Social progress is in a pickle.  I meant
it goes for cheap and too far in other directions. It’s al  
-most curtains for the prom fitting, a horrible hot mess.  
The shortest path from here ignited by havoc, overworked 
and exhausted tailors.  

Thin dancers are the perpetual winners I guess.  
I wager we scarf the half-eaten take-out on the table. Slashed 40%!

Beginning I was angry buying my first diary-balance-ledger. (Moleskin.) But I learned a lesson.
There was no progress in the interim.
Party management was unleashed. Specialties got molded. Molded like sister drummers and saxophonists playing to masked hostility & indecisiveness backing up inexactitude from what they voiced before the beat took hold.

And there’s no party.

Modesty is unimpressive in itself.  
There’s an either / or for attrition of affects, concision or eyesore.   
And there’s a struggle to housesit too much information.

We have empty form in grizzled perpetuity along with a hip cast 
— super bros strumming harps for a full encore of Zeus Arrhenothelus  
Bringing up larger drama for the stretch and preen in uncanny vigilance —   
 
Fall back, breathe out while other cast members get authenticated —  
Casually removed or   
 
Restored at a slight remove, since they are imprinted with manifold waves.  
Love’s fire took heat and darkness, as most 3rd-dimensionalists will tell you, like most vacuum ..

154: Once asleep I’m sick of love, disarming love; I’m diseased, too hot a votary of yours.

I’m sick and so I take a vow to a life of heart-inflaming desire — never touching you..
Trompe l’oeil conditions I now know approximate maiden hand abstractions.. (tripping
..each true heart taken up hot as a brand) ..and so well inflaming we can grow

our mind and body worship by your side, worship un-quenched, a general practice that warms us before perpetuating our healthful belief system. Or

do we prove a chaste remedy never cools, but heats our hearts for the cure?

Nval voices wake me up.  
It’s too embarrassing   
 
pulsing in a deep mirror,  
light rain to snow performing butoh.  
 
(Ethical and mammalian boundaries pertain.) 

There’s something I haven’t told you, I  
am passionate about what’s right in front of me. Durante degli Alighieri.  
 
We’re in scandalous terrain prone on a couch eating donuts —  
that, anything like that could send us home, hungrier,  
 
shoulder to shoulder, our emotions subsided into idiot access  
and the purity of night blindness. It’s  
a glow in seconds before another avalanche, fun and explosive. Wow.  
Or like a buddha machine in no-now. Then  
 
a chosen toothbrush has been abandoned. I’m forgetting about it.  
 
I’ll be moving out soon. Moving thru a lefty runoff.  
I won’t be funny or try, relax or specify the ...  
 
I only know self-reconciliation doing this puzzle, this I finished yesterday.  
 
But I’m always coming back, no angst, to it! 
familiarly strange and pleasant, yet  
 
I’ve lost myself in its new geography.. Thanks.

Juniper my ass.
The juniper stands alone, the mixologist often says, when prayer behooves those who talk but no longer pray. I hope you are happy. Don’t be sad. Grab a good one. 
That’s an outline. 

Reprobates — with a kill-agenda — are tickled into corruption. 
Here is the place you and I may detect the language driver, untidy and young, deliberate despite the foundational rule of no rule     
 
And speaking up without permission. In other words,    
 
Sin gets somewhere then stops. The wind withers our good looks.    
 
In the mentalist version we grow inner living language over — to pillory hindsight.

Whom do we know? We have functional emotions and this much-traveled vocabulary of affects. 
To learn about what you mean is to let high jinks belie despair over entropy and plenty of subspecies.  
For a quiet start, you don’t get to keep larvae. They’re apart, wise in their ways. Their cloying song goes out as middle of the road, yet you feel a need to ache in their baby blue blather, calmly accruing intimacy. Hey — Never stop exploring.  
 
We’re in, in a word, species intermission.

Add your touch and everyone you touch, everything you see, surplus sounds and less dustup as you walk or straddle any surface, fielding all pangs as well as faculties for balance, angle of toes and feet, tastes and smells, obscure motions, textures, feelings from everything so far. Bring that..

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

the boat’s cortex holding out ..

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

I’m lying about the lies I’m telling.

To be a critic I went to hell with you (universal reach). 
You gave me hiccups back then, up to floor six. Now my senses are restored. An unoccupied mind long overdue.  

And I’m back in my vertigo seat, reading over and writing disciplined boilerplate, fond of mnemonics. Why worry over explanations?  
 
