Guess what, there’s a thru-the-night ring when a section tumbles out of mind, leaving a hole
open to irresolution,
fingers suspended, door ajar.
Once you really had us. I was choked up by your running off almost in a sidle. I told you we agreed a little but not a lot. The plotting — lackluster — I hope you’re coming back for some things you need to follow up, us.
At least there was a chance for that and that was in this new section for a while. I forget thinking like this lets counselor affidation barge in, forward and backward passing thru the 1st position of pleasure lost.
Monday, December 30, 2019
Traffic turns reflect the city.
Making a turn, heads in the clouds is too liberal. Our head guards are up. I’ll keep going.
Why make so much of political origin or lab blue Audis here, only a few bird enthusiasts or their fragile ambiguity?
To respond is the payload we’ll steer home.
How do corollaries threaten an antecedant on so and so page?
There’s dumb honor mining homilies and off-color
copy, imitating / replicating Dionysius for the evening drive.
Making a turn, heads in the clouds is too liberal. Our head guards are up. I’ll keep going.
Why make so much of political origin or lab blue Audis here, only a few bird enthusiasts or their fragile ambiguity?
To respond is the payload we’ll steer home.
How do corollaries threaten an antecedant on so and so page?
There’s dumb honor mining homilies and off-color
copy, imitating / replicating Dionysius for the evening drive.
Sunday, December 29, 2019
One of these days..
I don’t think so ..
Nothing new. A feeling continues you could write until you drop ...
a feeling from here buried below any animation.
The half familiar I’d like to pull off,
replacing that half with reflection and
silence, an ensemble for stripping down to not talking.
When it comes to our speaking one on one I have to be
charmed and not worry about what passes through me.
Me, of course, is an expansive subset of charm, a trinket I believe.
I don’t think so ..
Nothing new. A feeling continues you could write until you drop ...
a feeling from here buried below any animation.
The half familiar I’d like to pull off,
replacing that half with reflection and
silence, an ensemble for stripping down to not talking.
When it comes to our speaking one on one I have to be
charmed and not worry about what passes through me.
Me, of course, is an expansive subset of charm, a trinket I believe.
Friday, December 27, 2019
A poet’s prose nails her reputation time and again. Elizabeth Bishop, James Schuyler, Edwin Denby, to speak of the dead. Are we examining a ‘real’ voice, or are we merely more at home with the subject-verb-object flow of normalized speech? When Gertrude Stein adopted plainer or more standard prose for Autobiography she became a pop sensation: “she took Alice’s voice, her acerbic, lucid style, her declarative sentences, malicious asides, quirky jokes and regular punctuation” (Diana Souhami). Is that it? we can more readily stay with sentences even when they’re overstuffed (say, with personality) so long as they are conventional, making sense, well punctuated?
A portrait should be backdrop in this. That one of you in the back. Undressed — except for slacks — bordering annonymous yet ungeneric like Updike. Look me in the eye and diagram conditions of spatial sentences (touching both elbows behind your back —
Not out of caution) — I now know this will be ok
I find it too tempting, untested, untried, nothing better within its reach. It = your grasp, my central aggregate.
Not out of caution) — I now know this will be ok
I find it too tempting, untested, untried, nothing better within its reach. It = your grasp, my central aggregate.
Thursday, December 26, 2019
1 enclosure with no pulpit, without dogma...
breezeways to enter then exit self sponsorships
spreading out in willful overloads of language design —
Skilled decor de-simplified as notional contracts
in contretemps between science and who knew?
ironic technologies without precedent —
Surely even as there is a corporate hold across manners
and adaptations, there’ll be curricula restraining praxis
and workbooks in hermetic syntax.
Nice beachfront but there are fewer
and fewer bonds with semiotics doubting itself (if only a little) —
it seems immaterial — immaterial, 1 of those 2-headed enigmas :
nothing much and — hey! — metaphysical.
An eerie self-eating metamorphosis.
breezeways to enter then exit self sponsorships
spreading out in willful overloads of language design —
Skilled decor de-simplified as notional contracts
in contretemps between science and who knew?
ironic technologies without precedent —
Surely even as there is a corporate hold across manners
and adaptations, there’ll be curricula restraining praxis
and workbooks in hermetic syntax.
Nice beachfront but there are fewer
and fewer bonds with semiotics doubting itself (if only a little) —
it seems immaterial — immaterial, 1 of those 2-headed enigmas :
nothing much and — hey! — metaphysical.
An eerie self-eating metamorphosis.
2 quests.. Just who are we to say we should attend to what I am doing? It’s love like ours that pitches English to prioritized claims.
In modern tongues, a truly socialist government is not that hot.
Wearing nothing but pilates for motives, eager too,
Mixing shy and rabbity, squeaking in biblical
French — it’s just plain meaner. And we negotiate euros (cash) for rapprochement.
In modern tongues, a truly socialist government is not that hot.
Wearing nothing but pilates for motives, eager too,
Mixing shy and rabbity, squeaking in biblical
French — it’s just plain meaner. And we negotiate euros (cash) for rapprochement.
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
A sparrow close-range, a dedicated follower,
packing a double voice range, gets into love trouble,
last blinded by the sea only tonight, this evening of the seals.
Two old seals suddenly lift in a renown wave, the same
in each. Humming back, large as the beach
staring away at the first light.
When the light goes there are too many weighted ways around.
It goes for gladness reasons. No
one you know, seals go too, mourning their orchard rounds.
packing a double voice range, gets into love trouble,
last blinded by the sea only tonight, this evening of the seals.
Two old seals suddenly lift in a renown wave, the same
in each. Humming back, large as the beach
staring away at the first light.
When the light goes there are too many weighted ways around.
It goes for gladness reasons. No
one you know, seals go too, mourning their orchard rounds.
Starred Wire
Ange Mlinko
Coffee House Press
Ange Mlinko monitors weather, follows people, abides children, walks in gardens, takes in architecture, monuments, libraries and brownstones, reads in cartography, genealogy, and travels. Jeepers. I’m seeing epiphenomena here. I hesitate to say I don’t believe in ghosts, unless they’re a "bear hug of smog” or “beans infusing the cream,” as Mlinko wills it. And before Starred Wire I hadn’t imagined that a mix of imaginary landscapes and brisk realism, typical only of Elizabeth Bishop, previously, could be pulled off these days (2005), finically, urbanely, that is, with requisite erudition cavorting against chiffon-like strokes of a painter’s light, as in “Everything's Carousing”: “Even the Baroque get lost in it. / Grass vests the dirt lest wind, twanging the skyscrapers // that merely sleeve the elevators, as we go sleeveless / except for the atmosphere, file it under ‘oceans.’”
As Bishop had her New York moments, her “Varick Street,” her Brooklyn “cloud of fiery pale chemicals,” Mlinko has Dear Soho, Riverside Park, a “Secret Chelsea,” yet Mlinko is entirely tuned to New York pacings and sensual logics. This is never more so than when Mlinko speaks of other places like Boston (her former hometown as well as Bishop’s): “Venice must be like Boston, on the water / north of things’ center…" She advises, “One can make the room of coincidences the bedroom” which she assumes is “Like that secret rose garden at Harvard” (Radcliffe, actually). More urgent, the New York qualities we most could do with suffuse this poetry: the worldly reference — “Boolean chastity,” "Taoist gestational how-tos”; the crazed simile -- “The winter trees look like Catherine Deneuve”; and the nuttier conceit -- “You’d have to hair-spray a dragonfly / on its way to the Faerie Queene”; along with the crucial, appositional everyday data reminiscent of NY’s first generation -- “Logs are crossed in the fireplace. / The casserole is put out on the porch to freeze. // They invite me to sniff the new freesia body bath set. // ...The subdivisions age.”
I return to Bishop, though, to underscore Mlinko’s world-centered, life-transformative accomplishments. Early poems of Bishop’s were marked by non-soporific, precisely illustrated reversals of figures and facts, a “Man-Moth” whose shadow “is only as big as his hat,” vistas turned upside down “Sleeping on the Ceiling” and “Sleeping Standing Up,” a preference for the iceberg with “correct elliptics” over the tour boat. Mlinko similarly arbitrates between ghoulish realia and imagined alternatives, recognizing, “I could...be original every time, for the conversions / that inspiration is. A phantom face value haunts me, / but the inverted library; candles at the bottom of the pool; / these are the ghosts of the glass house designed / to be invisible in a wilderness…" Mlinko adds, simply, “life is a thesis,” and she seems almost to mean it. It’s a set of theses, down-to-earth, which she also calls dreams where “there is communication between interior and exterior, as they say of labyrinths.” She traipses through all these “adult doldrums” despite a “cortical wrinkle” or two, “cognomens spilled from burlesques” and “the slumber of driving,” because, among other secrets, she knows the difference between “Transformation vs. Encryption,” between “false rich and the false poor,” between socialism “on the firing line” and socialism “on the railroad rainbow,” a practical acknowledgement, in short, of “a glow on the horizon / that is also my sunburn…it's too late to be meteoric, silly.”
There are several poems without precedent, even as they pick up theses from elsewhere in the book. “The Intrigues” is one instance. I have already cited some of its text (“phantom face value...in a wilderness”). The poem accelerates with prime mergers of metaphysical and practical inversions, “shadows feint across paths fallen trees.” Here Mlinko reaches semantic dissonance of a tall order. “If it is spiritual to have applications to make, / dogs patterning imprimatur, let flowers grow always in defiles / gluing flame to flame…" These words are part of another transformation in which “thinking the landscape...is the true outside.” Enough is omitted to beg for greater “relations in light patterns,” the design that is unseen but implicit in the pressed horn and brake of “spiritual” and “imprimatur.” Rather than attempting a language that is more knowing, Mlinko leaves the full figure out, only to assert her applications toward its end and a “nicer noise.” Her aim is modest and affirmative, to see “a kind of painting / different ways around the park,” bleaching and blurring with life, “not to be trapped in a dream.” This is said as Mlinko raises the taboo word, “ghost.” She observes that the ghost “goes about with a movie / playing on the underside of my umbrella” as it “devolves into dew blobs and whispers / of the lawyers…" Returning to the lawyers conquers the problem of gravity and of taboo, an unfeigned way of sharing a life of different ways around it all.
Ange Mlinko
Coffee House Press
Ange Mlinko monitors weather, follows people, abides children, walks in gardens, takes in architecture, monuments, libraries and brownstones, reads in cartography, genealogy, and travels. Jeepers. I’m seeing epiphenomena here. I hesitate to say I don’t believe in ghosts, unless they’re a "bear hug of smog” or “beans infusing the cream,” as Mlinko wills it. And before Starred Wire I hadn’t imagined that a mix of imaginary landscapes and brisk realism, typical only of Elizabeth Bishop, previously, could be pulled off these days (2005), finically, urbanely, that is, with requisite erudition cavorting against chiffon-like strokes of a painter’s light, as in “Everything's Carousing”: “Even the Baroque get lost in it. / Grass vests the dirt lest wind, twanging the skyscrapers // that merely sleeve the elevators, as we go sleeveless / except for the atmosphere, file it under ‘oceans.’”
As Bishop had her New York moments, her “Varick Street,” her Brooklyn “cloud of fiery pale chemicals,” Mlinko has Dear Soho, Riverside Park, a “Secret Chelsea,” yet Mlinko is entirely tuned to New York pacings and sensual logics. This is never more so than when Mlinko speaks of other places like Boston (her former hometown as well as Bishop’s): “Venice must be like Boston, on the water / north of things’ center…" She advises, “One can make the room of coincidences the bedroom” which she assumes is “Like that secret rose garden at Harvard” (Radcliffe, actually). More urgent, the New York qualities we most could do with suffuse this poetry: the worldly reference — “Boolean chastity,” "Taoist gestational how-tos”; the crazed simile -- “The winter trees look like Catherine Deneuve”; and the nuttier conceit -- “You’d have to hair-spray a dragonfly / on its way to the Faerie Queene”; along with the crucial, appositional everyday data reminiscent of NY’s first generation -- “Logs are crossed in the fireplace. / The casserole is put out on the porch to freeze. // They invite me to sniff the new freesia body bath set. // ...The subdivisions age.”
I return to Bishop, though, to underscore Mlinko’s world-centered, life-transformative accomplishments. Early poems of Bishop’s were marked by non-soporific, precisely illustrated reversals of figures and facts, a “Man-Moth” whose shadow “is only as big as his hat,” vistas turned upside down “Sleeping on the Ceiling” and “Sleeping Standing Up,” a preference for the iceberg with “correct elliptics” over the tour boat. Mlinko similarly arbitrates between ghoulish realia and imagined alternatives, recognizing, “I could...be original every time, for the conversions / that inspiration is. A phantom face value haunts me, / but the inverted library; candles at the bottom of the pool; / these are the ghosts of the glass house designed / to be invisible in a wilderness…" Mlinko adds, simply, “life is a thesis,” and she seems almost to mean it. It’s a set of theses, down-to-earth, which she also calls dreams where “there is communication between interior and exterior, as they say of labyrinths.” She traipses through all these “adult doldrums” despite a “cortical wrinkle” or two, “cognomens spilled from burlesques” and “the slumber of driving,” because, among other secrets, she knows the difference between “Transformation vs. Encryption,” between “false rich and the false poor,” between socialism “on the firing line” and socialism “on the railroad rainbow,” a practical acknowledgement, in short, of “a glow on the horizon / that is also my sunburn…it's too late to be meteoric, silly.”
There are several poems without precedent, even as they pick up theses from elsewhere in the book. “The Intrigues” is one instance. I have already cited some of its text (“phantom face value...in a wilderness”). The poem accelerates with prime mergers of metaphysical and practical inversions, “shadows feint across paths fallen trees.” Here Mlinko reaches semantic dissonance of a tall order. “If it is spiritual to have applications to make, / dogs patterning imprimatur, let flowers grow always in defiles / gluing flame to flame…" These words are part of another transformation in which “thinking the landscape...is the true outside.” Enough is omitted to beg for greater “relations in light patterns,” the design that is unseen but implicit in the pressed horn and brake of “spiritual” and “imprimatur.” Rather than attempting a language that is more knowing, Mlinko leaves the full figure out, only to assert her applications toward its end and a “nicer noise.” Her aim is modest and affirmative, to see “a kind of painting / different ways around the park,” bleaching and blurring with life, “not to be trapped in a dream.” This is said as Mlinko raises the taboo word, “ghost.” She observes that the ghost “goes about with a movie / playing on the underside of my umbrella” as it “devolves into dew blobs and whispers / of the lawyers…" Returning to the lawyers conquers the problem of gravity and of taboo, an unfeigned way of sharing a life of different ways around it all.
