek co-equals now, an engaged handshake, clear speech   
To thank the whole body electorate,  
So we learn that or relearn it. 

& so. I guess I’m ready, off

that ground by that I prove:

1. Love my god heart inflaming new fire. Let’s call this unconnected 

whilst it’s a cool, well, a coincidence I went to golf school. 

2. Hot desire this time — no cure, it’s the growing part to the beginning for men if 

outside reflects a seething harbor, one of many & many nymphs. 

One’s guard is up for trial. I’ll keep going? he calls..
3. Free days are an ellipsis.. 
That’s since a remedy dataset appreciates & values others alive at our point of origin. Both eyes grip the perpetuity they celebrate within distortions of consciousness.. thus love, your love, heats water inside each word touched on or nearly mentioned. All syllables performing as in one spun ‘Cupid’ between you & me & others laid by his side training in golf. 

Prelude: Two loves had swing — 
The scandal passed, hardly worth the coverage,  
otherwise comfort and despair, excellent. You saw that?   
 
I got back into the van to be a devil.   
 
*  
 
All experience for wooing is seriously correct..  
Still how can it be effortless if I tell you what I’m doing?   
 
Do you own your swarm’s jackets? It seems relevant  
being both from me and going to a rock heist band,   
 
I guess “Suspect I May,” say;  
her jaw trembled  
 
while they played One Angel in one another’s hell. 

Sonnet 135
for John

To commune sounds spacious, un-calm, bent to boot. In the same call you vex prerogatives, that is, your voice does. (I’ll table the large difference.)
“The sea.. all water”

— Your message is mixed but never better aligned for a way or a will of mine. We’re rich together in our acceptance — this will be our hideout, learning the ropes, perusing scraps and hopes of coping.

The unoccupied mind long overdue. The you

I reference in primary season. With your suitcase.

I’ll pack for the gracious aftershock of your going ahead, reading, lifting, adding and reflective or reflecting? you in the foreground, all water.

I’d like to overview the specifics.
Prefiguring feels forever.

Core descriptions updated, untitled. You’re dead.

Later sir and I went to the movies. Wasted time.
I was wearing the shorter 
autumn outfit again. I got it down in 

the bus terminal, 
a master installation 
by itself. 

Fair illustrator. Killer. I’m otherwise kind of a coffee head. Question.. 
Have we ever done anything but toy with the true weather? Oh, who knows? Oh, fair Ladytron. You know, you seem so fake-excited in your periphery, kind of staying inside a soft radical anathemic vapor, loosely true 
 
Yet demolished. Ergo your discourse comes down as animated routines. No personality.  
Going back, favoring a fair objective   
 
Boy-girl, your kind is in a chess game.  
I’m going to castle you. We are..   
 
Shall I mark you as another true ambition  
in an illustrator’s incident layers, 3 in 1 —  
 
Having what you’re having, sorting the dots’  
 
Congeries of texture? I turned and we asked again.  
(It felt unwise.)

After you, a burst of daft tone substitutes for info. 
Wait. There’s nothing.  

I lower your voice to closest saturnal parity  
plucked of adversative brutality ..  
Yet nothing is forbidden.  
Finalists like you quit general practice — off to privacy  
with little or no honor system. And yet not you, your honor...

Summer’s actuaries record having a good time as vicarious, no
moving stone. Vicarious isn’t strong   enough.
Inner, outer merge in our honor system, no shadows, o praise the light flow drawn  
in odor and hue. After you.