To explain is to run up against narrative: actually a proxy measurement, one affected by all other expressions of interest over time.

Rationed compliments ensue in secret, bloat under rush-formatted steam unfeasible to undo, 
A process where accounting disappears like functions of context (procedures) —   
 
Physicalism (neural meditation) adapts to causing amoral schemes  
More fearless (less indiscernible) a cappella — Travel well.

I personally maintain a liberal, apolitical lexicon one more time, nearly. 
The place is firmly democratized, monsieur. Once at the beginning info had its own histories. Any entanglement seemed and was interpenetration among important parallel scenery et cetera running this terminology.

(Someone asked me to float a tremor phonemic as old style bait.)    
  
That’s the sound and meaning dust flecks skim from the top while our so-named public face makes its living, almost kidding and choosing your chest, shoulders and hands to precipitate my clemency.   
  
What kind of government overthrow takes parliament  
maneuvers more lightly?

Combustion and dust spores filling avenues becoming identical, your honor. People take shelter in ice cream convenience stores, then bolt for the subway, running with asinine language (you can’t call it dialog). Ugly apartments. Life-draining clothes. New affections. Highly recommended. 

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

The work-together bellows decoherent forms we assemble — Random instances from a momentary lineage we’d overlook otherwise. No proof required, especially. A range of conversations whooped into uncluttered opinion, dedicated sentences. 
 
A flaming kitchen to heat pizza.  
(more below...) 
We’re imprisoned to reach our market — 
 
Otherwise, normal project staff on the roof, smug in taut outfits and at the top of their game, which is synchronized, perforated by breaking news, jumping bail.

Feeling comfort in disruption is one point. Together, we define entire affability arcs in ironic laughter, a series of slippery zoning disputes. Two points or more (identical in all respects).

Any abstract attitudes are buried below our gestalt-like, collective strip-down (the whole of reality) to the ashen stem cells of relatively, unspeaking as tho history was a set of realities.
Body-snatching, the third point is you and I have a multi-reality to join the others, since our lives are directionless in Rose County. Good night, ensign.

Good night to expose an accident or two that don’t matter, made tactical as we circumvent a few exchange elements, remaking spatial morality into chance agency, no vision, no dash, no longer having to know.

I’ll taper our next soirée with visually inevitable things and select for keen gameness. Today a deep-seated specialist would work with genres and approximately autonomous forms and contemplate the significance of staying interdisciplinary; I see. Um, ok, yes, ma’am. I’ve misspelled some signs. 

I have not fulfilled norms set by low probability. (Politics and the dignity of appearances don’t mix.) Judgmentally I keep on an even keel, I cry when it becomes subsequent. I credit everything on the surface without a message. But now — I say, drink up.

When struck a lightning rod emits a ballet of dust and after that a solution, a chemical substance that recuses itself and turns over in our thoughts as a cognitive coloration, a hint there’s commotion in the back of what matters. What matter is. What is who is loved.

77: Blank careers show mind games refereed in stealth. When you’re on my mind I look to a future far from realia (real ‘work’!) or at minimum, I feel enriched, taking our profit as clear progress toward eternity. Vacant. Precious minutes wasted, often both urbane and in bad taste, I whisper to myself, falling for your acquaintance.

Spacetime. Slash pauses.
Totally never-in, our keyless Platonism won’t stand up as practice /
not while evangelic angles of light are making a fracas taking us home.
Vaccinated, I have a merciless itch.. what is this collapsed satori we travel into?
Other instances of ourselves / Passing the “casting

of cities,” thinking past us. Way past.
A normal 2 years B-4 messing with U. Why wait?

I’ll hold back. Not go down. 

This is in response to the commerce-vectors coursing through your brain drenched in pop concepts. Thinking like yours brings unique comfort to support our position in the food chain, which is always in dispute. 

I adhere to the same late-filing rules as you. We are keepers of years every night. 

I’m a novice enthusiast. And.
Art is theft all right. Years from now. 
Th en, inscrutably I’ll never break down and cry.

...pleasure before horticulture, that your vox?
For the poet today / art administrator, hissy fits of modesty are supposed to impress, yet they seem too easily swept up or vacuumed from the floor.

A year of taxes and you’re a neo-accepter of excess, but then again you’re a pragmatist (empiricist), viewing, accordingly, being particles of pink turtlehead, coneflower, Joe-Pye weed, twinleaf, wild bergamot, beardtongue, foamflower, downy yellow violet.