Changed my mind.. Nobody can help us shorten the learning curve.
You’re always not talking. I get your point (noncommittal without the tedium of argument).
So I turn blue when I cool. I blast up by myself when you leave. And when you come back I produce a mental readout of how long it takes you to set the temperature, lighting and so on.
I can’t snicker, I’m elegant and round with a mirror finish.
The American Songbook has mirrors, motors for luscious hills, gleaming grains.
Apparatchik Bukowski’s fall is a warning, hissable, gone monochrome in uglified loveliness besieged by entertainment.
You’re always not talking. I get your point (noncommittal without the tedium of argument).
So I turn blue when I cool. I blast up by myself when you leave. And when you come back I produce a mental readout of how long it takes you to set the temperature, lighting and so on.
I can’t snicker, I’m elegant and round with a mirror finish.
The American Songbook has mirrors, motors for luscious hills, gleaming grains.
Apparatchik Bukowski’s fall is a warning, hissable, gone monochrome in uglified loveliness besieged by entertainment.
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
It was a sober intro
A branch could be a sentence generally. There’s urgency in ideas o et cetera.
I live in a debt growing compound and now
A level over! The et cetera of murder and hate
not enough? — are you suggesting I send for some?
I put my finger back: Not really, she said out
ahead of how I was supposed to know.
I’m addicted to ideas.
This was my first time.
A branch could be a sentence generally. There’s urgency in ideas o et cetera.
I live in a debt growing compound and now
A level over! The et cetera of murder and hate
not enough? — are you suggesting I send for some?
I put my finger back: Not really, she said out
ahead of how I was supposed to know.
I’m addicted to ideas.
This was my first time.
In evolution we may have had an identity crisis
when who knows how they’re doing this
on our agenda? Near the teary top we crate
handiwork, cover it with a power tarp, drain it of weight.
Moss alive! I could lose another i.d. if any of this touches either of us. Or ours.
I used to have a power dependency that’s reasonable to regret.
I think it’s polite to say ‘power,’ not ‘ostentatious pensiveness for hours.’
when who knows how they’re doing this
on our agenda? Near the teary top we crate
handiwork, cover it with a power tarp, drain it of weight.
Moss alive! I could lose another i.d. if any of this touches either of us. Or ours.
I used to have a power dependency that’s reasonable to regret.
I think it’s polite to say ‘power,’ not ‘ostentatious pensiveness for hours.’
We have our own gangs because I relish lyricism mounting a central stairway. T suggests a quick detour. A couple pass. There’s been vintage aversion, around a corner sirens and haters. Sunshine starts to feel like a slap in the face. Milling around is jammed.
I’d be lying if I said you and I had no prankster tendencies.
Tossing water balloons across the typing pool ..
the pool is empty now.
For you, learning about how to learn is important — playskills you need when you buckle under sportswriting. Yes, fan, you sick typist-inside.
You and I are followers, waking in hazy brightness and .. apologies for blunt geometric scrims..
Wait — I get wind in the space of a game day .. followers like us can be transformed! views down hallways into stairs cut apart and fronted with music of our choosing and making.
One apiece.
I’d be lying if I said you and I had no prankster tendencies.
Tossing water balloons across the typing pool ..
the pool is empty now.
For you, learning about how to learn is important — playskills you need when you buckle under sportswriting. Yes, fan, you sick typist-inside.
You and I are followers, waking in hazy brightness and .. apologies for blunt geometric scrims..
Wait — I get wind in the space of a game day .. followers like us can be transformed! views down hallways into stairs cut apart and fronted with music of our choosing and making.
One apiece.
Keep secrets of teleportation to float free.
Free momentarily. Here or there are volatility models according to script, vocalism in a sense. We’re beaming them down along with all their reflexes including known and hidden risks — a fat chance shifting their weight brings in a slimmer recovery.
Past is no guarantee of future thrum and harder rumble, hey and whoa, how awful, how much do we exercise to take on compulsory selfies? I can’t get into specifics, because it’s too verbal a compromise. I know I’m next, I’m flapping my arms in front of me.
After that I run after you
thinking what a complete idiot. I am.
Free momentarily. Here or there are volatility models according to script, vocalism in a sense. We’re beaming them down along with all their reflexes including known and hidden risks — a fat chance shifting their weight brings in a slimmer recovery.
Past is no guarantee of future thrum and harder rumble, hey and whoa, how awful, how much do we exercise to take on compulsory selfies? I can’t get into specifics, because it’s too verbal a compromise. I know I’m next, I’m flapping my arms in front of me.
After that I run after you
thinking what a complete idiot. I am.
There are no new recipes for disaster.
For molecular life, this is well understood, unspoken
mostly, but how was I supposed to know? I put my
finger in there — this was the first time — “Great.
I’ll just hold your thumbs.
Down.”
It was maybe a couple of weeks later I remembered, “I
feel like burning myself.”
Yes, elf.
No aplomb in nature, please. No
Living truly among ilks of valid scouring colloids — simple?
No mimic measure, no ceremony swats from
“plinthing a drumbeat,”
also.
For molecular life, this is well understood, unspoken
mostly, but how was I supposed to know? I put my
finger in there — this was the first time — “Great.
I’ll just hold your thumbs.
Down.”
It was maybe a couple of weeks later I remembered, “I
feel like burning myself.”
Yes, elf.
No aplomb in nature, please. No
Living truly among ilks of valid scouring colloids — simple?
No mimic measure, no ceremony swats from
“plinthing a drumbeat,”
also.
A gentle love’s spilling bourbon over my a-line, all thumbs to keep our game up & running. Likewise I’ll write about it. As poet / jewel thief wearing a dress, I might think it profitable to string my sentences together just like paste rubies & artificial pearls deliberately mismatched as in the déshabillé of John Waters’ suburban flats, adroitly inexpensive & passé. Each sentence would go on to shine in gloom as ends won’t match up with beginnings, not quite, each sparkle dulled into an afterthought containing falsehoods but cinched by faintly plausible, recognizable style — sparkle double-dulled-down as I drape my next dress over bowls of Chesapeake crabs & rat traps, a near accident or an accident-in-the-making.
Monday, December 23, 2019
I’ll do what I can. It wears on me.
Smothered abstractions take time. Another day, slim odds. Almost hopeless, yet different jokes turn over in sleep, dreams that forgive me for killing the moment. Yet paranoia’s belated audition traps me if I let go while not assuming authority.
Evasion tho provides an advanced style, state-of-art restraint — the harsh gets exaggerated.
One more day to recover your losses mid-grin.
Smothered abstractions take time. Another day, slim odds. Almost hopeless, yet different jokes turn over in sleep, dreams that forgive me for killing the moment. Yet paranoia’s belated audition traps me if I let go while not assuming authority.
Evasion tho provides an advanced style, state-of-art restraint — the harsh gets exaggerated.
One more day to recover your losses mid-grin.
A beautiful writer is stunning, front and center. When
distracted, s/he hears “Continue − to enter the contest area − Continue.”
Some say, not going to lie, both of us botched a radius of this, destabilizing
‘oppositional’ temperament. On our side, we’re doing well, considering.
To consider the green wooded radius is greater work, cuts straight
through any restructure, throwing out hyper-nonliteral depth w/ gutsy,
landscapist abandon.
The budget cuts (last line) are background to double-rhymed ambient scores.
Entire sectors feel it’s the end of capital, epic sums expended in slender
career arcs.
The floodgates and instrumentation get redone for full
combat. We wonder about other churning bits of our lifeline. It might be some
freedoms are on probation ...
according to decision theory now. / Not only for continuing,
the problem has been how.
distracted, s/he hears “Continue − to enter the contest area − Continue.”
Some say, not going to lie, both of us botched a radius of this, destabilizing
‘oppositional’ temperament. On our side, we’re doing well, considering.
To consider the green wooded radius is greater work, cuts straight
through any restructure, throwing out hyper-nonliteral depth w/ gutsy,
landscapist abandon.
The budget cuts (last line) are background to double-rhymed ambient scores.
Entire sectors feel it’s the end of capital, epic sums expended in slender
career arcs.
The floodgates and instrumentation get redone for full
combat. We wonder about other churning bits of our lifeline. It might be some
freedoms are on probation ...
according to decision theory now. / Not only for continuing,
the problem has been how.
You don’t understand until I do.
The if-movement (aspirations) can be thought
A saga you (as any of us) can pump off & on — so on
-Coming then coming clean is another part of closeness.
Lateer, new police!
[speak of paranoia]
There are subtitles, various languages. You dream while staying awake and translate the exposed back of another dreaming.
Nothing accrues but there’s a lifetime of waking thoughts.
Sleeping has nothing to do with nothing.
You can exit the room at any point, burning, or add features to nodules, as in rote ed like foundational philosophy.
The if-movement (aspirations) can be thought
A saga you (as any of us) can pump off & on — so on
-Coming then coming clean is another part of closeness.
Lateer, new police!
[speak of paranoia]
There are subtitles, various languages. You dream while staying awake and translate the exposed back of another dreaming.
Nothing accrues but there’s a lifetime of waking thoughts.
Sleeping has nothing to do with nothing.
You can exit the room at any point, burning, or add features to nodules, as in rote ed like foundational philosophy.
Rain fading under a bough, or heavenly bodies
Like stars on snow on top of sleet
Adjusting to bright, vermilion bushes of mist.
They have names ...
Tow trucks!
Even seagulls catch their sparks
Because the sun is thumping now, and pond birches tear,
Gathering momementum in shade,
A walkathon for frogs to paddle from side to side
Toward unknown splashes.
Or have we a name?
Like stars on snow on top of sleet
Adjusting to bright, vermilion bushes of mist.
They have names ...
Tow trucks!
Even seagulls catch their sparks
Because the sun is thumping now, and pond birches tear,
Gathering momementum in shade,
A walkathon for frogs to paddle from side to side
Toward unknown splashes.
Or have we a name?
It sounds like you know the feeling yet you’re not getting it. I want to distinguish my common prayer of grabbing knives and spoons v. the estimable intuition that expresses it.
Missing you doesn’t change anything. I want you to be happy but on time for signing the release pledges, availing yourself of lilac patterned backgrounds here that look like versions of cunning and mirrored parsimony canceling our love triangle — set against our similar fetishes and hiked vibes. It also helps to roll on the bed side to side.
Our alienation has been recorded and jocularly accepted. For cloying effects the sprigs you came with are picking up and the driftwood is still epigrammatic, the upside unrelated, pale, immaculate. I’ll let you off one side of the division. Yet
I’m not about to let you starve. Marry me.
Missing you doesn’t change anything. I want you to be happy but on time for signing the release pledges, availing yourself of lilac patterned backgrounds here that look like versions of cunning and mirrored parsimony canceling our love triangle — set against our similar fetishes and hiked vibes. It also helps to roll on the bed side to side.
Our alienation has been recorded and jocularly accepted. For cloying effects the sprigs you came with are picking up and the driftwood is still epigrammatic, the upside unrelated, pale, immaculate. I’ll let you off one side of the division. Yet
I’m not about to let you starve. Marry me.
Sway your head. That means dance.
Don’t hold it in. Talk to your doctor.
Read this. I did.
It’s half in libretto.
Try something cartoonish. I’m whirling around, pens and markers in hand in roughly 4 minute stints. Learning something about what I mean, high jinks soar belying despair over entropy, a quiet smoke, losing gravity!
One presumes elements are strung together out of desperation and a deeply ingrained exposition to demark the unknown, much as technology funds science.
Don’t hold it in. Talk to your doctor.
Read this. I did.
It’s half in libretto.
Try something cartoonish. I’m whirling around, pens and markers in hand in roughly 4 minute stints. Learning something about what I mean, high jinks soar belying despair over entropy, a quiet smoke, losing gravity!
One presumes elements are strung together out of desperation and a deeply ingrained exposition to demark the unknown, much as technology funds science.
Moral provisos are throwbacks to no-hurting instincts inherited and reviewed over time.
Suddenly as told by 2 dads, 3 moms or any of us,
No one is inferior or too serious, either.
We can maneuver with the real money of inevitability around many
Gender-specific no noes! shattering them.
The coding is simple, your Fearsome.
Your voice is full of loot, “walking Genet
on a diamond leash.”
Suddenly as told by 2 dads, 3 moms or any of us,
No one is inferior or too serious, either.
We can maneuver with the real money of inevitability around many
Gender-specific no noes! shattering them.
The coding is simple, your Fearsome.
Your voice is full of loot, “walking Genet
on a diamond leash.”
All this time Buddha and Buddhists are different things.
Knower and the known in physics, all branches, all matter —
an open-miked state of big joy, electrons.
They’ll have us over when life and death crack some heads on ethics...
Further: If poetics is a democracy, evasion in poetics is subject to scrutiny.
Don’t get me wrong I think free speech is nominal, so there’s freedom to evade. If not speech, evasion is a speech act. 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.
End quote.
Knower and the known in physics, all branches, all matter —
an open-miked state of big joy, electrons.
They’ll have us over when life and death crack some heads on ethics...
Further: If poetics is a democracy, evasion in poetics is subject to scrutiny.
Don’t get me wrong I think free speech is nominal, so there’s freedom to evade. If not speech, evasion is a speech act. 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.
End quote.
Sunday, December 22, 2019
When I hear topical shifts forward hidden risks it’s iterative, baroque in other words
oh yah pulled awake again.
That guy is the 1st to get a grip and hold.
Mr Peanut twisted once again to look up. I hadn’t expected it. On the other hand, what choice did he have?
There’s a term in telephony, ‘room tone,’ ordinary silence. My heart stopped altogether as I held my breath, then he answered.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Oh, em…”
“No. It’s not.”
“I would.”
“Well l—”
“You know what..”
“Promise..”
“Yeah, I think —”
What I heard while we both waited was room tone. The next five or six seconds would matter. In an hour he would walk us both down to clear our heads. He waited a moment more, then he said, “I’ve just noticed I haven’t said anything.”
oh yah pulled awake again.
That guy is the 1st to get a grip and hold.
Mr Peanut twisted once again to look up. I hadn’t expected it. On the other hand, what choice did he have?
