I went into analysis alert. The regulars 
bear shame? Faces change when they use 
my words; plus you’re so close,
 for a change we’re all about to bail out —
 why are we even arguing!
The argument, from a Darwinian datum, comes as a warning: Eye contact reinforces civility that lowers game energy.

The sun is glossy beige. Divided, confused, I
signed up for a summer of love. The desserts are
sweet, their force takes me out of bounds
for more interludes on the double.
I’m not perfect, I’m on an every
day regimen with that living unlocked smell.
I set the controls — active ingredients are
soon not now, don’t. First thing prithee
Noonish. I have a profane vocabulary;
I’ve been blocking myself but it’s over. I’m directional.
My head weighs 10 pounds.
Hold my earrings.

I’m always wrong to prolong my appeal. One never wears a watch, for instance.
Random throws predict behavior. (Innocence
conceals its pyrotechnics, not intent.)

Innocent algorithms infuse ideology, organize perception.
Life naming sex. That would be a big jump in no progress.

Sulking with a hygienic view forward,
The small of his back sends you packing.

I thought about not sharing my place, I might leave a negative impression —
— on an Old Testament, I pledged a wholly hidden idiom of renderings, spotlighting what’s
Missing!
The cracks should be bridged with the soft scape outside, pears and Fuji oak,
Null passages in fog, moos of approval.

I then bring us over to the rubber towels, leaving everything else to chance.

Why make so much of semen here and there a tear-down or butterfly?  

Or stains, residue on the wall, again, about to be torn down. Or blown up? In fact the loft apartment downstairs has already been stripped of its facings for the twenty-sixth time! Sounds philosophical.
What is first cause?

Allowing no pleasure from coercion, crossing heights
Pleasure was called because of rain; I’m sorry it spat.
(I'm sorry it was heavy rain for you back then.)
Yes. And your voice tends towards stridency.
Good point, epistemically empty. I’m sorry thru this text,
Allowing no preclusion of experience for
Grouping words or corroding on
Syntactical beings (in a sentence).

Open mic. Didn’t I tell you? Off 
squatting in nourishing overview, there’s one vulgarity  
Of a deceptive simplicity  
in love as well as pride, duplicity.   
 
Thing is one boyfriend keeps faith  
better than others, believing neither.   
 
Separated from a source of meditation, let’s call it, you’d be sad.  
The source is not sad. One separated from the source is.  
 
Or it’s that obvious.  
Sadness is not itself.

Male muses —

— the vulnerable and most maligned muses were not held enough as children on a moonscape of beaks. Ever notice? Certainly I wasn't. Now I have to make excuses for friends of mine buried below their own animation with no heirs.
They’re donning synthetics, seeming only half familiar, and just too intense, plundering the transport of their ambience. 

And I was musing, simple stuff picking up a pen.

Noir is for life. 
In America, of all places!

Doggie style is mirrored information. It is.

Sing:  
 
“Stages of violence yearn for a neck of the woods.  
Conditions look dispersed — beeping you (did I?),  
not out of calculation; it began how far vast  
signals liberate you to oppose facts,” we sing.  
Or writing et al. give  
in. 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 = sore moods.  
 
Third, after a honeymoon deflections accrue.

The quartet could be on a formal mission; higher  
up, the mission’s part doodle / part disassociation  
as a voiceover to operate humanely,  
stacking ideas like alembic tubes that mate  
over magnets. Tubes lit with disentanglements.  
Prayer in all directions.

I sleep where I work. A company like ours takes it into several physics facilities. 
We’re in the flat present tense, multiple account outlines in concurrent perception 

Reciting new slang exponents to snag and support 
Two syllables of love while we scout flyweights in the recursive landscape.

*

Prayer behooves you, it often says. Prayer for those who talk shite no longer pray. I hope all are happy. Don’t be sad. Grab a good one. 
That’s an outline. 

Check list. 
A shrine of axioms supposes its completion, honing everyone to the surface.  
Late afternoon to another. 
 
Look over the bill. Check it out. Don’t expect much  
unless you’re read in on the scheme. 
 
* 
His language hits a conference-gong, theological as Lyotard would have it. The argument is plainly empirical. A concept moves thru the mind, “not ‘innovative’ .. but something unheard of” 

— Tony Brinkley

To paraphrase ... you can’t pixilate  
How or even what you’ll be ripping off from the background;  
MoMA in the original shifted genealogy,  
Different period shifts changing contexts for us;  
We both wore black Lacostes.   
 