Omniscience is officially sanctioned conjecture. So your modesty dissipates as the evolution of disquiet is cutthroat, a mob of arrivistes and custodians.

[for John W]

To a friend in good faith:

Pausing to look at poems, two tomes.
That’s how you toned it down.

In faith I’m divided / confused. I signed 
up. The acoustics can’t be imitated much,
without prior disclosure. Fielding skepticism
makes your fame hard to harrow.
Also a drumbeat for every dataset — top finds, semantic frames
& bons mots, good & loud so the workspace hears them 
& feels them in phases throughout your paschal hush.

They circulate the flowers — up to now they have many words for it

but it’s fielding skepticism that’s making money harder to borrow. Clenching-tight,
abandoning death with approximate language, Yamaguchi says.
Wigs pick up, driftwood gets epigrammatic, upsides unrelated, pale, immaculate.
The sky has its style, subject for close attention. They said.

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

But it does not impinge on the field.

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


Heavenly and new, classic and easy, unforgettable facts that are fiction to our surrounding revenge for taking off, fawning over / upon you, buttoned up and respectful in everyday nudity. For nudity is earned, commanded by your eyes. It’s always a swing reunion in the etiquette of cosmic expanse, a whole new side of staying special and hollow at center, a vacuum in motion on wheels.

Informality keeps the host busy — maximum stress & refined inelegance.

Doo-wop’s creepy; let us through;


We’re sort of gifted — ok,

This is house arrest.

Inessential consequences of my behavior are writing.
I’ve got a pet name for my tongue. A jerk.

Surely as there’s a drumbeat in the heart of theoreticians, there are lightweight near-truths about their achieving access to felt qualities.
Jerks’re brusque. Their new job title, urgent. More house to watch ahead for sober handlers of airedales w/ no equity motives. But I’m underhanded getting to axioms we can manipulate;

no right, no wrong?

or / & like crustaceans you & I give in, to forgetfulness, according to an eclipse.

Our gabfest takes place over the fields for each of us in the multiverse
up in a weather balloon holding beef jerky.

So a redraft prompts special inquiry, tho tentative, after all meaning of structure. Putting it in a memo, we sleep with a relationship. It’s not an investigation but inquiry. Rough seas but you’ve been on deck long enough, you know how we leverage missing you at a time when it’s least expensive. Data diving. I’m happiest procrastinating, indexing suspicion and objurgating..

After glamour there’s revisionist power, a legacy inside us. Wo- 
lfed down improv crap — we’re pre-wired or is there a fee? 
Radiance now is the lather of swing. Remember deliverance?  
 
“What if it doesn’t work. Then what?” Everything works. 
In any time and place of our choosing: Act gathered, nothing there.  
 
True love is a physician practiced in arts of relapse.

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

This is off season & with these swabs we are free to cut nothing down.
Not even a con anarchist.
Under pre-season conditions, a mad(wo)man’s or tyrant’s thoughts wash over time —
For starters: Does one test, tease, defame to extract the best from competition?

& the answer in another season whenever that is if ..
.. is it time or times?

A parrot’s vocal cords give way to multiple conjectures. You’re really that tall? There is no wrong answer. Your current salesman voice sports a staggering pedigree, too late to make it sparse.

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

Toward an ecology of reading and writing tho only six hours have gone by.
Of course to go thru the I-novelization is sticky. The I here spent school years as a stealth pathologist dealing ‘live data.’

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

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

hustling all the time, awesome!

Realizing my dream performance in “Fidelio” 
I am touched by everyone now alive,  
softest jazz, lower right, his lips moving up, down,  
talking design shit. Another’s naive mirror goes up for sale, for example.  
His father’s image contains everything he knows. How can a bantam weight =  
feigner? his son asked over the mirror phone.   
 
Dad’s book is staring out the window, saved-up.  
Amusing I suppose. With regard to static and its ovoid, stasis  
in a compulsive battle over the ultimate smiley face —  
it’s not just who grinned first that counts, but also where  
and how. This’s my tongue giving his lips a brush up  
realizing my dream performance in “Fidelio.”

It’s a classic knife-in-sui-generis. 
 
Parts of the world face streets whooshed by furbishing impurities of state.  
The carport reflected in this point is perched high above subatomic attitudes of state, people using facebook for subject matter, like wusses.   
 
There’s an end note for people who are sweating attitudes.   
 
One polishes the text and hands it in.