There’s a term in telephony, ‘room tone,’ ordinary silence. My heart stopped altogether as I held my breath, then he answered.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Oh, em…”
“No. It’s not.”
“I would.”
“Well l—”
“You know what..”
“Promise..”
“Yeah, I think —”
What I heard while we both waited was room tone. The next five or six seconds would matter. In an hour he would walk us both down to clear our heads. He waited a moment more, then he said, “I’ve just noticed I haven’t said anything.”
I can’t grasp my attraction to Japanese manners.
A Japanese color, though, is the greenish vapor I fix on. How a light olive shifts to vetiver or chartreuse, fading hunter to aroma basilicum, dark lawn to ice minted, yellow sage to citrus spritzes, and multiples of khaki to translucent sprigs of tea in Kyushu in spring.
A Japanese color, though, is the greenish vapor I fix on. How a light olive shifts to vetiver or chartreuse, fading hunter to aroma basilicum, dark lawn to ice minted, yellow sage to citrus spritzes, and multiples of khaki to translucent sprigs of tea in Kyushu in spring.
Since we gave up on poetry, singalong has vaulted to the top of the agenda. Leaving office has a double meaning to off-center the filing (filtering) system and other singularities I’ve kept versed in for years. We have no limits to affirm any retractions, feeding our reliance on illumined work, dire pleasures, majestic plans and, this most generalized I guess, burningly turning back, looking on while the wax dims.
Friday, December 20, 2019
Affordable Noh. That’s both of us w/ big hanging wolf eyes. We’re a match in perseverance, trying to spook when we meet, somersaulting in.
What went around then came gasping, the more irregular the verb...
At fight camp all you bring are wet marks over your shirt — there you go — cadet-ed!
Inductions to your other habits —
The gleaming haze drags down sculptures of felted helium
A little like nerves done over by spinning in warm wind.
Noh stuff.
What went around then came gasping, the more irregular the verb...
At fight camp all you bring are wet marks over your shirt — there you go — cadet-ed!
Inductions to your other habits —
The gleaming haze drags down sculptures of felted helium
A little like nerves done over by spinning in warm wind.
Noh stuff.
It didn’t happened. I’m glad you’re here.
Capitalism never hesitates feeding acid to the innocent then addicting them through continuous discretion. It follows that each victim goes broke, sighing take me, kill me freely halfway through the change. O outer knee —
A Deux Magots adaptation:
Windmill robots embrace the free market, it was announced in a penetrating tone.
Neither dead or alive, a windmill robot in your imagination has a request,
“to express things ... as they are when you see them without remembering having looked at them.” It’s an infinite standard for an emergency lexis until who can say?
Capitalism never hesitates feeding acid to the innocent then addicting them through continuous discretion. It follows that each victim goes broke, sighing take me, kill me freely halfway through the change. O outer knee —
A Deux Magots adaptation:
Windmill robots embrace the free market, it was announced in a penetrating tone.
Neither dead or alive, a windmill robot in your imagination has a request,
“to express things ... as they are when you see them without remembering having looked at them.” It’s an infinite standard for an emergency lexis until who can say?
*
This is an impressions album. Or it was. Youth is so impressionable.
Ultra blurry, anamorphic, interatomic movement grows smug in writing it down. Large and tiny instincts proceed within mixed episodes and a school of red herrings..
Encore..
Like nowhere else in space,
A luscious, noiseless bonding in the era or epoch of the perpetually alterable
— a smack of already regretting it conjoins an invisible roll call gathering around neighbors’ mixed brays.
Music, if viable, of bee vapor. All our neighbors are mirror bees. Am I not one?
This is an impressions album. Or it was. Youth is so impressionable.
Ultra blurry, anamorphic, interatomic movement grows smug in writing it down. Large and tiny instincts proceed within mixed episodes and a school of red herrings..
Encore..
Like nowhere else in space,
A luscious, noiseless bonding in the era or epoch of the perpetually alterable
— a smack of already regretting it conjoins an invisible roll call gathering around neighbors’ mixed brays.
Music, if viable, of bee vapor. All our neighbors are mirror bees. Am I not one?
Thursday, December 19, 2019
I’m instructed by Alice Notley writing about Frank O’Hara in the first essay of Coming After, re-alerting us to the weight of his last poems that I still resist, a voice that’s “anonymous and communal (in the bad sense) in its exploitation of verbal mediocrity.” Notley sees O’Hara influenced by the “deadly flat diction” of television (the first generation of such pervasiveness), thus affects of the heinous sort, offering up “warnings.”Also in the same essay, on an earlier poem of O’Hara’s, Notley interjects, “the Buddha fucking well ought to think at this point in history,” a rousing supposition on her part about what O’Hara meant by ending “Image of the Buddha Preaching” this way: “...hopeful of a new delay in terror / I don’t think” — deeply stoic of O’Hara and Notley.
What is curious style? Plagiary
Is only a variable. Taken whole:
“Give in.”
All for a small surge to your advantage.
Blimey. (There’s a new principle to block deletions.)
I’m sipping Tropicana on indeterminism’s behalf,
Taken your lead. Dig you! Word processing in sheer Palatino
All the time, staggering prose!
Tomorrow I’ll give up on you
And tap out more deletions I forgot to lose —
Is only a variable. Taken whole:
“Give in.”
All for a small surge to your advantage.
Blimey. (There’s a new principle to block deletions.)
I’m sipping Tropicana on indeterminism’s behalf,
Taken your lead. Dig you! Word processing in sheer Palatino
All the time, staggering prose!
Tomorrow I’ll give up on you
And tap out more deletions I forgot to lose —
Allowing no pleasure from coercion, crossing heights
The snow was called because of rain; I’m sorry they spat. Why?
(I’m sorry there was really rain for you back then.
Back when you had excuses.) Why —
Yes. Your voice tended towards stridency.
Good point, syntactically an aspect through words, my thesis,
What is first cause?
The snow was called because of rain; I’m sorry they spat. Why?
(I’m sorry there was really rain for you back then.
Back when you had excuses.) Why —
Yes. Your voice tended towards stridency.
Good point, syntactically an aspect through words, my thesis,
What is first cause?
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Ted Greenwald
3
Cuneiform 2008
Here are the bizarre details, page 25, second stanza (of two).
Is it Peggy or Sue
I think I love you
Looking worldlessness
Remind me what's your name
Four ideas capture crucial goings-on in one’s pleasant complacency of clichéd language upended, in this case, by the deliberate problematizing of early rock ’n roll iconography, splitting chaste Peggy Sue in two — there is the shameless rhyming of Sue with the next line also ripped from an early r ’n r songbook as is the last line; and there’s the masterfully silly statement that spins our entire cultural orientation on its heels, forcing speculation the unstably-named Peggy, Sue or, in fact, Peggy Sue is not only worldless but stuck in the eerie, pathetic State of The Worldless.
Welcome back.
And if you think page 25 is a lucky pick, turn to page 27, second stanza (of two).
Going to make a difference
Greens, cooling off
Projectile confidence
With birdsong
The first line is again boilerplate, a bloated participial (or gerundive) phrase uttered millions of times an hour; the second line, culinary description or acute art speak — either way greens are consonant with the brash birdsong in the fourth line. Once more, that odd Line 3 rips the ‘scene’ open, pitching its payload our way. It’s not always so obvious that the third line re-orders each stanza, but frequently this is what happens, supporting one interpretation of the title 3. More satisfying is Ron Padgett’s idea, blurbing that 3 “takes the mind in at least three different directions simultaneously...”
Another basis for the title is that the collection has three parts. Poems cited above are from “Going Into School That Day,” pieces whose lengths alternate between eight lines on right pages and 14 lines on left pages, and which borrow “words of self-described redemption spoken by the late Salvador Agron,” as Greenwald explains on his copyright page. (Agron was a gang member who killed two teenagers in Hell’s Kitchen.) The two following sections contain pieces of parallel discourse strategy in different formats, “Anyway” with six-line verses, “Dawn On” with poems of 27 lines each. The language in the later sections is as watchful (“Looking”) for the everyday and as defiantly juxtaposed as that in the first section. Here are opening lines to the first poem in “Dawn On.”
Dawn on
As, iffy
Be so kind, looks on
The clear light Friendlies
Embody the money, short for
Inscribe on to forever iris inside clasp
Suggestions unhinge putting something on if
Embody the body all on about
Suggestions unhinge iris inside clasp...
The longer pieces in “Dawn On” allow Greenwald to battle with a sweep of communally mediated ironies, such as “clear light Friendlies,” and pivotal thought experiments engaging repetitions in language and implosions in meaning as with the shifts in the verbs embody, unhinge. This first poem continues such repetitions, doing it blithely, “bubble,” “happily,” “light,” “live,” and this: “Love most about muse excuse / Come across, bait and switch ... Come across muse excuse..." These experiments are not over and may never get resolved, a State of The Worldless that Greenwald nevertheless kisses if not marries, since it’s all of a projectile, a “fussball bubble / Nod happily feet many language.” The invite is out there, according to Greenwald, “The clear light looks on..."
3
Cuneiform 2008
Here are the bizarre details, page 25, second stanza (of two).
Is it Peggy or Sue
I think I love you
Looking worldlessness
Remind me what's your name
Four ideas capture crucial goings-on in one’s pleasant complacency of clichéd language upended, in this case, by the deliberate problematizing of early rock ’n roll iconography, splitting chaste Peggy Sue in two — there is the shameless rhyming of Sue with the next line also ripped from an early r ’n r songbook as is the last line; and there’s the masterfully silly statement that spins our entire cultural orientation on its heels, forcing speculation the unstably-named Peggy, Sue or, in fact, Peggy Sue is not only worldless but stuck in the eerie, pathetic State of The Worldless.
Welcome back.
And if you think page 25 is a lucky pick, turn to page 27, second stanza (of two).
Going to make a difference
Greens, cooling off
Projectile confidence
With birdsong
The first line is again boilerplate, a bloated participial (or gerundive) phrase uttered millions of times an hour; the second line, culinary description or acute art speak — either way greens are consonant with the brash birdsong in the fourth line. Once more, that odd Line 3 rips the ‘scene’ open, pitching its payload our way. It’s not always so obvious that the third line re-orders each stanza, but frequently this is what happens, supporting one interpretation of the title 3. More satisfying is Ron Padgett’s idea, blurbing that 3 “takes the mind in at least three different directions simultaneously...”
Another basis for the title is that the collection has three parts. Poems cited above are from “Going Into School That Day,” pieces whose lengths alternate between eight lines on right pages and 14 lines on left pages, and which borrow “words of self-described redemption spoken by the late Salvador Agron,” as Greenwald explains on his copyright page. (Agron was a gang member who killed two teenagers in Hell’s Kitchen.) The two following sections contain pieces of parallel discourse strategy in different formats, “Anyway” with six-line verses, “Dawn On” with poems of 27 lines each. The language in the later sections is as watchful (“Looking”) for the everyday and as defiantly juxtaposed as that in the first section. Here are opening lines to the first poem in “Dawn On.”
Dawn on
As, iffy
Be so kind, looks on
The clear light Friendlies
Embody the money, short for
Inscribe on to forever iris inside clasp
Suggestions unhinge putting something on if
Embody the body all on about
Suggestions unhinge iris inside clasp...
The longer pieces in “Dawn On” allow Greenwald to battle with a sweep of communally mediated ironies, such as “clear light Friendlies,” and pivotal thought experiments engaging repetitions in language and implosions in meaning as with the shifts in the verbs embody, unhinge. This first poem continues such repetitions, doing it blithely, “bubble,” “happily,” “light,” “live,” and this: “Love most about muse excuse / Come across, bait and switch ... Come across muse excuse..." These experiments are not over and may never get resolved, a State of The Worldless that Greenwald nevertheless kisses if not marries, since it’s all of a projectile, a “fussball bubble / Nod happily feet many language.” The invite is out there, according to Greenwald, “The clear light looks on..."
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
The small of his back sends me packing.
Sulking with a hygienic view forward.
— On an Old Testament.. I pledged a wholly hidden idiom
Of renderings, spotlighting what’s
Missing!
The cracks should be bridged with the view outside, pears and Fuji oak, null
Passages in fog, moos of approval. Lots.
I then bring us over to our original towel, leaving what’s left to chance.
Sulking with a hygienic view forward.
— On an Old Testament.. I pledged a wholly hidden idiom
Of renderings, spotlighting what’s
Missing!
The cracks should be bridged with the view outside, pears and Fuji oak, null
Passages in fog, moos of approval. Lots.
I then bring us over to our original towel, leaving what’s left to chance.
The sun shines larger. We rely,
really like your ideas. / O
great.
It’s such nice work, one idea
with a schema proliferating
questions of .. you can say
I’m still not finished you assay.
As we call soliloquy anti-brotherhood
since there’s no one else talking.
Enigmatic ideas extended here not audible —
Just a backstory away to others
long left out there within two deep rooms —
semantics and looser distinctions
over words bringing up the actual goods ..
really like your ideas. / O
great.
It’s such nice work, one idea
with a schema proliferating
questions of .. you can say
I’m still not finished you assay.
As we call soliloquy anti-brotherhood
since there’s no one else talking.
Enigmatic ideas extended here not audible —
Just a backstory away to others
long left out there within two deep rooms —
semantics and looser distinctions
over words bringing up the actual goods ..
Have we no will, no interest to shed our platform ambiguity?
Rationed atheism has long been a main event. High sectarian payments find a handy balance (organ music), ceiling arches in steam and rush-formatted white ‘sky’ disappearing in compatible multiplicities (plainsong for copulation). Late afternoon to others.
Rationed atheism has long been a main event. High sectarian payments find a handy balance (organ music), ceiling arches in steam and rush-formatted white ‘sky’ disappearing in compatible multiplicities (plainsong for copulation). Late afternoon to others.
Allegory /
Al Capp, my old neighbor created L’il Abner out of vitriol and bolus of sardonic revenge after WWII, exorcised as Ozark distantiation. Jester tricked to death.
Now, it’s the end age of aging; cartooning is flat out hot. Creating order within chaos. Be one with it.
I have an eye on jesters while I’m holding to their path, rescuing no one.
Al Capp, my old neighbor created L’il Abner out of vitriol and bolus of sardonic revenge after WWII, exorcised as Ozark distantiation. Jester tricked to death.