When you got up your voice was after a drawing  
 
Vibrating w/ a head cold, falling  
Flat in 4 dimensional motes.   
 
Downtown and dust was everywhere 
Where-is-he-now knows what he said.  
 
Vibrating = Sturm und Drang, pursuant  
Dust controls anger / how our minds wed.

You on the chair, others. No denying denial 
— you could do more  
with baseball bereft of ritual.

Fans’ voices in yourselves are central, soloists 

outside public domain, no honestly earned run status
yet privately shocked at your own fire 
& swing.

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

I’m issuing samples of time and opinion.  
An interpretive opera w/ local accents 
I listen for sample definitions:  
It’s a question of escalating to inhabit received logic.  
I’mretracing what I think I see, why yes, I’m 
Concentrating on song additives, naming the obvious,  
Oblique sounds patrolled in symmetry
 
Pushing the most patent among broken arts,  
Tai-chi of slanted states w/ meagre influence. 
 
My sample cologne is also unbranded  
Leading me into phenomenal directions, infinite ignorance.

I added frontal motion to the story about those looks of yours that intimidate, m’lord. 
Visual surprise comes with an infrequent snow flake or embers 
floating down to our nose level. That’s cool — creamed just for dating you, blackmailed —   
 
wandering into the new wrong murder guild  
 
chopped into little squares of hypnotic drumming  
 
and massive pulses projecting smiles and feeling 
invisible. Totally insane. M’lord’s libido.

His language hits a conference-gong, theological as Lyotard would have it. The argument is plainly empirical. A concept moves thru the mind, “not ‘innovative’ .. but something unheard of..” 

— Tony Brinkley

*
Check list. 
A shrine of axioms supposes completion soon, honing everyone to the surface.  
Late afternoon to another. 
 
Look over the bill. Check it out. Don’t expect much from an ism unless you’re read in on the scheme.

You have kind eyeholes.

What comes of Wieners’ marquetry?

A clay-toned jouissance* returns to land 
shedding light tints in reverse of rotating surf.
Ya, he is important. Joy has free play while parody affixes inky eels beneath his poverty, evoking retreat and nighttime, slurping undertow from the beats.

You want to get fiery 
to include the cosmos. 

But there is a hairnet over the situation. 


Inner retreat. 
*However, when we single ourselves out, we get close to guilt reformulating sublime fears of exclusion. Immense hard line purging tho brings on jouissance, scrubbing any direct polarity. 

It’s powerful to give names to one’s feeling. 
*
“I don’t like it, and I’m sorry I ever had anything to do with it.”
I tend to have to agree with you.
* 
So, Buddha tells me you’re a baby  
And one has to destroy one’s world to get back to yours.   
 
Not easy, not hard but
Unhappiness results from our word abundance  
Within specialized contexts.

Core harmonic structure:
you can’t hold back the lucid diver cum astronaut from boyhood... 

Ask why we find this grueling & meaningful.  

We love how duty calls on our astro — always a nonesuch scenario.
  
 
What’s under water?  
Nobody claimed even a half shell of insight 
 
 
— later I ran into you on hallowed ground; lanterns swayed. 
& there go our constrictions for the entire season of love & a welkin of amenable interruptions!  
Here’s how we work — It’s not fun, it’s infinite work   
 

as I was saying lanterns were swaying.

Doggie style is mirrored information. It is.

Photons rebuild the world, leaping out of windows  
Moving in our direction with startling humility and alacrity..  
 
Here I am as genealogies of photon futures file off.  
Rebuilding one future there’s a verb tied to esthetics that numb.   
 
I’m the underdog here, emotionally maligned as an amalgam channel  
-ing of normal volatility, sleep, hope, and telekinesis that submit to questioning.  
Photons?  
Can we turn to steel?

The normal exec in a large academic corporation by the highway grows up, studies medicine in a flash forward, and works for Strategy Foundation, a company that parses guilty pleasures around the world. She or he doesn’t dream now — 
not any need. One becomes an energy therapist, and keeps rabbits. You see doctors learn how to say what no one wants to hear. “You sure of that? You sure those were your rabbits?”

We’re fidgeting, minding our conceits, 
lit by mid-sentence clarity, sporting and alway Floridian —  
we’re in an enclosure with no pulpit, without dogma...   
passageways to enter then exit like work in progress   
spreading out in willful overloads of language design —    
  
Skilled decor, de-simplified, notional mime  
in contretemps between science and who knew?   
ironic technologies with no precedent —   
a corporate hold across a matrix of manners and adaptations, restrained praxis   
and hermetic syntax.    
  