Lilac is a devoted zest. Then it plummets into difficulty. Here we are, talking about it. 
*

To commune sounds handsome, also calm, also a bit bendy. In the same call he reverses prerogatives — or his voice does. (I’ll table the difference. Each.) 
“Cloven, we are incorporate... ” 
His message mixed but never better aligned. Together, all across our call center (our hideout), learning the ropes, perusing scraps and parts of hope.  
 
No fins of infinity. Nope.   
 
Halloween patterns clenched exponents where attachment is rimmed.  
 
We have no major issues.  
No shady aftermath inter-scope.   
And to think a way out, we can blur the ground and yield authority to a bowl... really a vase. Sit and watch dogs turn smoky brown tracking vans in drizzle, tarnished from sight, playing against a stack of storm windows, within a composure for light a translator can’t reach.

Concision in detailing method is a catamaran of process.

This is how morning began.



Getting there we wait in long lines for Twain. The Thai are hardly speaking. I turned to a companion and asked if he was interested in how poetry’s put together.
He thought about pure things as style surrounded by syntax. All at once.

The door to the exchange left ajar.

Fizzy purviews haunting what hang around winning samples from The Inferno. Fizzy as a wave beating thru my eye.. Resonant, structured improvisation vibrates thru volumes of time. I’m chatting up my repressed side to save us from scrapping our early decisions. The charge is to fail to remember the exchange.

Granted on a more personal note, I maintain a liberal, apolitical esthetic for one more time.
The place was firmly democratized, sir. The beginning seemed and was
interpenetration among important parallel scenery et cetera running this. Tomorrow will mete out facts to impel more comfortable indeterminacy — for now anxious telepaths, minus me, rush nimbus-wet in devotion to their next decimal of the scenery. This might be why we’ll read over the presentation, juggle a few heads

and let you know when.

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

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

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


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

Refrains in descending order of indefensibility...



(a) Poetics is democracy.
Ablative evasion throughout autocratic poetics, as in general prose, foregrounds style, motive, subjects for closer attention.


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

*  
1) 

Reading back: Defense owns — there seem — accents — these: 
such on put days, our 
moving and light, puzzling in place 
of morning winter smiles .. a chorus 
Emerges which on canvas .. 
noises w/ filled silence .. 
*
2) 

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

This could have been a sonnet for all lit bares within
visual poetry. I never use that word now.
In better versions through algorithm, pathos =
appropriating outsourced research.

A nonempiracal approach compels argument where I’ll...


I’ll try for an overweight blunt invention
of the non willed state, or what some call civil


efficacy for streamlined intake. Soak up the view.

There emerge big panels observing basketball’s behavior.

No more can be threatened during silence at halftime (the sleep aisle). Fever, ague, intemperance, neurasthenia, the flu, the common cold, all would be otherwise more alarming.
So the panels keep watch and discover galvanizing their technologies turns overall survival into phenomenal physicality conforming to laws of odds, enhancing their final four values.

Until done,  
factor in visual plug-ins for calisthenics, just a load off the mirror.   
 
Artisanal resonance turns into reflections out of which you can finger-point to the horizon,  
 
magnified and now askew, flaking off. So note what happens. 
Yeah? A soar sport. 
 
Soar and insert the bonus and exchange — what do you know!  
Tongues, clean up to your neck — radiant  
 
  patterns, your drain pipe a phenomenal factoid that can end  
in a draw sustained by   
getting up, stretching for another solar system.

I’m new to housecleaning compared to you.
That’s how we have 2 arrays for work time & harmony
when we’re doing it.

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

heated inference, compressed form, a ‘crown’ of contradictions
veer dimensional rhetoric to here with you.
Our capital is redeemable, since our must-haves change directions and they’ll barely pertain, and why should they? What’s on our minds will be low on the must list, even lower than that. Off list.

Here’s another centerpiece to explain how flowers are cut in plurals like progressions.
Iconoclasts count on progressions in a series, along with any allure of falling cornices
(they did).
Literally nothing was granted.
But it’s a poem.
Now months later, it’s good news
Also, since you wait to listen, not empower others.

Everything belongs hiding in plain sight, fallen unhinged, no limits. Not a one is
the point... an ornamental one; our brain / body fiber pierced 24/7, point two...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Complaints and sworn declarations, 
I forget missing you. 

— since we have a method for choosing paroxysms, don’t expect me after all.  
 
Even if we kiss later, it saddens one to inform the boss  
You’re not serious, never are.  
 