Now, it’s the end age of aging; cartooning is flat out hot. Creating order within chaos. Be one with it.
I have an eye on jesters while I’m holding to their path, rescuing no one.
I use bigger words than yours,
The spring flowers, the moon in autumn —
Classification by evolutionary collisions.
I think I prefer staying all-purpose, best calm, never resolved.
More bad news, I was
struck by the French property owner. You know,
plagiarism in quotes.
It’s cold indirection
but my metabolism really took off, along with emotions from a huge manuscript
they’re freezing
for an ‘end quote.’
They’re watching text spin like sentience
refined by distance, since
it’s both or none of the above. This could be for you now.
The spring flowers, the moon in autumn —
Classification by evolutionary collisions.
I think I prefer staying all-purpose, best calm, never resolved.
More bad news, I was
struck by the French property owner. You know,
plagiarism in quotes.
It’s cold indirection
but my metabolism really took off, along with emotions from a huge manuscript
they’re freezing
for an ‘end quote.’
They’re watching text spin like sentience
refined by distance, since
it’s both or none of the above. This could be for you now.
Monday, December 16, 2019
The terms are, go settle down through the evening, finish your agenda
at gunpoint. Please, even heartthrobs will be covered by shrouds that fray
and unspool to tease advantage from yearlong blues. Imprisoning refinement.
If you’re not there, anything Apollonian looks flab prone.
O vigoroso, a broad context refuses to arbitrate glamour, okay... we’re done
.. On my behalf Apollo can break laws to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
either way will be fractional in the bigger context / e.r.
Freedom is impersonal. With more solid heartaches over perfection up the hall,
binary fission about meaning what is not said
or saying what is not meant.
at gunpoint. Please, even heartthrobs will be covered by shrouds that fray
and unspool to tease advantage from yearlong blues. Imprisoning refinement.
If you’re not there, anything Apollonian looks flab prone.
O vigoroso, a broad context refuses to arbitrate glamour, okay... we’re done
.. On my behalf Apollo can break laws to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
either way will be fractional in the bigger context / e.r.
Freedom is impersonal. With more solid heartaches over perfection up the hall,
binary fission about meaning what is not said
or saying what is not meant.
I sneaked across those gimme-erotic catalysts. (I don’t remember whose or how.) It’s like a dance to respect what you guys were doing — our surprised look while you were working on it.
I’ll subsist in attrition finding then picking up purviews “encircling all travel” — a shore in maneuvers pitched way up like mores w/ infectious provisos, integers-to-be and no buzz to kill.
I (am or) was looking ragged but in a studied, not irresponsible way, reading and taking dictation to wrap up sleep.
I’ll subsist in attrition finding then picking up purviews “encircling all travel” — a shore in maneuvers pitched way up like mores w/ infectious provisos, integers-to-be and no buzz to kill.
I (am or) was looking ragged but in a studied, not irresponsible way, reading and taking dictation to wrap up sleep.
The sun maybe
Burning you, other brilliant dislocations TBA, expected. Alternate forms go
Beyond predicates fixated on loud procedures
But in their giddy case they look into a surfeit of space..
A sumptuous, soilless bond,
Angels — a happy title..
*
Maybe it’s only words, assembly, to quote you.
They are absolute culminators, without our enzymes.
Burning you, other brilliant dislocations TBA, expected. Alternate forms go
Beyond predicates fixated on loud procedures
But in their giddy case they look into a surfeit of space..
A sumptuous, soilless bond,
Angels — a happy title..
*
Maybe it’s only words, assembly, to quote you.
They are absolute culminators, without our enzymes.
Friday, December 13, 2019
The skinny on tall paintings is that they avoid defining many obscure or complex wranglings.
Yet I like an assemblage of contradictions.
Neanderthals constructed paintings in two rings of deliberately cracked stalagmites, 400 per ring.
First to impress their Swedish hosts, who were, second, workshopped into volunteer flotation gear.
The tallest paintings then remeasure your height.
Painting ideas. You had heard maggots eat paintings stretched onto canvases of different sizes, gloomy jigsaws, severed threads, sticky placards in paints that’re wasted, emaciated planes, junk and emptiness. Painting double quotes.
Yet I like an assemblage of contradictions.
Neanderthals constructed paintings in two rings of deliberately cracked stalagmites, 400 per ring.
First to impress their Swedish hosts, who were, second, workshopped into volunteer flotation gear.
The tallest paintings then remeasure your height.
Painting ideas. You had heard maggots eat paintings stretched onto canvases of different sizes, gloomy jigsaws, severed threads, sticky placards in paints that’re wasted, emaciated planes, junk and emptiness. Painting double quotes.
With every rallentando I feel cleaner, more nondenominational than ever
Now a little drunk I look up at elm crocuses fighting odor, climbing the trunk.
It’s air apparent. I feel cleaner with you. Clearer in noble gas and flux. I do.
Molecules will sue
You — they’ll sue us both for our goals and coral glow —
What a snit! Apart from love I am ashamed now
Breaking up with you feels like getting tested for flu ..
You and I in slow, we hope, radon decay
that stays unaffiliated yet torched with prayer.
Now a little drunk I look up at elm crocuses fighting odor, climbing the trunk.
It’s air apparent. I feel cleaner with you. Clearer in noble gas and flux. I do.
Molecules will sue
You — they’ll sue us both for our goals and coral glow —
What a snit! Apart from love I am ashamed now
Breaking up with you feels like getting tested for flu ..
You and I in slow, we hope, radon decay
that stays unaffiliated yet torched with prayer.
There are three courses of action for how I hardened.
Invariably it’s nightfall when I called you Aces. Second,
in a wood some paths were deep descents, big guy,
& looking out, Dr Franklin (you) scorned intuitive leaps
that led Watson & Crick to a necessity that’s always
at the beginning as, third, everyone was telling us we're
inevitable. Further up there’s fog but it’s nice
I can’t explain it. We should be home soon, it’s just
an ingathered feeling, nearest a dry hearth awaiting us
while being googled. What if I am a drifter
responding to a new season of enthusiasms.. could
you still like me, could you vote I liked this except
for you? & lie down with me & reach through. Pardon
me. Emergency. Anyway, excuse me. Pardon.
Invariably it’s nightfall when I called you Aces. Second,
in a wood some paths were deep descents, big guy,
& looking out, Dr Franklin (you) scorned intuitive leaps
that led Watson & Crick to a necessity that’s always
at the beginning as, third, everyone was telling us we're
inevitable. Further up there’s fog but it’s nice
I can’t explain it. We should be home soon, it’s just
an ingathered feeling, nearest a dry hearth awaiting us
while being googled. What if I am a drifter
responding to a new season of enthusiasms.. could
you still like me, could you vote I liked this except
for you? & lie down with me & reach through. Pardon
me. Emergency. Anyway, excuse me. Pardon.
Thursday, December 12, 2019
I keep my mouth shut & I listen. This is how
One escalates with all one’s parts to inhabit received logic.
I’m retracing what I think I see but I’ve fallen behind
For concentrating on blank verse, naming names,
Pushing the most obvious among broken arts
Of self-defiance. Lunatic
Love. My blood type is — or
My drink is — as he shows now
Leaving me laughing under oath.
One escalates with all one’s parts to inhabit received logic.
I’m retracing what I think I see but I’ve fallen behind
For concentrating on blank verse, naming names,
Pushing the most obvious among broken arts
Of self-defiance. Lunatic
Love. My blood type is — or
My drink is — as he shows now
Leaving me laughing under oath.
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
What do you need now and for what?
Does it matter, that light, deft question?
I ducked his dumb query, closed the distance.
I told him, no, I have to split. Added a little
from today’s Times calling Merce Cunningham’s
choreography Democracy in Action a refreshing run around
the unlettered clique-minded.
Last figurines / their aptness in transit
when pragma-morphism brainstorms over exit left.
Does it matter, that light, deft question?
I ducked his dumb query, closed the distance.
I told him, no, I have to split. Added a little
from today’s Times calling Merce Cunningham’s
choreography Democracy in Action a refreshing run around
the unlettered clique-minded.
Last figurines / their aptness in transit
when pragma-morphism brainstorms over exit left.
Capitalist tactics are sustained innovation in nowhere equivalent to —
Ah
all right.. You sit languidly, the other side of the room, locked in capitalist circumstance.
You like to dwell publicly on crispnesses in whispers in the air. You chill the sorbet and warm the surf insidiously. Your sleep is spoken of in a language recognized by flowers from evolutionary distances.
We’re hankering to choreograph the open air in touch w/ the outside. The sky shaped in squares, bolted w/ blips on simplex-repetitive top layers, tethered for interpretation.
You and I ingest each square as one, at once. Blind tessellation, exhaling while we file phrases compelling investors, scientists to work together.
Ah
all right.. You sit languidly, the other side of the room, locked in capitalist circumstance.
You like to dwell publicly on crispnesses in whispers in the air. You chill the sorbet and warm the surf insidiously. Your sleep is spoken of in a language recognized by flowers from evolutionary distances.
We’re hankering to choreograph the open air in touch w/ the outside. The sky shaped in squares, bolted w/ blips on simplex-repetitive top layers, tethered for interpretation.
You and I ingest each square as one, at once. Blind tessellation, exhaling while we file phrases compelling investors, scientists to work together.
Monday, December 9, 2019
A chance at a longer life.
The copy writes itself.
I pulled out a blank check and left it blank.
Nonviolence resolutions have been approved. This is the place for airborne definitions. Here you find remuted meaning, good as gossip to evade a “mixed remuting strategy” to partner with whom, exactly?
O Headwaiters..
I have a steady beat now. I have rage stamped inside. I keep it everywhere inside
everywhere. Coordinates
everywhere...
everywhere..
O rockets to further research.
— O bailiff, be this...
Sung. A first poem.
The copy writes itself.
I pulled out a blank check and left it blank.
Nonviolence resolutions have been approved. This is the place for airborne definitions. Here you find remuted meaning, good as gossip to evade a “mixed remuting strategy” to partner with whom, exactly?
O Headwaiters..
I have a steady beat now. I have rage stamped inside. I keep it everywhere inside
everywhere. Coordinates
everywhere...
everywhere..
O rockets to further research.
— O bailiff, be this...
Sung. A first poem.
Sunday, December 8, 2019
I added frontal motion to those looks of yours that intimidate, m’lord.
Visual surprise comes with an infrequent snow flake or volcano ember
floating at nose level. That’s cool — I’m creamed just for sleeping with you, blackmailed..
wandering into the new wrong theater guild
chopped into little squares of hypnotic drumming
and massive parallel vistas projecting smiles and learning
showing up invisibly. Involuntary. Libido.
Manners of ambiguity?
To buy her lipstick.
Visual surprise comes with an infrequent snow flake or volcano ember
floating at nose level. That’s cool — I’m creamed just for sleeping with you, blackmailed..
wandering into the new wrong theater guild
chopped into little squares of hypnotic drumming
and massive parallel vistas projecting smiles and learning
showing up invisibly. Involuntary. Libido.
Manners of ambiguity?
To buy her lipstick.
Childhood runs out, our taxonomies still
unexplained as temp permits.
...you know what I mean standing here, promoting pap acceptance.. you’re a diva in fact
with nothing to give back, not mad enough, feeling too little.
Feelings, too few.
One by one
wait for it. They
seem more promiscuous than anything not there.
Therefore here.
If we don’t buy this, we’re the product.
unexplained as temp permits.
...you know what I mean standing here, promoting pap acceptance.. you’re a diva in fact
with nothing to give back, not mad enough, feeling too little.
Feelings, too few.
One by one
wait for it. They
seem more promiscuous than anything not there.
Therefore here.
If we don’t buy this, we’re the product.
Friday, December 6, 2019
Something came up. Anthropomorphism.
And what’s not mentioned expanded underground.
This is as lightning gains on fog. Lightning ‘understands’
it’s disassociated. Has nothing to transact, no fad product.
How is it fire tears up senseless atoms in sparks fog glows around
and falls out with grey streaks that look glazed and remedial —
I have the same trouble when I shop for trafficked facts on sale.
Our uncertainty principles, you see, are confused by prior understanding.
And what’s not mentioned expanded underground.
This is as lightning gains on fog. Lightning ‘understands’
it’s disassociated. Has nothing to transact, no fad product.
How is it fire tears up senseless atoms in sparks fog glows around
and falls out with grey streaks that look glazed and remedial —
I have the same trouble when I shop for trafficked facts on sale.
Our uncertainty principles, you see, are confused by prior understanding.
A dictionary of Indo-European roots lists derivatives for gno = know, can, cunning, ken, kith, kin, uncouth, notice, notify, notion, notorious, cognition, recognize, connoisseur, quaint(?), ignore, noble (known, knowable), gnomon (diagnosis, prognosis), narrate (from Latin gnarrare); & these less ‘probable’ links = annotate, norm, abnormal, enormous.
Poets, I guess, know this, so someone’s dismissal of another's work by shrug / hum is unclear thinking, a mark of unknowing. Patterns of dismissal show a settlement of ignorance. Ignorance comes easy, tho, among conservatives like me. First is not reading. I won’t buy the book, if given the book, I’ll sell it. Second, there’s reading just to find a formal quality (scanning?). Can I do this? What’s the vocabulary like? This reveals a poco inquisitiveness, but it’s all about willful typecasting, bracketing in other words streamlined for not reading further. For face to face ignorance, there’s not listening or not listening much or listening to find an opening for my chance to speak (hey do you like what I do?). Hanging around enormous egos like mine is just not fun, unless, of course, there are compensating abnormalities.
What I want are noble communities of uncouth poets who not only notice one another but stay awake & narrate Oh. If it’s abnormally sweet, you’ll be the first to know.
We have no boundaries and can go further even in unendurable weather.
— drafted 2003
Poets, I guess, know this, so someone’s dismissal of another's work by shrug / hum is unclear thinking, a mark of unknowing. Patterns of dismissal show a settlement of ignorance. Ignorance comes easy, tho, among conservatives like me. First is not reading. I won’t buy the book, if given the book, I’ll sell it. Second, there’s reading just to find a formal quality (scanning?). Can I do this? What’s the vocabulary like? This reveals a poco inquisitiveness, but it’s all about willful typecasting, bracketing in other words streamlined for not reading further. For face to face ignorance, there’s not listening or not listening much or listening to find an opening for my chance to speak (hey do you like what I do?). Hanging around enormous egos like mine is just not fun, unless, of course, there are compensating abnormalities.