Nice beachfront. Amuse our ears and eyes: why so few   
and fewer bonds with semiotics doubting itself (if only a little)   
— it seems an absurd referent and then less   
off-rhyme. 

We are a color of cunnilingus. I noticed, tho, you and I applied for
pharmaceutical assistance, an oscillation gelatin called Sparkling Affront.
Nothing is more or less than arabesque, forgetting our place in the secret order: in epic hock to our hips. 

Our temperature raises the magnitude of repetitions into an after-life or its meandering dissolution.

Massively cool but no gracias. This is tomorrow.   
 
Rescinding our directive, we constitute the flown-the-coop  
group taking part in I-hate-new-calculus for speech acts ..   
 
We win door prizes in the periphery   
 
if we let politicians get wild   
 
losing the meaning in moving sands over topsoil and forgetting about it — 
Tasting shale, we met tomorrow’s challenge to avert further questions.

An emanation is a specter brought up a peg. Just to clear things up for us, you or me. 
I’ve moved to a new couplet.  
 
Enticement entails the fewest specters impossible to imagine. 

So I’m passive but I don’t believe in spooks. Here’s the outline.   
 
A few strings were pulled to get me in this new factual place with wraiths I would never have chosen myself.  
 
I’m here. 
Shall times’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid  
maintaining a competitive smile for a maxillary edge you own only if you go overboard.   
 
No, I may not be deep enough; loose alliteration masks that.

* milk skin therapy rallies across the Atlantic, redemptive and with slivers of compulsive nourishment, some rousing start to en plein beauty. It’s a trap, why were we going? Why, it’s easier to French-kiss over Europe, more natural to pose — here, especially in our best schools, we repeatedly set it up — an instagram in asterisks.

You read for some, sex is immediate, overwhelming, terse and decisive — A thousand and one friends back in the city in a boil .. polka boats like dots at sea, you said. 
This is a loose translation, drawing on elements of your life before you planted yourself here. 

You. You. How was it to record the voicetrack for an unscripted movie? Was it like reading from a retrieval search with data trees leading to nebulous, chaotic deculturalization?

Here’s an envelope of moods. Statement enclosed.   
I’ve highlighted failures in the box where you select the sorrow you used to have, breaching tall, athletic-like aromas.   
  
Speaking of like, make your counter statement gripping shadows on a glacier.  
I own these two-way ideas, to scale.   
They keep adding up. And I have no modesty issues, none detected, fewer and fewer policy goals.   
  
Soon we’ll relax our balance to parry matter (or perhaps anti-matter) that once seemed clear enough, but not now, here we are...    
  
like two radical vapors, untitled moods.

I’m a bad judge of character. I just shoot.  
Having a Bud with you.. 
my rage came to a bend..   
 
Holy moly, there’s a way to pay for it!  
There’s strength in staring at a bug zapper, attracted  
to light, staying competitive.  
Haste is the suave part of RSVP;
Earth is spanked all over 


for snap love — now on the mouth. 

Desire set sex’s depth 
once making it shattered again into loving arts —   
 
guzzling bottled water before you came to mind, then effectively passing 
thru the park, streets,   
 
I roll now to hold your bearing that moment   
 
I kissed a cat. Once.   
 
Once out of death  
I wrote on otherness when down (“I’ve stopped looking”) otherness came.   
 
What’s the worst that can happen? Love’s twenty times its own weight,  
enclitic in almost meaning. 

As ‘you learn to draw, remind yourself...’ the brain is said to resemble Chuck Norris. Interesting esthetic, not fatal — Chuck or a funny bone goes for merciless. Really his movies remind me of marigold & allegiance to the ice ants swarming the ozone as I look away — The earth is not the earth, but it has strength and balance and Duma unanimity. Each winter corrupts the exterior.... poplars attaining their ultra field and stream, doing a job shunned by most, showered with tips.

To be unmarried
Where the sky went: 

A bright debate — where eager heartbeats bore in, grateful prenuptials stampede out, 


Drawing youthful bounds along dark areas of propaganda 

And owing to your interest... this won’t constitute a sacrament. 
Or only one of many as noted by a non-religionist. 
Misogamy’s terms are to settle down through the evening. Your proud examples 

Gain longterm advantage spreading the yet-not-yet plan.

Passport: 
There is no absolute diva in me. 
Just power events, long slotted within 
stewardship & deity symbols 
until all of us (The What-If Losers) get to take up 
residence at the commercial registry for happiness
— taking nano-physics lessons from master- 
slaves of Duran Dorian Grey, the once-earl.

