I feel socialist. Validating market snapshots, optimizing
The practical center
More than any single system,

A huge agnostic discipline
About attitudes behind morals.

You know this open and shut —
Take it down / or thumb thru

The balance left over. Inhabit the brim

To the point you realize
We know now — now less than nothing...
a view down a corridor of great numbers.

Staring you in the eyes 
In my illusion of minimalism  
I scored my first wormhole on schedule. The entity, no,  
I should say the accretion settled down  
Inside us, lost and scattered trying to remember.  
 
After all that, it’s a misunderstanding of gym etiquette that gets you ashore with one* shoe in hand, mine.
I’ll find you.

*that one shoe = two I stole from you.

Each year corrupts the interference ultra-field. 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 happy never to see you thru the eyes of men?

What can we do without sleeping around in our active subculture?

Last, best, fair in determined love. I wanted to ask you about immaculate being, rondure
and going out. / According to slung
Allegory, it’s called Stepping Up, Giving Ourselves, Keeping Ourselves.

Yoga would be as popular as practical strength flows everywhere, definitely in bed. It’s early in the mind — partly histories of the universe. New history. The porn star yogi sneaks his junk across the border just to release our frustration, verbally sneering in a natural voice..   
 
*  
Advice to a would-be gymnast (simple or complex): just be simultaneous.

The jungle is quiet... too quiet. (Theseus)
Today, my beliefs go unchecked worshiping in net neutrality w/in the gloom of purgatorio as perceptions of different possibilities blow town including the best halo effects and feelings. They’ll come back. 

It’s nice finally to put a class of face to the humiliating covered breathing.  Today, every day open censorship is going to be there,  filtered, unfiltered as long as it takes.

To float in unlicensed undercurrents from a mature avantist is not much of a surprise. We know one poet, so others as bona fide avantists, demeanors of a calming, enlightened refusal that likely rubbed off during their intake of an illusory social imagination. Or don’t know. (Also refusal.)

In this lunar diagram one fragrance was my last ounce of politic hope.
Oh you know, unhappy 
We supplemented photographs for subject matter, I recall, 
one of garland fungus, students foreground (by an arch to abandoned parks). 

It’s up to pond structure to model one’s passivity learning the moon’s
mother tongue, stray vowels discharged by shore conditions
and birds in flight.

Protecting the hang of dignity threatens it.
Everyone knows that. Everyone alive. A little sick, even unwell,
a man’s voice is still handsome, calm, howbeit scrappy. 

Further down the pillar, a kimono was entered, explaining prehension
without one’s perfecting tongue in cheek.

The Inuit, among others, are fascinated by pottery. 
 
Any dark ceramic with asymmetrical tenets is tacit  
but could be looking up at its light source, feeling talkative..  
maintaining maximum restraint to engage another psyche.

You and I devised robust edits to my thought while my so-named public face made a living,
almost kidding and choosing your chest, shoulders and hands over laws of physics. What kind of prose government overthrows dabbling more lightly?
Then let me pull an invisible to the eye hair off your blouse. 
(Blouse and sex are off the same pile.)

At this point I remember looking up at at the music itself, feeling an urgency in ideas. Menu: 
We live in a debt growing country. Maximum restraint = knitting your own brow. 

What about how we enjoy free speech — still — to say what some think — but their recipes, or ours, are perfused with vapid bias. Trees in place, defiantly miscellaneous, thanks to a compliant Leitkultur, treeways on a berm, backdrop to civil union with ideal permissions built from headwinds — dormant chaos, lowered public engagement 
 
with as it were or without word craft. Discourse on all sets as parts of others can scar us, you see, yet you see nothing but simple, bare facts slaughtered by pushing on that remote.
 
Free, in subjective sensation.

It once read you’re my concern. 
 
“I heard talent & beauty & wealth come with their own specious ideas; by putting them to rest they take ‘full effect’ with no attachment to bad diets or addictive capital.”

I’m leaving; you gasp.  
Is this documentary or did we make it up? “I gather your wit and austerity misread one another from the start.” So this is an edit (to feed the hunger). That’s about as close as 2nd chances have to keen, unbroken pulse. 

In a Deux Magots adaptation, 
robots embrace the free market. This is pronounced in penetrating tones   
 

over a pale rain of weather tariffs and universal buzz. Blameless, nonetheless free of anguish for a moment, yet drifters doubt.. ifthere’s enterprise in others’ victimhood. Each higher up robot agrees not to argue the point going forward.

Tons of special forces in silhouette .. polished in water .. on day one we’d .. imagine them in caress finals.

We’ll correct everything near the top of the grade filling in ahead with capacitance-assistants. They’re converted

Theorists of a visually astute world culture (secure camaraderie). They propose and maintain bestiaries wholly populated with tests and variations. Details outside. After dark trails. Tons.