What I want are noble communities of uncouth poets who not only notice one another but stay awake & narrate Oh. If it’s abnormally sweet, you’ll be the first to know.
We have no boundaries and can go further even in unendurable weather.
— drafted 2003
Thursday, December 5, 2019
Beginning to get the picture. Your flash is surface.
You wiggle like a borzoi
w/ backsliding wipe-outs & fan reactions:
trash affects we tautologize into cattle calls of glum purity.
At least our calls are directed to one area...
‘holding each other open’ foreordaining our talking devices will moan to the surface. Your flash.
There may be many areas, too.
You wiggle like a borzoi
w/ backsliding wipe-outs & fan reactions:
trash affects we tautologize into cattle calls of glum purity.
At least our calls are directed to one area...
‘holding each other open’ foreordaining our talking devices will moan to the surface. Your flash.
There may be many areas, too.
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
Don’t we have an elevator to take (to greet you)?
Gavel to gavel hours turning the page. Hours.
What we do converts personality to stunt-craft.
What we act out through open discourse... W. B. Yeats calls the bestial floor. Please,
have your way. Have your composite gods who do it for the masses.
(This soon after a last breath, is it safe to call on you O Yeats?) (Maybe not.)
Some of us are too disgraced to save
the day.
Though not all of us will defriend you now or any time. Now there is only commutation of friendship.
It’s natural, a picnic in the outback.
The wilds... on all fours, all floors. Hours.
Gavel to gavel hours turning the page. Hours.
What we do converts personality to stunt-craft.
What we act out through open discourse... W. B. Yeats calls the bestial floor. Please,
have your way. Have your composite gods who do it for the masses.
(This soon after a last breath, is it safe to call on you O Yeats?) (Maybe not.)
Some of us are too disgraced to save
the day.
Though not all of us will defriend you now or any time. Now there is only commutation of friendship.
It’s natural, a picnic in the outback.
The wilds... on all fours, all floors. Hours.
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
“Bliss.” We were looking it up.
A battle between two acumens
bringing up a few others,
times two more of those brain states from euphoria.
A marsh is now interesting
(vitae) for the sea. To the eye, in sun nothing but applesauce shellac,
a varnish the sea brought in without consent, leader of the pack
in subject matter. Not on varnish, on bliss.
A battle between two acumens
bringing up a few others,
times two more of those brain states from euphoria.
A marsh is now interesting
(vitae) for the sea. To the eye, in sun nothing but applesauce shellac,
a varnish the sea brought in without consent, leader of the pack
in subject matter. Not on varnish, on bliss.
Looking back I think commuter bike paths tamper with green space.
Coming clean about adulthood is a neat precipice.
The surface (ubi sunt) has music twisting intellectually, pedalling in shorthand, gilding with objects ..
Duh wheels duly rounded.
Doing what I am here to do,
Does I can’t be responsible ring a bell?
Coming clean about adulthood is a neat precipice.
The surface (ubi sunt) has music twisting intellectually, pedalling in shorthand, gilding with objects ..
Duh wheels duly rounded.
Doing what I am here to do,
Does I can’t be responsible ring a bell?
Monday, December 2, 2019
It’s between hopeless and rebuked by evolution.
Hemi or semi —
orphaned as-is...
Photons in a neutrino cavity. Glad scene-makers or martial artists, music critics, or proud old squares barnstorming swift-footed through the biosphere to eclipse career obstacles.
Failures in love fall away, never in 2 places enough needing permission, shuttered, untainted, bleak, drear and just dumb.
‘The world of secrets holds its own’ = patterns to succeeding circumstance.
Hemi or semi —
orphaned as-is...
Photons in a neutrino cavity. Glad scene-makers or martial artists, music critics, or proud old squares barnstorming swift-footed through the biosphere to eclipse career obstacles.
Failures in love fall away, never in 2 places enough needing permission, shuttered, untainted, bleak, drear and just dumb.
‘The world of secrets holds its own’ = patterns to succeeding circumstance.
We’re released by ourselves into the water supply. Globe-trotters. Kissers, both cheeks. Up toward the heights curls come back. Bells in heaven. My eyebrow arched and I gasped.
In physiologist years this is a star-quake, falling and liberated by the carpentry in reading sensory input as the doctor’s tongue worked in circles. Then he darted straight in. I realized tension was flying from my face, dull and throbbing.
In physiologist years this is a star-quake, falling and liberated by the carpentry in reading sensory input as the doctor’s tongue worked in circles. Then he darted straight in. I realized tension was flying from my face, dull and throbbing.
Withholding the time-inverse we reupholster & improve levels of comfort across consciousness / we, that is, the explicator in you & me. A chance laden balance.
That balance rotates with our fooling ourselves over variant hazards in our heads tilted
vertically to catch some sun. Inelegant in our cultish way we look down on square plots of thought outlines.
That balance rotates with our fooling ourselves over variant hazards in our heads tilted
vertically to catch some sun. Inelegant in our cultish way we look down on square plots of thought outlines.
A poetry of drop scenes earns dumbfounding awards..
Folk-maverick,
you’re the counter-intuitive guest with a dark advantage.
Adolescent, a heavenly circumstance..
you go on telling lies keeping the upper hand over hosts in abstraction.
Our memory of the moment wasted randomly
by desires for a wider development. A hill that’s not
a hill, a gaze upon the sun leading to another byword
not in this sentence.
Folk-maverick,
you’re the counter-intuitive guest with a dark advantage.
Adolescent, a heavenly circumstance..
you go on telling lies keeping the upper hand over hosts in abstraction.
Our memory of the moment wasted randomly
by desires for a wider development. A hill that’s not
a hill, a gaze upon the sun leading to another byword
not in this sentence.
Sunday, December 1, 2019
Tarantulas of steel squeeze under the trap door, isolated by an obsession coming on to us, coming right in. There we go, holist.
Theory-and-error-correction deserve your attention..
Theory is the place we detect problem sets you’ve already gone over. We’re untidy and young, accomplished and loathed despite a foundational rule of no principles without a permit.
The tarantulas are swelling to expire in wrinkled light, over and done — burbling with their own kill-agenda tickled into indecision, hankering even now to chatter.
Theory-and-error-correction deserve your attention..
Theory is the place we detect problem sets you’ve already gone over. We’re untidy and young, accomplished and loathed despite a foundational rule of no principles without a permit.
The tarantulas are swelling to expire in wrinkled light, over and done — burbling with their own kill-agenda tickled into indecision, hankering even now to chatter.
A social progressive is today’s depressed comedian, a big abnormal mess, a product of one’s time. He or she wins all the half-eaten take-out left on the table. 40% of obdurate hardly-ever voters like you and me. And how long can one live folding up conversation, conjecture perpetually minimalist verging on filth and circumstance? Who isn’t one?
I’m earning a doctorate in indignity
And blank verse opera. I swear
I keep my mouth shut & I listen. This is how
One escalates with all one’s parts to inhabit received logic.
I’m retracing what I think I see but I’ve fallen behind
For concentrating on wrong colors, citing buried names,
Pushing the most obvious among broken arts
Of the self-defiant. Lunatic
Love. My blood type is — or
My drink is — as he shows now
Leaving me laughing under oath.
And blank verse opera. I swear
I keep my mouth shut & I listen. This is how
One escalates with all one’s parts to inhabit received logic.
I’m retracing what I think I see but I’ve fallen behind
For concentrating on wrong colors, citing buried names,
Pushing the most obvious among broken arts
Of the self-defiant. Lunatic
Love. My blood type is — or
My drink is — as he shows now
Leaving me laughing under oath.
Wednesday, November 27, 2019
24: One perspective: My eye plays the painter. Good background for for you and me to peep in.
Wherethrough a whole school of cunning painters can pick you up, take a day off
away from hangers-on. Painters will be drawn to your skill & art — your true image.
Your glazed eye for an eye, good turns both physical & in thought
win
the day even as shapely models file by in your body frame —
painters will gaze on them to retrace your form but never know your heart.
Wherethrough a whole school of cunning painters can pick you up, take a day off
away from hangers-on. Painters will be drawn to your skill & art — your true image.
Your glazed eye for an eye, good turns both physical & in thought
win
the day even as shapely models file by in your body frame —
painters will gaze on them to retrace your form but never know your heart.
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
The move-your-ass comment — I meant smell the juniper within a philosophy (moving spatial dimensions)
& (look inside!) a few hours forward!
Dispatched for
chaos
yet
subjects of desire in another sense, an echo
understanding from Q & A’s in visible
almost august light.
Minimalist
& suddenly just theory
awing in a wolf’s regime ..
There’s brush
fire aimed at mosquitos — shot
through the throat, asking too much ..
& (look inside!) a few hours forward!
Dispatched for
chaos
yet
subjects of desire in another sense, an echo
understanding from Q & A’s in visible
almost august light.
Minimalist
& suddenly just theory
awing in a wolf’s regime ..
There’s brush
fire aimed at mosquitos — shot
through the throat, asking too much ..
Come back .. why not!
You and I nonetheless detect a rank trap.
We declaim no ruler can speak up without permission.
This declamation of ours advances within beveled language in dim light —
on no-work days. Contexts for exemption are lost on pure squirts in security.
Immunity, like politics, is always here, a gene expression omnibus
as love is for love —
It’s lithium, you say. I don’t know. Hard to tell. I’m laughing under oath.
(To put it down on paper makes it theory.)
You and I are just one nuclear video from viral fame.
Vanity is promotion.
Amen to white boats opposing fearless innocence.
You and I nonetheless detect a rank trap.
We declaim no ruler can speak up without permission.
This declamation of ours advances within beveled language in dim light —
on no-work days. Contexts for exemption are lost on pure squirts in security.
Immunity, like politics, is always here, a gene expression omnibus
as love is for love —
It’s lithium, you say. I don’t know. Hard to tell. I’m laughing under oath.
(To put it down on paper makes it theory.)
You and I are just one nuclear video from viral fame.
Vanity is promotion.
Amen to white boats opposing fearless innocence.
Monday, November 25, 2019
There’s a benign debate — where brightness bore in, grateful pre-nuptials stampeded out,
Drawing the unmarried into dark zones of odiferous propaganda.
And owing to your interest... this won’t establish a holy day, merely an avian sacrament.
Or only one of many noted by a crowd of juncos aft.
My terms are to settle down through the evening. Your proud examples gain longterm advantage spreading themselves thin.
(Hold on, I was handed this special instant.)
Keeping one’s posture simple on the corner of statue and utterly out of space, one is within earshot.
I am still there..
Only there’s the one I am for, whom I fail completely, openly.
Drawing the unmarried into dark zones of odiferous propaganda.
And owing to your interest... this won’t establish a holy day, merely an avian sacrament.
Or only one of many noted by a crowd of juncos aft.
My terms are to settle down through the evening. Your proud examples gain longterm advantage spreading themselves thin.
(Hold on, I was handed this special instant.)
Keeping one’s posture simple on the corner of statue and utterly out of space, one is within earshot.
I am still there..
Only there’s the one I am for, whom I fail completely, openly.
One main test: You can’t waste time.
It’s easy going out and doing things you don’t know. No repeat parts.
A severe tone? Start playing. Start writing. Dig in.
The charge there thrills in peeling back from nothing as well as failing to resist your moment. Or ex-moment (now).
I’m leaving you everything glazed or less remedial, along with fragments in B-flat, thinking them over.
I saw remorse somewhere?
(Should a lad be given a pianist’s shh?)
Run for our false/full lives. Or not.
It’s easy going out and doing things you don’t know. No repeat parts.
A severe tone? Start playing. Start writing. Dig in.
The charge there thrills in peeling back from nothing as well as failing to resist your moment. Or ex-moment (now).
I’m leaving you everything glazed or less remedial, along with fragments in B-flat, thinking them over.
I saw remorse somewhere?
(Should a lad be given a pianist’s shh?)
Run for our false/full lives. Or not.
Microscopic levitation gets modulated. Had to be. Modulated is like coming out to predict your hard held views, sampling the masked hostility and indecisiveness of our verbal environment and backing it up with inexact explanations and multiplying love of what we were doing before the procedural took hold. Then we are off again, taken off, backed up in the cloud this time, keeping our data immune to causation.
Leaning in, wise and cruel.
In sleep my heart greets guests, offering immunity.
Going wide, immunity is madness in snow season.
Snow this soon is a surprise. (Didn’t know I’m a novice enthusiast, a manner of pity.)
Should I despair?
It’s snowing, nothing personal, wafting like foaming love over my awesome hamlet —
Further out the world is grown up with descriptors peeling off like spiders hustling always. Snow as hustlers.
There’s a method they share, I whisper to myself, falling for the freshest ingredients.
In sleep my heart greets guests, offering immunity.
Going wide, immunity is madness in snow season.
Snow this soon is a surprise. (Didn’t know I’m a novice enthusiast, a manner of pity.)
Should I despair?
It’s snowing, nothing personal, wafting like foaming love over my awesome hamlet —
Further out the world is grown up with descriptors peeling off like spiders hustling always. Snow as hustlers.
There’s a method they share, I whisper to myself, falling for the freshest ingredients.
Sunday, November 24, 2019
The American Songbook has motors for luscious hills, gleaming grains. Apparatchik elders’ fall is a warning, hiss-able, going monochrome in uglified loveliness besieged by entertainment.
We sometimes need fresh lexicon to wangle a way to reset the mind-body problem, irruptive words to determine their own landscape, items like primality and cuboidal glints of music, human commination over heaven, akin to the great abstractions around technical ambiguities. Never far away strove the steady salmon through jagged streams, eating air, rounding out a shiny net!
We sometimes need fresh lexicon to wangle a way to reset the mind-body problem, irruptive words to determine their own landscape, items like primality and cuboidal glints of music, human commination over heaven, akin to the great abstractions around technical ambiguities. Never far away strove the steady salmon through jagged streams, eating air, rounding out a shiny net!
Saturday, November 23, 2019
Hands are everything. You might say
It was past conjecture; ever since
The atmosphere upsurges when the rules stick.
His eyes & yours fill with knife jabs.
Your brain stores all kinds of pleasure. & his the same.
A genome led you to him..
He smiles with no wisecracks about your bluffing kowtow & innocence
— nothing to discredit or crib
...no hell to pay!
...the rain keeps raising rules of thumb, bringing it all back.