Yes chaos no.
We’re in charge, we’ll stay here. And while anyone can stumble and a few slip into reduced circumstances, the failure to consummate redeeming fellowships is no problem. Repeat deferment is strategic, and there’s a sequel. We keep the sweetest for now, that is, we’ll keep the best of what life is, the youngest males, females, un-perched, close to our pulse. We can poke them tenderly like endangered kittens. And — sure — there’s still an itch — we can’t sublimate — needing dog breath, dog fluids, and more infusions of cash. Savings, inheritance and loans which paid for all this look more ghoulish under the froth of our rulers’ new austerity with sustaining change.

I know this sounds lame — you and I annulled our thingness with a few hand-waves and it felt major, the way I inspired your open, emotional austerity, rubbing eye cream in, admiring buzzwords but no ideas. No fins of infinity.
Nope. You and I have no controlling issues!
Targeting methods 
To appear transparent 
After a button is pushed 
... I’ve heard that scream!

Marriage is looking good, a mistake but “not a lasting one.” 
* 

Who owns our house under socialism?

I’m quick to postulate I’m an 
evergreen seed  
-ling aboard a slow poke feline brawler, heading to work — worker and sprouting career all aboard molecules snared in
a semantic thicket —  
 
I’m sorry for such shoddy reasoning and undergrowth. Sorry pieces 

of (or about) grey, blue and pale orange foam and Plexiglas  

were pasted together.. ugh, it registers.. The model boxwood-in-seed 

hastily assembled last night, turning in bed. Such and such sorrow hours 

earlier — we got orders for radical simplifications  

to the caterpillar’s legs and self worth from headquarters. Sorry my most important 
role now is undoing things. Sorry there wasn’t a second more to polish my address on
our expanding global network of plants (aspirants).

Our bodies are made for each other. 
It’s astonishing.  Did you hear back, what? 
.. I’m changing my mind for a life you changed  
So relax Ihre form here.  
No cheap shots. Nope. Take the plunge..  
Now I’ll try occupying your emotional life.. I move in with a conscience 
Operating with data of the moment.  
Our biggest hurdles, memories.

Here, to protect yourself from a wrong-headed (naïve) build-up and still call a portrait “transactional,” limit data to easily observed phenomena and stick with expedient production from self-contrived ideology and history.
I bet in the future we have no mail from the here and now. We’ll be on site.

At some tiny level there’s spontaneous disintegration of what’s on my mind until I find myself in a “half-life” where speech still matters. 
By way of a PS on bohemians, Schuyler (ravaged of course) was more of one than Ginsberg, unravaged. And Brainard (ravaged then unravaged then ravaged) was a big boho. Auden? Think so. Jim Brodey, a boho. Even less narrowly, Harry Matthews.

Exquisitely handcrafted 
meditation retributions..

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

Our thoughts at this point raise magnitudes of meandering graphics, 
having left a lavish record of the human hush-from-hand-to-fingers-to-mouth.  
I enjoyed it when my innocence sawed into us,  
turning us into this 
beginning of infinity
even if sheeted in asterisks. 

The local is inside you, sang Pete Seeger, Bob Creeley  
when I tossed my head and rode 
one foot, pawing the ground before a gallop.  
As for my consultant, he shook  
the bed, broke a baby toe, stubbing it  
Like nowhere else in one place, 
A luscious, noiseless bonding in the very era or epoch of the perpetually alterable 
— a stream of gasses embossing / conjoining an invisible roll call gathering around
so much as ‘the way things were’ stay the same that day. 

Our area is interpretive search. 
(Want to read our minds?) No symmetry among unequal strains.   
 
No that’s not right.   
 
The ‘search narrator’ feels self criticism got way over-modulated becoming 2nd rate, NGO, poor argot sampling hostility.   
 
Masked or not, my marketing allergy steals from my super ego stuff.. ..easy to cite in tones stressing processed shock and inexactitude.   
 
Flipping out highlighted weak spots, our freedom, our top level surroundings. Peace, justice, ecology, all uplifting.
That’s not to say there’ll be any more food. 

But there’s no sponsor tie-in currently. 

I hear your inside voice, binary to binary autosuggestion.
When it gets dark it sounds fast.

We wanted to go to
This point in real estate, stabilizing the new office — over the ocean
w/out ‘water- or personal-contact.’ Should we take 
a message?  
We’re talking to what must 
be figurative breakpoints with fate and fate’s consignments. 4 walls as examples.  
 
Empty messages recall nothing of detached  
sensory esotericists.  
 