You we’re turning state’s evidence holding on to meet  
                     even newer phenomena. (The ‘stolen parts’  
To run over.) Any & all mayhem coming unannounced (achieved)  
Or root causes won’t since you & I separate thru flexible equations.  
 
Already saying goodbye takes us far up the jet trail! quelling fear of want-
Ing pain. You never can tell. I won’t.

To paraphrase ... you can’t predict 
How or even what you’ll be taking from your background experience;  there are too many of you.  
 
Favorite singers reradiate the calmative afterlife attached to having sex.
Learned consensus becomes early performance; both puerile in the present tense,
the deep pitch shows up invisibly,
unspeakably, as libido constitutes foreknowledge, glistening aimlessly.

Bruise will stop by later. 

We innovate through suppression.
Blushing is breaking news. 
One time I was inconsonant. Or.. 

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

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

And all of us now are blown up by
Errors of replication.

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

Angst roughens up indulgence. 
You knew the side effects —  samples twisting. 
We’re 1/2-
there. That’s when the aliens evanesce.  
Their excruciating loneliness
smothered during rifle practice.. swimming in a freezing  
basin, weeping .. piling on debt ..

Poésie still kneads morals.
Authors, old timers, freely consume their own slapstick
when there’s a conceptual contingency to max, along
with requisite ethical structure to examine one’s taste level.

Now you know what to expect.

You can’t put limits on free-lance exuberant leisure
within a theoretical commune of vengeance..
Smart money on the one stiff up against the writing board.
The staff on ethics sit this out, blood-soaked inside, shaking.

O sure.

The so-so aria met expectations. You all right?

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

There’s a title for most any time lapse. Stick around.
This sentence shows why we reserve dopey incongruence for fill-ins.
‘When you put it that way I can’t complain.’
Dodge the bullet, I’m only impeaching you, you all right?

For sure, memetic physicists of staticity say
In their notes on the adjunct spectacle filling in 

For the outdoor performance, along normative outcomes wherein smirks press on toward the sidewalk — drizzle would hurt if verbal but it’s only wet & visible as a short, stout white truck rolls under the haze, Kia-like, choked in a soft, fluffy diorama. 

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

You’re kissing me into the future, leaving 
Circle-K muzak, oblivious to your battered carapace.. well..  
 
Really, we get down to heaven  
In that bucket? I can’t see the bridge,   
 
Only the genetic outline that subdues us  
As we see through what we feel.

“A solid base” cited in the last run of artificial greetings, foaming — I do not have an official license to rein it in.

It’ll be there where I leave it — under a trope for downward spikes in bonhomie —

In bed the U.S. landscape descends from clarity.
It then collapses, watching disaster tv,
volume off, pitching surplus services and dumped goods.

From time to time snow


sees its bodyweight in snow,

a pound of snow sticking to an inexplicit diet (mirror neurons) —

A mirror packing new snows bound into blue purple columns..

moving in throngs and suddenly

creeping faster, loosening and nettling snows to toss and shake 
over..
acting like quadrapeds pacing upon fresh snow.


Straddling an hour snowing, melting in snow

clouds connecting two wet hooves in frost.
18,000 years later, cicadas are in their rooms.

I’d like to thank the Academy  
and ignore X to reinforce ignorance.   
 
IT warned me of overrefined emblems and their sweeping reproach. Can I have a parochial amen? I’m not religious. Nor are you. But I took note of what you like from the beginning. I had a few ideas in mind divorcing you.  
 
Oh, tech services, tell us a little more about your miserable ontology affecting checks, balances, and mantra logjams — How did worldviews crumble into unlimited environs and potential instrumentality to pantomime the common numerator undercutting American literacy?

Or composition et al. change.
A frayed honeymoon was a pleasure, felt normative.
Pleasure gets exaggerated but there are three pleasure substitutes. Here’s one, an itch to borrow sentences to raise one’s consciousness.

Another is coming up with filaments like attrition of affects (watching the watch).

Third, after a honeymoon deflections accrue.

It was great being with you.

Or was it just me?
Like manners of ambiguity?
To buy her lipstick.

*

You seem spacey in snow

When you make angels.

Hiding for two hours snowing



Against the snow you’re really spaced out ...

My position is rebirth rough-rides over what we were saying. It’s not safe to lounge at home without saying oh, wait this is done ..

I refuse if I don’t want to ...

Another matter is to structure new designs for physical combat.

I’m robust in my motives while the open field fills with sumo shapes fighting an analogous fight to operate on one another.

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