It was past conjecture; ever since
The atmosphere upsurges when the rules stick.
His eyes & yours fill with knife jabs.
Your brain stores all kinds of pleasure. & his the same.
A genome led you to him..
He smiles with no wisecracks about your bluffing kowtow & innocence
— nothing to discredit or crib
...no hell to pay!
...the rain keeps raising rules of thumb, bringing it all back.
Friday, November 22, 2019
The if-movement (aspiration) can be thought
A nature walk you (like any of us) can jump in on or not — so on
-coming then coming clean is another sort of closeness.
Later, new police!
[talk of paranoia...]
I flash forward to your original brilliance.
& today I’ve never been more uplifted, more unnerved by an against-type chamber piece
somberly floating in odd intelligence, now audible
signs of history, of intention, preparing nature for us.
I write on my nature in my head. Let’s hold a séance!
I snare us muse Joy to starve a fever. (Is it raining out?
At a range in speeds & locales, yes.)
Many rooms, each story (usually) with clay-toned physiques
fighting the relative fight waving, receding on one another
— most under an influence indoors & out. Outside is filthy. A foot of snow from the window. Laps of water filled with light snow, rotating in reverse as if catching up on how to purify their offspring & manage their own fever in lurches of nibbling torque in a day then daze.
A nature walk you (like any of us) can jump in on or not — so on
-coming then coming clean is another sort of closeness.
Later, new police!
[talk of paranoia...]
I flash forward to your original brilliance.
& today I’ve never been more uplifted, more unnerved by an against-type chamber piece
somberly floating in odd intelligence, now audible
signs of history, of intention, preparing nature for us.
I write on my nature in my head. Let’s hold a séance!
I snare us muse Joy to starve a fever. (Is it raining out?
At a range in speeds & locales, yes.)
Many rooms, each story (usually) with clay-toned physiques
fighting the relative fight waving, receding on one another
— most under an influence indoors & out. Outside is filthy. A foot of snow from the window. Laps of water filled with light snow, rotating in reverse as if catching up on how to purify their offspring & manage their own fever in lurches of nibbling torque in a day then daze.
Idiot sparrows, wrens suffer rain, finding things out,
Unleashing each other —
They enjoy themselves when abroad.
Who isn’t sick of us and who questions any backlash?
A vulcanized last payment received.
No hope it’s you. Almost the same as hopeless:
The future would give more / no more
Than thanks, laughably... no thanks.
I thought of you.
Unleashing each other —
They enjoy themselves when abroad.
Who isn’t sick of us and who questions any backlash?
A vulcanized last payment received.
No hope it’s you. Almost the same as hopeless:
The future would give more / no more
Than thanks, laughably... no thanks.
I thought of you.
I have no use for you.
I’m drunk on uses of empathy and bounce. Or plans change.
Universality is homesick, having lived off the in-laws of physics. But not now, daybreak —
Conditions look staggered, first up, off-ivory — wanting a universe to admire (me too).
Then a profane Rubik of dawn’s assured color range,
yet how far & vast connivance redeems all that
to put aside loss, cheek and whiffs of misuse. In concatenation, O dawn.
I’m drunk on uses of empathy and bounce. Or plans change.
Universality is homesick, having lived off the in-laws of physics. But not now, daybreak —
Conditions look staggered, first up, off-ivory — wanting a universe to admire (me too).
Then a profane Rubik of dawn’s assured color range,
yet how far & vast connivance redeems all that
to put aside loss, cheek and whiffs of misuse. In concatenation, O dawn.
En route to the dogs, there’s the apocalypse w/in; pushing up deeply.
Our lot’s in a hurry. Natant decapods added vowels.
No future arouses chaotic phenomena rooting for any singularity ahead until there is no threshold. Another one. Matter persists, w/o dissonance, no disruption, a new status quo: perpetual and vital amid meanderings that are ordered appearances gone dormant, nearly kaput, or snap, running off with fresh incentives for a frontier in more ubiquity. Optics unravel in dissolving attitudes behind all the good times forward.
Our lot’s in a hurry. Natant decapods added vowels.
No future arouses chaotic phenomena rooting for any singularity ahead until there is no threshold. Another one. Matter persists, w/o dissonance, no disruption, a new status quo: perpetual and vital amid meanderings that are ordered appearances gone dormant, nearly kaput, or snap, running off with fresh incentives for a frontier in more ubiquity. Optics unravel in dissolving attitudes behind all the good times forward.
Shopping sprees are migratory patterns.
They get disrupted but don’t let up.
It goes back to when no Murphy bed was sacred or chic. Tempus fugit.
Take an interest in opulence & stratagems bequeathing us
sherbet, oomphy comforts & massive inflows of feel-
ing great! The brands are awesome taken to far corners, above
exposed plans of a bowling facility, now vacated forever last summer.
Looks as if we’re metaphysicists to inner antecendants.
Lemme go.
They get disrupted but don’t let up.
It goes back to when no Murphy bed was sacred or chic. Tempus fugit.
Take an interest in opulence & stratagems bequeathing us
sherbet, oomphy comforts & massive inflows of feel-
ing great! The brands are awesome taken to far corners, above
exposed plans of a bowling facility, now vacated forever last summer.
Looks as if we’re metaphysicists to inner antecendants.
Lemme go.
To Caspar,
I think you asked for this over dinner.
Ghost buds for twenty-first century renos in a whole range of sentiments.
No chance, astrophysicist.
So you get it now, assigning ghosts to our planet to feel cathartic
is dimensionally impossible. You’re dull. Rather uneducated.
You’re all shine and velocity for us, the living!
Sap is flowing, Caspar, top gear, top speed.
Grab a sawhorse.
I think you asked for this over dinner.
Ghost buds for twenty-first century renos in a whole range of sentiments.
No chance, astrophysicist.
So you get it now, assigning ghosts to our planet to feel cathartic
is dimensionally impossible. You’re dull. Rather uneducated.
You’re all shine and velocity for us, the living!
Sap is flowing, Caspar, top gear, top speed.
Grab a sawhorse.
My counselor affidavit registers our deficiency of pretexts. All the same, hunches count. (I’ve always been competing with another self.)
Surely alter egos bear no responsibility for foundering within the social anomaly of treason.
Rules commit us. Voters chose Trump. Yet this is the latest case.
Everything I note here is integrated by law. Remember those days?
Surely alter egos bear no responsibility for foundering within the social anomaly of treason.
Rules commit us. Voters chose Trump. Yet this is the latest case.
Everything I note here is integrated by law. Remember those days?
Thursday, November 21, 2019
After you, a burst of daft tone substitutes for info.
Wait. There’s nothing.
I lower your voice to closest saturnal parity
plucked out of adversative brutality ..
Yet nothing is forbidden.
Finalists like you quit general practice — off to privacy
with little or no honor left, one laughed. And yet not you, your honor...
Summer’s actuaries record having a good time as vicarious, no
moving figures. (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.
Wait. There’s nothing.
I lower your voice to closest saturnal parity
plucked out of adversative brutality ..
Yet nothing is forbidden.
Finalists like you quit general practice — off to privacy
with little or no honor left, one laughed. And yet not you, your honor...
Summer’s actuaries record having a good time as vicarious, no
moving figures. (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.
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
’Recursive perception’ —
For your birthday (bleak as mine, too) I came straight from the agency, this text’s agility welded to my regular dirty space in which I wrote “Potential as Pretext in Recursive Perception and Action,” which seemed all I wanted to think of, ambiguously, in pastels.
It was everything.
For your birthday (bleak as mine, too) I came straight from the agency, this text’s agility welded to my regular dirty space in which I wrote “Potential as Pretext in Recursive Perception and Action,” which seemed all I wanted to think of, ambiguously, in pastels.
It was everything.
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
I am citizen physicist to an inner antecedent for scriptural deadpan.
Drowsiness may be our great escape or you and I may just walk it off, forgetting evolution optimizes what we already think.
Your face, the trains I ride and furthermore. It’s good. Even if you’re allergic and our staying casual definitely perpetuates the appearance of progress.
(The above interlude rules us both draining of meaning.)
Drowsiness may be our great escape or you and I may just walk it off, forgetting evolution optimizes what we already think.
Your face, the trains I ride and furthermore. It’s good. Even if you’re allergic and our staying casual definitely perpetuates the appearance of progress.
(The above interlude rules us both draining of meaning.)
Striking bells, lightening round..
Take a test. Brightness gushes out, but colliding transmissions are roughened by the screaming. Screaming ballet is euphoria — turbulent-urges and compromises. But do you understand the point of the test?
It’s anonymous either way.
Tho before the diagramming mist rolled in I felt your grace, holding on with both hands.
Take a test. Brightness gushes out, but colliding transmissions are roughened by the screaming. Screaming ballet is euphoria — turbulent-urges and compromises. But do you understand the point of the test?
It’s anonymous either way.
Tho before the diagramming mist rolled in I felt your grace, holding on with both hands.
An organizing force under command matures into familiar splashes of
watercolorist anesthesia: Takes my place being places (an event in tropes) —
Meantime, ping. We’re here for discovery via inflection in lap pools of
condensed matter from excursions in the aquatic world.
The named oceans are dated, right, left
Pouting, getting better! When they come to — there will be perorations re-
framing rainwater within fairer scents rimming sunlight in suspension, ripped,
Amputated chutes!
Grape vines burst out, nonlackluster. Though I love grime, the force’s guilt-
making — carrying me thru, unphased: Guilt does this to deplete me of hope.
1st choice for a sonnet is to solve for x. Be funny and coalesce.
Dear multiple choices from eternity: Send a message I can wolf down. Convey
a sense of urgency that’s superfluous. Then put force off.
watercolorist anesthesia: Takes my place being places (an event in tropes) —
Meantime, ping. We’re here for discovery via inflection in lap pools of
condensed matter from excursions in the aquatic world.
The named oceans are dated, right, left
Pouting, getting better! When they come to — there will be perorations re-
framing rainwater within fairer scents rimming sunlight in suspension, ripped,
Amputated chutes!
Grape vines burst out, nonlackluster. Though I love grime, the force’s guilt-
making — carrying me thru, unphased: Guilt does this to deplete me of hope.
1st choice for a sonnet is to solve for x. Be funny and coalesce.
Dear multiple choices from eternity: Send a message I can wolf down. Convey
a sense of urgency that’s superfluous. Then put force off.
Monday, November 18, 2019
Sunday, November 17, 2019
You put a question mark after feeling genreless — in a screenplay, it would be a pick
-up line.
There is no personality, only successive time frames, so why beat anyone up? We can read back over found work but never go back to walk the innocent-seeming turret and loggia built by others’ labor, enabling and overlooking our conditional first day together...
-up line.
There is no personality, only successive time frames, so why beat anyone up? We can read back over found work but never go back to walk the innocent-seeming turret and loggia built by others’ labor, enabling and overlooking our conditional first day together...
I’d like to thank the Academy
and ignore X to reinforce ignorance.
To reverse devolution we’ll rush back
to hear more about causality proportionate
to a principle that cannot be considered in terms
like suspension of liberties and financial slaughter.
The impression building is that every financial move serves Euclid’s purpose. Then. A higher purpose according to analysts, in a word, a metonym for dizziness everywhere according to boundless malfeasance, heading toward final devastation.
Oh, tech services, tell us a little more about your miserable ontology affecting checks, balances, and mantra logjams — How did stakeholder views crumble into unlimited resources and potential instrumentality to pantomime the common numerator undercutting American literacy?
and ignore X to reinforce ignorance.
To reverse devolution we’ll rush back
to hear more about causality proportionate
to a principle that cannot be considered in terms
like suspension of liberties and financial slaughter.
The impression building is that every financial move serves Euclid’s purpose. Then. A higher purpose according to analysts, in a word, a metonym for dizziness everywhere according to boundless malfeasance, heading toward final devastation.
Oh, tech services, tell us a little more about your miserable ontology affecting checks, balances, and mantra logjams — How did stakeholder views crumble into unlimited resources and potential instrumentality to pantomime the common numerator undercutting American literacy?
Friday, November 15, 2019
I can’t win, it’s the end of inattention.
More bounce for the retina to unscrew my internal hysteria pouring up but
embarrassing, rocking like breaking news, losing both death and life, dropping your
rogue’s whip down over my heels.
Aren’t we supposed to feed the bad dogs? Yes but summer, winter? Minutes after my work is filed, neighbor’s dogs stand in line for a treat, free rein over the sentence.
More bounce for the retina to unscrew my internal hysteria pouring up but
embarrassing, rocking like breaking news, losing both death and life, dropping your
rogue’s whip down over my heels.
Aren’t we supposed to feed the bad dogs? Yes but summer, winter? Minutes after my work is filed, neighbor’s dogs stand in line for a treat, free rein over the sentence.
Thursday, November 14, 2019
A pulse of light of precise duration = head turns, alternative explanations but none good enough for clarifying experimenters’ state of confusion.
Confusion is rendered official. Firm argument and beta testing of dogma and contradictions, transforming un-gated minds turning toward amplified democracy. Sultry outdoorsmen, sailors, all on deck.
To get back to the cosmos, our taxonomies stand tiptoe atop a few hustlers with ascending ideas, forgetting the battered below lined up on broken mosaics, raw necks pounding from overtime
like ex-royals.
Confusion is rendered official. Firm argument and beta testing of dogma and contradictions, transforming un-gated minds turning toward amplified democracy. Sultry outdoorsmen, sailors, all on deck.
To get back to the cosmos, our taxonomies stand tiptoe atop a few hustlers with ascending ideas, forgetting the battered below lined up on broken mosaics, raw necks pounding from overtime
like ex-royals.
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
Here’s my favorite.
Baking is a big puzzlement of natural selection. The audience rises.
(That is, artisans among the audience rise, impetuous, some from costive stock, unflappably happy, even brusque.)
Somewhere I float in. I’m late for the prom fitting, weeping inside. Funny place
for a dance, Mr Baker.
Baking is a big puzzlement of natural selection. The audience rises.
(That is, artisans among the audience rise, impetuous, some from costive stock, unflappably happy, even brusque.)
Somewhere I float in. I’m late for the prom fitting, weeping inside. Funny place
for a dance, Mr Baker.
Monday, November 11, 2019
Today, my beliefs go unchecked worshiping neutrality (plain v harder) w/in the present gloom of purgatorio as good possibilities blow town, including the best halo effects and feelings. They’ll come back like sight for the blind in the dark.