We’ll erase that message. Also 
Politic display of paranoia recommended for staying cool and stable in an emotional tri-level.

Blackened windows:
We know we don’t know.
Prose is a marketplace,
a rendezvous to encapsulate data fields for the tongue.  

I’m sorry this happened. I was going to stay  
from the moment we set the stage from squinting within representation 
until I went broke. I was then indebted. I am now.

I just can’t say enough.
Now an international scale opposes the lexicon of my body. It’s scary-loud, yet there are comic arguments as dreams seem to centralize.

I have come to my senses, acting my age with your beauty inside. So what I say prompts the assembly I made of torn Gillette letters and smaller decimals.

Each step (of my essay) ground in my heart.

Bliss. We were looking it up. 
A battle between two distinctions  
 
among few rules bringing up a few others,  
times no more of those brain-states showing pride from Asia.   
 
A marsh is now interesting  
(as well as vitae) for the sea.
 
For the eye, nothing but applesauce then shellac the sea brought in without consent, leader of the pack of earthly rule breakers.

Suspend suspension..

Our hesitance to go there is weather related warmth riding in and a similar improvised sauna of fog going out, all but darkness offshore the day before.
The atmosphere wheezes through its pace emboldening dreams.

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

I have aged for you. You may have noticed I’m on the side of folding in meaning that has no purpose, sheer falsetto.
You want in? Try eye accessing cues, carve out what rafter was last seen all strapped at the top. A name for emphasis might be imagined.

A serious pronominal.

Same with his mocking Plato —
It’s all hideously exciting if you’re fair as well lovable.

Justice for all is only made to look calculated, he said. Liberty with caution, minuscule, exciting.. again.

I’m

petrified by striving to mend —
The forsythia is trying to warm up.

My last friend is 
my most erotic partner. Our joy’s a start-up  
And has nothing to do w/  
Opposing ideals of corporations —  
 
Our music brokerage remains in aerospace   
 
Within no sound where there is none  
Other than the last  
S’up? nothing else —  
 
The more he said it the pushier he got.

As one says in social sciences, it’s too late for Cy Twombly’s complete nervous breakdown. There are lucid gaps we spot now and see through... the universe in flight enjoins the loyal center, Twombly’s cocktail expanding and accelerating. To resist extreme sobriety of the autodidact bouts of hedonism are recommended under the guidance of loving doctors, wet nurses, others beyond family and school though you can try your luck there too.

Inundated with liberty, I talk thus in a mocking form. It’s well after the game. My face — like yours — sports layers of sleep relief, realizing exponents of our wildest ambitions.

I thought as a lyricist you’d follow these leftover radiant forms — and soberly, even liberally, interact with them in unitary joy (if you can still breathe) —

I’ve made it normal getting to this next point in our ongoing bear bar repartee.

To resist extreme sobriety of the autodidact bouts of hedonism are recommended under the guidance of loving doctors, wet nurses, others beyond family and school though you can try your luck there too.

We’re not all to blame for unforced errors 
modulating the binary self  
according to archetypes of reverse daring.   
 
Varieties and perspectives have changed —   
 
There’s nothing to tell...   
 
since unforeseen messes at some point talk back.   
 
When they enter, they appear as though they have been with us..  
it’s amazing how “they simply pass”  
— coming from another headquarters, radicalized before they got there, here  
proceeding to be read in on the agenda 
in time to hang it up.

What do we mean ‘quest’? 
 
Each year corrupts the ultra-field, infatuated mostly with active measures. The elders have rules. Stay funny and comfortable is one.   
Another is also fancy, more or less fun. Insert handkerchief. Shave twice a week. Does your dad look selfless to see you slung in the eyes of other men?   
 
What can we do without sleeping around in our measured subculture? Serve meaning with a sleight thru science and art for all.   
 
Last, best, fair in gay love. Then I’ll ask you about immaculate being, rondure and cold feet. That’s dashing on to allegory, the one they call Stepping Up:

Acquisitive Quest Giving Ourselves, Keeping Ourselves.  
 
* 
Oh My God, I so adore you. I thought I was alone in my hatred.

I believe in the healing power of unhealthy options. Percussive isolation. Resentment buried in a colossal physique. Orpheus, the overspontaneous,  drumbeats through a dinosaur theme park. Don’t care, I only lie about what I believe is right, clinging to rules

without a theory of purpose or the gift of agency to promote my case, as masking vanity becomes a fund raiser’s challenge. 

Fizzy yet salient points soak into visual mechanics hanging out for the escape clause (always the last place you look)!

Been holding our tongues. That’s how it works. 
Non-interference takes charge, under which an authentic kindergarten language of crawling gets raised & quest is forcibly asserted. If this were true, working against deadline would shape the last steps of withdrawal from our deadlock with future attributes.  
 
Meantime you targeted a fan like me because of familial obligations to ageless platitude, your camouflage in plain view, the focus of stiff winds over centuries-old middle ground. 
 
In midlife I once had an idea today was over. I forgot, man.  
With less & less destruction of evolution, we constitute the Odds-on-Group taking part in the co-ritual to outlast time.  
 
Over & over. Today again. 
 
Life & limb truncation covers about half the winners & victims in crossfire. How you question & answer — anything you come up with will stomach fair use doctrine — what the privileged young play by. But the next resurgence is an elaborate gerrymander where all ambiguity vanishes for a seeming long time.  
 
History is old as mutt. 

So far I can see your light
tendencies shifting free of fever, ague,
Intemperance, flu.
Coming clean, part
Entering & staying w/ a value

That turns into you, fantastic to watch!
Won’t lie, I weep in it.

116: One’s {most-
Ly random swagger looks on marriage as a catch that alters one’s worth unknown to
The equipped} naysayers: They encourage tasting more —
Never coerced by impediments of stars or human form, fixed on this mark: Love is not love;

Nothing shakes them or me like love following its rosy doom. That’s if I’m not hit by what I feel in the a.m. Then, if only, I believe you, I’m a fool no man ever loved...

But let me take our love’s temperature — wanderings of your true mind prove

We’ll be hitting a few heights in a few weeks, a few brief hours while others admit to softer, more musical alterations.

Love is no fool. Love goes overboard as if water lilies kick off their boots and women come to rule. Love’s bent bears it out, removing

The edge to lips and cheeks.

Artifice, craft, life are short and drive you all over. 
 
Making out, I can drop the questions and shoot for craning my mien; by squinting everything visceral is scattered. (Behind artifice there’s an interaction lab.)  
(Behind life, a free agnosticism. Easy sway. You’re taken up on your offer.) 
Beaten up hulks pour vodka that swirls in determined tones. A film clip with multiple data fields and a crew of deft extras in malaise, one supported by another grabbing a ring thru a rope, dignifying pain.  
 
I’m told you’d prefer not to watch. Using your voice, better to ask a friend or two to make you hurt, pretending they are you, falling mute.

My honest, real boss sucks. 
That’s because she has to. Some job titles are, as the expression goes, anathemas. Disquiet raising the roof. Boss, leader, principal, director, chair, honcho, chief, chancellor, prexy, officer in charge, top chef, head of the shift, muse. What does it take to earn and maintain these titles? Ideology.   
 
Casting spells. Constantly interviewing me as I do with every other employee, affiliate, colleague, member, collaborator, associate sans souci. Muse first!  
 
Encore… A poem is a picture. Have a Shrek glass of water after sunset, a big help defining my boss’s properties degrading, shaken to ..oops.. It’s a picture like hydrangea in labor (staging nightmares) ..in this one I’m emotionally shot with depth as a thespian-rapper rounding off contrasting demands of flimsy seriality and sequence. I never meet her on a Ferris wheel.

How I do love you —
Tho graduate studies seem piecemeal,

I watched us dreaming like economists
affecting a radius of two coasts.
What happened out there? What for?
The survey said you and I made it to the 2nd challenge,
a winning session in crude instrumentation.

Looking into the camera makes this a document.
Gestalt-like comfort in disruption is one point of a # for our seminar at 22 hours.

Perfect color is an egg-hatching moment, kairos, and from there we can move forward, back to detect undertones that encompass our naïve expertise.  
 
Yours and mine. 
There are no nasty hues in their nesting place. There’s a flywheel effect turning conversation over to science and greed. A private-public wholesaling of prototypes that mess up the visual cortex — pasting-in blind spots crammed with luxuries that bind. The flip side — powers of color broker enduring benefits, tooth and nail radiance.

Very good, Jack. We were going over some numbers, audience shares, I mean maxims, and...
I’m here to voice concern about automata poetry / self critique spiraling out of control...

Look, I’m filling out forms on the nightstand.
The point is I’m not writing anything “garbage-y.”

Not
anymore.

Don’t be silly, Jack. You are daytime poetry.
That’s cruel, Rabbi, very cruel.

Anyone can wish for ‘portal trans specificity,’ Me? I eliminate markers to get fully inside my face. Your face. Your brow sports a few layers of sleep relief, aching in baby, cutely accruing intimacy. Meanwhile a new team works on peer strategy, yielding larger holds on cultural cynicism..