It’s nice finally to shake the physical world’s geometric hand covering our breathing. Geometry is of nature and sightless throughout. Today, every day open censorship is tangential to being here, right over here, filtered, unfiltered as long as it takes.
It’s nice finally to shake the physical world’s geometric hand covering our breathing. Geometry is of nature and sightless throughout. Today, every day open censorship is tangential to being here, right over here, filtered, unfiltered as long as it takes.
Achilles, what can you do or not do? Are you sitting on the floor
listening ? wearing nothing but
eagerness for a motive to
hear what we were afraid to be?
Foundational bias underpins Achilles’s argument for or against not being sure.
A signature concern throughout the night is the cosmos’ experience. The bigger the better. Peculiarly, one other point — so many writers simultaneously figure out the brute’s foot and heel, studying nature and truth within supposition and guesswork. Achilles becomes enamored of writers turning toward stage experiment and utopic closure.
For then a separation point emerges. Harsh.
listening ? wearing nothing but
eagerness for a motive to
hear what we were afraid to be?
Foundational bias underpins Achilles’s argument for or against not being sure.
A signature concern throughout the night is the cosmos’ experience. The bigger the better. Peculiarly, one other point — so many writers simultaneously figure out the brute’s foot and heel, studying nature and truth within supposition and guesswork. Achilles becomes enamored of writers turning toward stage experiment and utopic closure.
For then a separation point emerges. Harsh.
Sunday, November 10, 2019
I aver I’m writing on borrowed-spores. Again, I don’t know much on pollen, I’m playing
borrowed-writing.
Any point of contention is biting now but my spores go 85, 100; it’s slow. I won’t do more, not even for track officials powered with centrifugal disclosures, facebooked from their past. So forget Neptune,
forget public boasts of triumph — I should add my visual gamut is fast. The instruments surround haves and have-nots of guitar spinning all ways in gelid hilly winds.
Any point of contention is biting now but my spores go 85, 100; it’s slow. I won’t do more, not even for track officials powered with centrifugal disclosures, facebooked from their past. So forget Neptune,
forget public boasts of triumph — I should add my visual gamut is fast. The instruments surround haves and have-nots of guitar spinning all ways in gelid hilly winds.
Your bromide is familiar. Let me text this. You’re gaining attention for the wrong infinite reasons, dummkopf. Stay where you are. Exploit the familiar, even an inkling. Glow fast.
The cosmos is unwilling to go far, now or later, this way or that — what we inhabit is neither a stoner planet nor merely a plywood-and-particulates object flown in time (w/ fewer and fewer court intrigues).
There’s so much history.
Shadow sensory awareness, a chosen medium.
Flowers are em-poisoned by design, grateful astrochemists oozin’ adrenaline
for the audience, saboteurs of the heart.
The cosmos is unwilling to go far, now or later, this way or that — what we inhabit is neither a stoner planet nor merely a plywood-and-particulates object flown in time (w/ fewer and fewer court intrigues).
There’s so much history.
Shadow sensory awareness, a chosen medium.
Flowers are em-poisoned by design, grateful astrochemists oozin’ adrenaline
for the audience, saboteurs of the heart.
We already have what we ask for.
Vainly but not fast in never induce italics:
We gave it up at the Office.
Driving this point is hardly ever for the 1st time
disappearing into immense molecules like our other words, just molecules ago.
Sitting down delivers the good news, stateliness while steering already had its faint say. Now we can text and ‘drive’ over time and zeta functions mowing down hedgerows like highway dividers along an infinite axis.
Vainly but not fast in never induce italics:
We gave it up at the Office.
Driving this point is hardly ever for the 1st time
disappearing into immense molecules like our other words, just molecules ago.
Sitting down delivers the good news, stateliness while steering already had its faint say. Now we can text and ‘drive’ over time and zeta functions mowing down hedgerows like highway dividers along an infinite axis.
Saturday, November 9, 2019
Knowing we live forever like offspring of coordinated affects
He thought about SciFi from the Seventies and Eighties
Fighting the relative perpetual fight to prolong
All of his life as if he were a mercurial quantum
As if meeting death half-way hapless (though deceitful)
The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired
He thought about SciFi from the Seventies and Eighties
As the clay-toned physique turns from the window
Designating it before we understood the beloved’s desires
His coat with the fired bullets, effluvia
All of his life as if he were a mercurial quantum
Temporal as this shitty two-room with its simultaneity
As the clay-toned physique turns from the window
A bright light credited to chimera in a purified labyrinth
At the end of the brightest fluorescent tube
The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired
Fighting the relative perpetual fight to prolong
A silver psycho-mist hung along the streets
A bright light credited to chimera in a purified labyrinth
The luminous tints of reversed decisions, rotating surf
The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired
All of his life as if he were a mercurial quantum
A new missing link held out to her
His coat with the fired bullets in it, effluvia
Temporal as this shitty two-room with its simultaneity
To grow another heart in different tempi
At the end of the brightest fluorescent tube
As the clay-toned physique turns from the window
A silver psycho-mist hung along the streets
Designating it before we understood the beloved’s desires
To grow another heart in different tempi
A new missing link held out to her
The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired
He thought about SciFi from the Seventies and Eighties
All of his life as if he were a mercurial quantum
Going hippie to set a theory born of paradox
A new missing link held out to her
A silver psycho-mist hung along the streets
As if meeting death half-way hapless (though deceitful)
Knowing we live forever like offspring of coordinated affects
Going hippie to set a theory born of paradox
The luminous tints of reversed decisions or rotating surf.
He thought about SciFi from the Seventies and Eighties
Fighting the relative perpetual fight to prolong
All of his life as if he were a mercurial quantum
As if meeting death half-way hapless (though deceitful)
The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired
He thought about SciFi from the Seventies and Eighties
As the clay-toned physique turns from the window
Designating it before we understood the beloved’s desires
His coat with the fired bullets, effluvia
All of his life as if he were a mercurial quantum
Temporal as this shitty two-room with its simultaneity
As the clay-toned physique turns from the window
A bright light credited to chimera in a purified labyrinth
At the end of the brightest fluorescent tube
The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired
Fighting the relative perpetual fight to prolong
A silver psycho-mist hung along the streets
A bright light credited to chimera in a purified labyrinth
The luminous tints of reversed decisions, rotating surf
The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired
All of his life as if he were a mercurial quantum
A new missing link held out to her
His coat with the fired bullets in it, effluvia
Temporal as this shitty two-room with its simultaneity
To grow another heart in different tempi
At the end of the brightest fluorescent tube
As the clay-toned physique turns from the window
A silver psycho-mist hung along the streets
Designating it before we understood the beloved’s desires
To grow another heart in different tempi
A new missing link held out to her
The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired
He thought about SciFi from the Seventies and Eighties
All of his life as if he were a mercurial quantum
Going hippie to set a theory born of paradox
A new missing link held out to her
A silver psycho-mist hung along the streets
As if meeting death half-way hapless (though deceitful)
Knowing we live forever like offspring of coordinated affects
Going hippie to set a theory born of paradox
The luminous tints of reversed decisions or rotating surf.
The enigmatic eaten alive by song layouts.
The strategy goes on because it’s clear.
We have decent rooms and vegetarian board. Living large is a rancorous art. By now I hope you’re opening up to a former way of life stocked with colorations of air as in a plush, intimate drawing room augmented with coarse bouquet. Like Elizabethans, say, we would see there were lots of tulle and offline making of amends. Music sounds an alert for changing before the weekend, uniforms with some breathy, lithe, spooky edge. Thursday.
The strategy goes on because it’s clear.
We have decent rooms and vegetarian board. Living large is a rancorous art. By now I hope you’re opening up to a former way of life stocked with colorations of air as in a plush, intimate drawing room augmented with coarse bouquet. Like Elizabethans, say, we would see there were lots of tulle and offline making of amends. Music sounds an alert for changing before the weekend, uniforms with some breathy, lithe, spooky edge. Thursday.
Friday, November 8, 2019
BF Skinner watches a boy develop — to spy on sleep when he can’t dream... parking lots have a word with him. Children are the future —
Keep them distracted.
And back to you. If you lock your room you can transport anywhere. Ask Caligari. Bright blues in white, a looming sluice through the discomfort zone. Here we go...
I don’t deserve lots of friends like him or you.
Keep them distracted.
And back to you. If you lock your room you can transport anywhere. Ask Caligari. Bright blues in white, a looming sluice through the discomfort zone. Here we go...
I don’t deserve lots of friends like him or you.
Thursday, November 7, 2019
Been holding our tongues. That’s how it works.
Non-interference in charge, an authentic kindergarten where bourgeois language, dance skills and charades get raised and genetic quest is first and forcibly asserted. Working against deadline shaped the last phase of withdrawal from our deadlock with future attributes. Oedipus meantime, our co-founder, targeted a fan like me because of sectarian obligations to familial platitude. The patriarch’s camouflage is in plain view, the better part of tottered winds over centuries-old middle ground.
Non-interference in charge, an authentic kindergarten where bourgeois language, dance skills and charades get raised and genetic quest is first and forcibly asserted. Working against deadline shaped the last phase of withdrawal from our deadlock with future attributes. Oedipus meantime, our co-founder, targeted a fan like me because of sectarian obligations to familial platitude. The patriarch’s camouflage is in plain view, the better part of tottered winds over centuries-old middle ground.
My eyebrow arched, ‘That’s my room when I was a kid,’ I gasped.
The view outside, apples, Fuji oak, null passages in fog; your cheek and forehead are evident. I then moved us to the rubber towel, leaving everything else to chance, a luscious, noiseless bonding. When I put a few highlights on your lips and we drank, it was like no milk ever tasted. All we want now is to grow up in sleep, trust and telepathy.
The view outside, apples, Fuji oak, null passages in fog; your cheek and forehead are evident. I then moved us to the rubber towel, leaving everything else to chance, a luscious, noiseless bonding. When I put a few highlights on your lips and we drank, it was like no milk ever tasted. All we want now is to grow up in sleep, trust and telepathy.
There is no name but then it’s absence and torment. My life is built around sane choices w/ an acceptation of a person, even though in a few seconds, I’m in memory * of that person to come. Haw.
That a fact?
Some don’t hear clearly when one’s “voice” joins others’ to deepen ultimately anonymous expressions of desire.
* The memory part is often vice versa.
That a fact?
Some don’t hear clearly when one’s “voice” joins others’ to deepen ultimately anonymous expressions of desire.
* The memory part is often vice versa.
Wednesday, November 6, 2019
I wish you had taken that job singing of thingness.
Even so, if you could eat only one food for life, what would it be? “Take notes,” you called out.
You were holding back first throbs as you forced another’s from the inside.
I miss the walled city where an operator like me looks up when you arrive at this next step. .
Try to remain calm. I’m going to talk you down.
We’ll take the stairs; the elevators refuse to go with operators in them.
(Ok, you there? Bye.)
Even so, if you could eat only one food for life, what would it be? “Take notes,” you called out.
You were holding back first throbs as you forced another’s from the inside.
I miss the walled city where an operator like me looks up when you arrive at this next step. .
Try to remain calm. I’m going to talk you down.
We’ll take the stairs; the elevators refuse to go with operators in them.
(Ok, you there? Bye.)
After glamour there’s revisionist power. The virus already inside us, wolfed down improv crap we’re pre-wired to reenact or is there a onetime fee?
Radiance now is the lather of capital health. Remember free deliverance?
“What if it doesn’t work. Then what?” The virus works.
In one or any time and place of our choosing: Act gathered.
Ideal love seems a twofold pity, a physician in black, giving value to new ways of relapsing.
Radiance now is the lather of capital health. Remember free deliverance?
“What if it doesn’t work. Then what?” The virus works.
In one or any time and place of our choosing: Act gathered.
Ideal love seems a twofold pity, a physician in black, giving value to new ways of relapsing.
An abject bond forms at birth, delays our death.
There are four ambient music cartels as well: Doggone civilians and industrial dwarfs striking poses with all their operatic powers. De rigueur for now is writing over known injury to outrank putative limits in the mourning of thieves.
I won’t do your religion now, good day. Just piano and voice. Sunken gardens with a fountain of moods for each of Four Graves.
There are four ambient music cartels as well: Doggone civilians and industrial dwarfs striking poses with all their operatic powers. De rigueur for now is writing over known injury to outrank putative limits in the mourning of thieves.
I won’t do your religion now, good day. Just piano and voice. Sunken gardens with a fountain of moods for each of Four Graves.
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
We just saw [a few feet minutes from now, however]
your address changed. We both had done it differently before
you discovered the user charts; the parent corp. was yours before
you took me over. You’re not getting too delirious, are you?
Just for a stretch of language? ... to some extent you’re
lifting me from sleep where I rewrite chain letters you refuse to answer...
Too delirious a stretch, for you?
your address changed. We both had done it differently before
you discovered the user charts; the parent corp. was yours before
you took me over. You’re not getting too delirious, are you?
Just for a stretch of language? ... to some extent you’re
lifting me from sleep where I rewrite chain letters you refuse to answer...
Too delirious a stretch, for you?
He called the youth a positive word.
Reading and living
Ontologically under-simulates his senses. The youth’s.
He should be furious w/ the world w/ dogfood boxes, be
Angry at keyholes, too, w/ their conservative
On-second-thoughts to earnest alignment as his sure timing slips
Under the prowess of floating discourse unquietly
Into apothegms, into sidesteps of fine voice,
“A voice and nothing more.”
Reading and living
Ontologically under-simulates his senses. The youth’s.
He should be furious w/ the world w/ dogfood boxes, be
Angry at keyholes, too, w/ their conservative
On-second-thoughts to earnest alignment as his sure timing slips
Under the prowess of floating discourse unquietly
Into apothegms, into sidesteps of fine voice,
“A voice and nothing more.”
Monday, November 4, 2019
Antinomy in its own time... Something after was pouring out, dazzling its double structure toward filling empty assembled boxes you were bound to organize.
Losing light downstairs. Nonetheless you were rushing then pressing for more optical symmetry. An interim for you, pushing up and out. We got laid before. There is little point now to hold back (or cremate) any fixed melody tonight unless my time grows on trees.
Losing light downstairs. Nonetheless you were rushing then pressing for more optical symmetry. An interim for you, pushing up and out. We got laid before. There is little point now to hold back (or cremate) any fixed melody tonight unless my time grows on trees.
That thing? It’s a slide knot. Or a kind of travel document. We have functional props for digging up emotions and this much-circulated vocabulary of affects.
To learn something about what you mean is to let fine fettle overcome despair, swamp entropy. For a quiet start, take down zero gravity bans. But you don’t keep any larvae. They’re apart. Their cloying song goes out mutely and you feel a need to ache in their baby blue blather, calmly accruing intimacy. Hey —
Never stop prospecting.
To learn something about what you mean is to let fine fettle overcome despair, swamp entropy. For a quiet start, take down zero gravity bans. But you don’t keep any larvae. They’re apart. Their cloying song goes out mutely and you feel a need to ache in their baby blue blather, calmly accruing intimacy. Hey —
Never stop prospecting.
The dharma of learning penmanship is monotonous.
Reënter the Style Of
My Dreams .. Lubitsch films
that don’t exist — here we go — appreciating in value.
Planting ideas (marry me) restores our old faith, popularly
escalating visionary disappearances
where our purchases speak to taking the edge out..
Tiny discourse like this runs late (even when we were kids);
this is my youngest scouring moment
favoring the specimen objective
or other nominal for adult achievement.
Reënter the Style Of
My Dreams .. Lubitsch films
that don’t exist — here we go — appreciating in value.
Planting ideas (marry me) restores our old faith, popularly
escalating visionary disappearances
where our purchases speak to taking the edge out..
Tiny discourse like this runs late (even when we were kids);
this is my youngest scouring moment
favoring the specimen objective
or other nominal for adult achievement.
I joined the Actor’s Guild. Within a week I lost a pound
& my office parties became off-key fantasies. Flutists
scaled for kodo, on a familiar toepath of scents.
Come again, I will say,
thinner tones & soft muscularity are proof
— our brains were being stolen; after
we wandered back home muttering “TV,
TV” — a mildly eccentric suburbia
waiting for an awe-inspiring payday of relaxation
& thickening plots with ‘heavenly touches.’
Time to come? I hoped you might &?
& my office parties became off-key fantasies. Flutists
scaled for kodo, on a familiar toepath of scents.
Come again, I will say,
thinner tones & soft muscularity are proof
— our brains were being stolen; after
we wandered back home muttering “TV,
TV” — a mildly eccentric suburbia
waiting for an awe-inspiring payday of relaxation
& thickening plots with ‘heavenly touches.’
Time to come? I hoped you might &?
Not to arouse undue hearsay, your wellbeing was my concern. It isn’t safe yet. I won’t forget.
And that goes for this gala rehearsal. Proud exclamations to postpone further vaping, advancing a counternarrative for co-stars stepping slowly waving gold torches in flames, pressing the troupe into feeling nervous in observed time.
I was going to say metabolically we’re all for one in suspension
of disbelief, a flipping out scene out of martial arts, sparkling pen-
umbrae, a pro ring barnstorming on top
dicing / re-arranging pushed to extremes,
undanceable “fetishisizations” — yet we’re dancing.
And that goes for this gala rehearsal. Proud exclamations to postpone further vaping, advancing a counternarrative for co-stars stepping slowly waving gold torches in flames, pressing the troupe into feeling nervous in observed time.
I was going to say metabolically we’re all for one in suspension
of disbelief, a flipping out scene out of martial arts, sparkling pen-
umbrae, a pro ring barnstorming on top
dicing / re-arranging pushed to extremes,
undanceable “fetishisizations” — yet we’re dancing.
Sunday, November 3, 2019
$ transfer: I’m asleep.
An only hill / a huge stage
I’ve been searching
Awake most nights, debates that decay:
A clean face in the morning − caped
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light, the best.
When I hear dogs and woods in salt air
Together, like them and like us.
Can you dig a stillness? Can you keep an eye out, the ocean over.
An only hill / a huge stage
I’ve been searching
Awake most nights, debates that decay:
A clean face in the morning − caped
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light, the best.
When I hear dogs and woods in salt air
Together, like them and like us.
Can you dig a stillness? Can you keep an eye out, the ocean over.
Saturday, November 2, 2019
I can’t take vicissitudes. We’re staying in.
This was a no-no but we always do.
New wilderness outdoors tracing a wistful landscape, hum-vacuumed, cuddling
escalations in body movement, ledgers of age. Lucky you and I live on, fudging
abasement in clean confinement serving a purpose within
supernumerary states of being (confined). Nevertheless
gastronomy is to breaking the ice as ‘fucking / sponginess’ is to bacchanals.
This was a no-no but we always do.
New wilderness outdoors tracing a wistful landscape, hum-vacuumed, cuddling
escalations in body movement, ledgers of age. Lucky you and I live on, fudging
abasement in clean confinement serving a purpose within
supernumerary states of being (confined). Nevertheless
gastronomy is to breaking the ice as ‘fucking / sponginess’ is to bacchanals.
Whom will we discover? How?
Do you both laugh? Per rules,
regs of sounding it out, for x
it’s overdue.
You’re back in vertigo yay
yielding authority with no mediary.
Like a minimalist practicing karate high noon
: any of your fix gets exaggerated for good :
What’s this the (x) about?
You say yay. (For x.)
Do you both laugh? Per rules,
regs of sounding it out, for x
it’s overdue.
You’re back in vertigo yay
yielding authority with no mediary.
Like a minimalist practicing karate high noon
: any of your fix gets exaggerated for good :
What’s this the (x) about?
You say yay. (For x.)
Friday, November 1, 2019
Thursday, October 31, 2019
There was a boom in robots once.
It all came about back in 1st or 2nd grade.
And if you invested then, daylight garners you
several that breathe, toting samples of published cook
-ing ontologies, torrents of taste alleged. Memory has it we
don’t have the brains to recall their recipes.
We politely followed them, tho, unwed yet in peace
until we ran into a couple out cold staring thru ice.
Is this bluff for real? one asked with good reason
before the ice covered future grade markers.
It all came about back in 1st or 2nd grade.
And if you invested then, daylight garners you
several that breathe, toting samples of published cook
-ing ontologies, torrents of taste alleged. Memory has it we
don’t have the brains to recall their recipes.
We politely followed them, tho, unwed yet in peace
until we ran into a couple out cold staring thru ice.
Is this bluff for real? one asked with good reason
before the ice covered future grade markers.
Our crash test is named Defens(c)e of Double I.D.
Of course. You.. your desire and I are habits of empire living off the clock, off proceeds, off motion futures from one of each you / each of me, facing the beam.
Earth’s permits are issued for those landed that grow to rue nonphysical properties, if only at times and slightly.
It’s feasible if you keep watching the clocks on board.
Of course. You.. your desire and I are habits of empire living off the clock, off proceeds, off motion futures from one of each you / each of me, facing the beam.
Earth’s permits are issued for those landed that grow to rue nonphysical properties, if only at times and slightly.
It’s feasible if you keep watching the clocks on board.
Role switch. We’re editing a poem for you.
We are not unversed in universal postcard theory. I hear it’s packed with shrill ideology, multivalent intelligence & ultra-experimental conversation. But postcards, my good man, they feel good as marginal surprises.
Less marginal, we, you & I, are writing where the living speak up to the dead, like hushed correspondents in negative space boasting of their willingness to find compromise. The dead always drop the ball. I’m now looking at the limo suv waiting to take us on. By now thinking for the dead is challenging but I have practiced warrior politics a bit. You, too. That’s a fact, just as outlaws & heroes are arbitrarily broken up by the parking arcade & ample doorways out where copy like ours gets re-acquainted with news. & it’s officially sanctioned.
We are not unversed in universal postcard theory. I hear it’s packed with shrill ideology, multivalent intelligence & ultra-experimental conversation. But postcards, my good man, they feel good as marginal surprises.
Less marginal, we, you & I, are writing where the living speak up to the dead, like hushed correspondents in negative space boasting of their willingness to find compromise. The dead always drop the ball. I’m now looking at the limo suv waiting to take us on. By now thinking for the dead is challenging but I have practiced warrior politics a bit. You, too. That’s a fact, just as outlaws & heroes are arbitrarily broken up by the parking arcade & ample doorways out where copy like ours gets re-acquainted with news. & it’s officially sanctioned.
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
Your wardrobe has experienced a resurgence. It’s beaten but you’re breathing through it like an unsettling fad preview in October of what's to come this May. Anyone can see you’re styled. You’re a crusader and victim in the crossfire. You can’t long stomach the fair use of what age plays at. Where’s the surprise in a seeming long time? The mutt of infancy regenerates here; there’s a beginning and there’s an end, don’t fix it. Try to work more. Then do better.
Walk this way. It’s remarkably ambitious, it’s just off the boards, like when water lilies kick off their ‘work’ boots and women rule. Snipers crouch, the explicit idea behind Burberry’s.
Walk this way. It’s remarkably ambitious, it’s just off the boards, like when water lilies kick off their ‘work’ boots and women rule. Snipers crouch, the explicit idea behind Burberry’s.
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
Physicalism (product brand continuity) adapts to schemes (a speed-up in thought control).
Government, absent your liberty, is not that impregnable. As background, your charter is one colorful PROCESS shot. A lethal-to-pallid vassal group locksteps to your scent. You yourself clothed less formally, tame, save motives for eagerness.
And this is what I did not want to say.
There is product on the loose.
Government, absent your liberty, is not that impregnable. As background, your charter is one colorful PROCESS shot. A lethal-to-pallid vassal group locksteps to your scent. You yourself clothed less formally, tame, save motives for eagerness.
And this is what I did not want to say.
There is product on the loose.
Monday, October 28, 2019
Singalong has vaulted to the top of our shared agenda. Shared or snared, just like us. Leaving oversight to environmentalists has a double meaning to off-center the filing (and filtering) systems, other singularities. We have no limits to affirm our denials and retractions. Climate change may not be temporary. We feed our reliance on dire pleasures, earnest plans and, this most generalized I guess, investor interests (Fortune herself) turning back, almost kidding about ‘patching’ some climate potholes.
The seasons like before are morally exigent, shivering in a synthetic valence, coming back, never.
Their thoughts praised us for our purpose —
Scribes were 1st to jot this down — who shall hanker after whom.
Like before, seasons work outdoors among diamondbacks. If you don’t believe me ask them.
In the change-up old seasons are repurposed having lost to conceptual deflation, stratagems. Add the rank
I confer on the notably next available beauty, living in the future,
because that’s how beauty works.
Their thoughts praised us for our purpose —
Scribes were 1st to jot this down — who shall hanker after whom.
Like before, seasons work outdoors among diamondbacks. If you don’t believe me ask them.
In the change-up old seasons are repurposed having lost to conceptual deflation, stratagems. Add the rank
I confer on the notably next available beauty, living in the future,
because that’s how beauty works.
This moon diagram sports a resistant fragrance (our last fill of fish sticks).
Oh you know, almost unhappy
You and I supplemented photographs for objective matter, I recall.
Garland fungus, students from Trinity in the foreground (by an arch to the old dyads).
It’s up to pond structure to model our passivity re-learning the moon
impelled by shore lists off books of birds protecting the hang of it. Everyone
knew that. All the world is transformably alive. A little sick, even unwell,
yet your voice is handsome, calm, also scrappy.
Further down the pillar, my kimono has been entered, explaining prehension, tongue in cheek.
Oh you know, almost unhappy
You and I supplemented photographs for objective matter, I recall.
Garland fungus, students from Trinity in the foreground (by an arch to the old dyads).
It’s up to pond structure to model our passivity re-learning the moon
impelled by shore lists off books of birds protecting the hang of it. Everyone
knew that. All the world is transformably alive. A little sick, even unwell,
yet your voice is handsome, calm, also scrappy.
Further down the pillar, my kimono has been entered, explaining prehension, tongue in cheek.
Search regimes in a slurry, plump, downy evanescing into song. The slurry rises above its affixes and dead gardenias. It’s in its notation. Argon and lithium released — thrown in reverse come fall — trees light up then darken amid writhing lice. Better to heal resentment buried in colossal Orpheus, the spontaneous physique. With his gift of sullen agency compounded and uplit within percussive isolation. A bell!
Don’t care, don’t moan, lie only about what’s vast. One can shrink to be excused. Masking one’s vanity so becomes the challenge clinging to song.
Don’t care, don’t moan, lie only about what’s vast. One can shrink to be excused. Masking one’s vanity so becomes the challenge clinging to song.
Saturday, October 26, 2019
The heart is sore as
Whitman precedes Aimé Césaire. Drink up.
Rationed compliments ensue in secret and bloat under rush-formatted steam (a love poem (one of innumerable), one) aroma
— Accounting disappears like functions of context (starched procedures) —
Procedures where love not being is taught
But fought for in reverse. Freezing one difference.
Physicalism (neural drama) — here we wade slowly adapting to worldly schemes
More fearless (less indiscernible) a cappella — Drink well.
Whitman precedes Aimé Césaire. Drink up.
Rationed compliments ensue in secret and bloat under rush-formatted steam (a love poem (one of innumerable), one) aroma
— Accounting disappears like functions of context (starched procedures) —
Procedures where love not being is taught
But fought for in reverse. Freezing one difference.
Physicalism (neural drama) — here we wade slowly adapting to worldly schemes
More fearless (less indiscernible) a cappella — Drink well.
You may have noticed I write on your face, a kind of praise,
fuzzy & lovely fragrance of roses, choosing you out
of many then forwarding you as backdrop for my dear heart’s old face
We reach some element (full sail) within the (verse) set where perfect
touch is unleashed, and by either/or well taught. But the scenery is
suddenly beyond diagram while the crew is calmed down. It’s approaching nightfall.
There’s a dual nature of ghost anonymity that makes what’s inside us
disappear, a bright pulling apart at the summitry of our escape.
Either/or? My/your silence cheats at hearts —
unless we’re in love to win over all sparkle to figure it out?
fuzzy & lovely fragrance of roses, choosing you out
of many then forwarding you as backdrop for my dear heart’s old face
We reach some element (full sail) within the (verse) set where perfect
touch is unleashed, and by either/or well taught. But the scenery is
suddenly beyond diagram while the crew is calmed down. It’s approaching nightfall.
There’s a dual nature of ghost anonymity that makes what’s inside us
disappear, a bright pulling apart at the summitry of our escape.
Either/or? My/your silence cheats at hearts —
unless we’re in love to win over all sparkle to figure it out?
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