*
A kimono is entered, explaining ardor without thought, and with. It also explains our slender objectives wearing each other’s fragrance, weakening the night body.

RNA itemizes tasks.
Do you like winter’s dares?
Or to be bubble-footed in dark briefs!
None of the above!

Nonfat, never satisfied, we live on the edge, they say,
we come from creatures far back, slowly calmed
by disquiet we were of a kind they were to others, lacking
redoubled patrimony and finding-it-out tools. Just ask

distribution adjustment @ sports.com — they have those to spare..
A slew of patrimony tasked down from behaviorist beliefs.

Flashbacks pertain.
Large reflecting pools in the beta future, it’s just a thought.
If I introduce vagueness as a more ardent
co-therapy, we can escape. It’s (vaguely)

thought-train-derailment, bringing on experiments in graphemic parole,
a fullness in replica that nothing’s left of.

Sobriety, not mine, makes the case for / against boredom in semi-dirge, that is, in the poem-making venture. Boredom? Blame it on our near relatives, the empire-prone who once rode escalators up and down the Radisson close by.

Sociologists are stepping up and nodding off
Under the influence of futon cramps at home owing to driving similar vehicles to work
Transporting pouti debs and elephant men,
Dostoevsky wrote.

Father’s Day for the dead? What’s your name? hold on
I’ll put you
on greenish “pallor enhancer.”

Granddads breathing around the austere exterior,
sweating under a river of supportive skin
that flows on,
waking up for compliments ...
What’s your problem?

I feel everything in my brain.

Isn’t free enterprise the greatest ...

No counterarguments.

(When I can’t
sleep I can’t

dream.)

Un-sober gestures, precise. Bright eyes, sparkling motions. You and I should get a huge smucker’s. 
 
But it’s hard to pilot (let alone hatch) a plan out of leftist smoke. Mm-hmm. Green new rhetoric toward a political realignment is hemi-obvious now, at this hour of the fireball pyramid scheme — v — those who vote to approve public squalor juxtapose obscene capitalist private milieux? 
 
— v — 
 
Start from the midsection, track your rectangular coordinates, understand pleasures of the neck, chest and eyes.    
 
Before thrills, yoga is fantastic. I’m 12 years old for now.

Switching phones, I look up at the crazy dental intern waiting to take me out. 
Silence is oversexed-enormous but I practice it.  
 
I’m sick of guy’s things.  
 
Not running, walking rapidly, I cross the hall, the long one with mental achievements ....  
 
... come out the complex, take the duck walk ....  
...go through a dedicated lot ....  
... and into Q7 in one STEADICAM SHOT. 
*  
Back then I was a dental monitor, not a dentist

There’s nothing linear going on. Everyone knows that. 
Unless you want to.

We met at a fashion party, Homeric possibilities in extremes. 
A couple of days reveling in delirium, haunting.  
Breaking the ice when it dawned on me: 
 
That driveway could be the future beachhead steaming for real, along with amalgamated events summarized best, perhaps, in this question I’ve been asking myself?

I’m lost? I’m not familiar
with your neighborhood.

You’ve got a nice view of it
from up here.
Here we go. I got you.
Here we are.
I got you.

My back!
I got you. It’s okay.

You sure that’s why you’re here?

We went nowhere. Already propositions become a promise. 
 
At first random, as noted last century, there’s a rustic perp to expat style and muddled cool.  
2 million years a species, sexual liberty never expires, but elimination of error is piping hot
while I’m learning to increase trying.

Do you write while you edit?

Indebted? to what?

We’re a special team. We’re circumspect.
Our sharing mechanism (pretext) gives no voice
to repeated wandering motifs over a long silence
we back off from. Nightly


we face life thickets of cloud & southerly winds
taking it to other investors who might stay offended,


the next step in the training.

Focused. Demented.
Put in other words, no shortcuts. Nope.
It’s regrettable, they say —
Twin Peaks doesn’t add up
under binge watch...

Not entirely, but it seems unforced holding to an ideally liberal weirdness.
David L thru Kyle M is an observer with an uncapped fortune,
reflecting what adolescents do when their backbones ice up,
raising all boats, all social levels.

When blood types were fresh no one was blamed. Now I am, yet I would like to see or set up the 1st metric, be shown the dissolved needle and my as it were haystack with no frontiers, knocking the moment down with glances, nods, inspiring small talk.. yet keep it under wraps.

How now, anapest.

Nobody trusts perception, eh?

Tho moral bases are gnarly, like a helicopter in spin, any panorama you enjoy leads to ‘representative fantasy’ or a real fake apposite the perceived, blocking open view, requiring accommodation to time squeezes that appear on purpose, tho cyclical, ‘unlovable’ (according to Wilhelm and Baynes). But conflict is not merely evil if it lends focus to self regard and moving on, moving collegially. This is the potential utility of bachelorhood.

I remember when common peril for any politician would be taking a supersonic flight carrying a single Russian. Wisdom lay in de Staël turmoil, a title from the ‘political’ surface as if exclusionary discourse / action is exercised to preserve future salient differences emanating from the core.

Again the so-called establishment are working on blowing up salience, a peril upgrade. For anything less cautionary or wishfully uncool we’ll have to shop outside the left wing. Each of us now rendered a non-donor monad and pre-mogul, again — our search, yours and mine, worked up into retrievable data of auteur dealerships; at best, we’ll get back to you —

“I wanted to regain our friendship more than anything...”
...is this in the test?

On the b side, classics are for romantics like the Raveonettes.

I digress: y+z (1-x) is a blind patch of petit point. Kissing is sick. It’s bad for you but wasn’t as destructive as the filching of imitation.
Anyway, kissing over where you are is so blatantly filled with what it spreads everywhere completely negating its purpose.

So why does it get processed in our eyes down through history?
Maybe I’m a critic who’s decided to blab about all the wealth we have coming.

Guards stood tall. United keeping their balance over parcels. Now they tell you take off your belt. The impression received: every advance serves a purpose. A higher purpose according to those hoisted in disarming breeze. Purpose in a word is metonymic for devastation in dance, collapsing under our own glare in supernumerary haste, minor readjustments in body politik on a purely intentional scale opposite a line-up of out-of-control voice forms.

Then ballet natives yield to a rush of idols and new people center stage... my right, your left.

*

Dispatched for
chaos

yet
subjects of desire in another sense, an echo
understanding from Q’s & A’s in visible
twin lights
Minimalist
and suddenly just theory.

Awing in a wolf’s regime,

there’s brush
fire toward mosquitos — shot
through the throat, asking too much.

So far I can see your light
tendencies shifting free of fever, ague,
Intemperance, flu.
Coming clean part
Entering & staying w/ a value

That comes into you, fantastic to watch!
Won’t lie, I weep in it.

You don’t even have to be interesting.
T hat doesn’t sound right.
Always repeat what appeals to you.

I’m captioning love’s Token Austerity, sleep-laden.

Copy-fitting is more profitable than deep discounts.
W e need to see everything, of course, before it’s retouched out.
This is a new policy to block deletions that took on fire to go missing.

Blurb:
You bet monkish materiality does not exist. No dissonance, no disruption! There are appearances, such as separate questions and baseline boundaries in self-abnegation.

The book in hand covers a lot.

An interesting interview had to be done in depth, ‘staff may be prosecuted,’ toughing it out. Still, there’s no lack of linnets and authentic wax.

Rush to earnest sentiment and keep me there, do me up.
Only four exceptions: I wasn’t speaking to you.
I was speaking to strong, sustained interests of No Oil Inc.
Oh, and incidentally, I can’t keep working with you
Looking over my shoulder. Don’t be afraid,
I just kick back and relax, the year will be half over.

Summer ..

Make a to do list! blinded by periodic breakthroughs,
A pragmatics circumvents the will —
The focus is on nothing we won’t do..

Sargent’s song.

Side by side, everyone in Dog City thinks equity-is-so-cool. / Every owner of a bonehole subject to rules hard to vary
even as Dog tax experts evoke cuddliness bred in muted colors.. I’m here too, waiting for everyone I can’t stop waiting for.

I live and wait in a container house southeast of the city. My work is to detect and remove abusers of my equity.

Dog Zen is nothing at all, only sustained focus and innovation on nowhere equivalent to a disc. I won’t do it, nah, many thanks.
My gospel is to smash divisions.

Vengeful dioramas later ..
soaking up positron equations that might italicize sex (our hobby and bent!) — annexing us to commune midstream freely by the humming fireside. Yes?

Yep. I’m not picky. I’m trashing blushing shame / anthropological-foam-bearing puffiness, that’s all. There. Chucked.

Ontological waves eat their briefs, catching fish next
Out of breath, nearly within sight, cinched around the gut, it seems, huffing at the mouth.

Sister Fish wishes nobody had cared. A collapsible bottle of wish with

-out a message, just hunger and grody digestion.