In a gift economy we learn from our failures, suppressing change. Who can ever say what happened that day but I know we slept over because there was a soft (soft on the ears) mattress to flop on. 

Statues toppled. Fewer of them needed now.
The mime sequence where you spoke out was long-term spoofy, spoofy a word that restrains most others. More, there was a modulator from a board of modulation. Our Behaviorists bow.

True, false, is it their gaze or ekphrasis? 
Yes. It’s speaking animals that need you, remember — and  
time’s up.

To remain disciplined for our new celestial motion weekend
Calls on comfort and drill, “...habits of empire.” 
Start over. 
Cocktail wieners. 
Kids love them! 

Peel’em back and throw your knives. 
A (s)he-mind’s pill for song and dance is so! long overdue. 

Our partners are shiny then fallen, with grey streaks. 
Disciplined to start over.

A fop sur la route is a Parisian invention, an essentialist’s incarnation. 

Steer clearly. Highway safety — bow, I love what we do together 


Like switching work bags, mixing it up then. We should be mortified but impressed. 
(This siegecraft apparently works. 
For my driving, I’ve hired a fop strategist.)

You’re good doing this. Just in stealth.
Report to command centers for the new pricing, lest 
Misery looks a lot better. Go. Fees balanced. Get out! 

After.. there are vector 
Utilities (direct flares) for expressing blinking enzymes.
I believe we never saw them before. 
Burn, turn, run away 
Suffering coincidence in time 
To hit the meaning of just whose future is come.. just..

And stop waving that grape juice. Language is tired.
Your eyes fill with manpower.
Your hair’s an apothegm to my health.

Note: It’s impossible to separate understatement from early programmed utterance; both are newborn in an admissible sense, pitch. So that’s how pretending v coming close can be felt, my sovereign.

Next, an inevitable database advances to burn out your swing — try living on meeting death half-way hapless (and deceitful), sensing value contingent. Warning: The underground minimizes special-purpose thinking within a dominant tribal identity or trance. The opium is waiting, on a bender. What comes first is calm to recover and / or replace each close-to-noble escape route on ahead.

When you got up your voice was 
Vibrating w/ a head cold, falling  
Flat into dust in 4 motes.   
 
I don’t know how motes, much less how 4 rush   
 
And flounder into mountains. I only heard   
 
Vibrating = Sturm und Drang,  
Dust controls anger / how severely narrowed minds are wed.

Remember about now we compile devices with motives, in effect, soft flickers of syntax, rather than comments — good (half-)thoughts spidered into hind & arm pins and something more. Get to resolute joy nodes, a punching bag of well refined tricks, compressed — holding you in my super afterthoughts. 

Check the front seat glowing with our golden characters. In other manners, hold your breath. 

Well, I knew m’lord was a prevaricating, bloodlust child — the writs of Rolfe d’Hampole had warned — unceasing sycophant, his incarnadine shadow spilt down dim stairwells to redden more, divagating before oak branches in nightfall, exhorter of few changes, hardly any. 
 
Not a koan  
(how could  
 
it  
be impaled?)   
 
— religious type, agnostic,  
he and child both listened to reason while a temple friend sliced  
off a nipple. It was the middle way,  
enlightenment simplified, spelling it out. 
Lightning over fog. Over ravines. Knower and the known, all branches, all matter —  
 
A sweet industrial morsel went for all 3 doors assuming no threshold ahead where materiality can’t exist. No dissonance, no interruption.  
 
These ways could also be the middle  
 
as Buddha and Buddhists are different things.

I like gay art. I know nothing about it. 
 
Bursting out of your head while you hike thru grasses: All this acreage owned by prosaic dabblers, a-theoretical factual folk. Broken, misunderstood.  
It’s different evening on and children on fire hit back.  
 
Teamwork. Again, our people are what make us great.  
 
And if that’s everything for now, we’ll switch to loving and losing and loving. Fresh air still excessive — a geyser in a box-set of boxes in bigger sets you don't want to see?  
Very classy but nothing so great and natural as theater, sleight of hand, 
good posture and strategic intellectual constructs.

We impart numeric dicta slathered with platitudes — century-old middle ground (the themeless module) where we sleep (wavy fields of inaction) and continue playing around vulgar innuendo to stay kind, as you undress to force a smile, fully emancipating me to feel obliged to receive you generously. 

A re-edit seeking more bliss starts out as a trick before we put it down in a book. 
 
Next we make an alphabet with a dirty grid of circles.  
It’s an alphabet of symbol systems within other alphabets  
helping us to read from books about grids, other fool notions   
 
as well as upgrades with fresh alphabets for colloquial physics.  
A steel door stays open. Here are the last letters of bliss.  
We best defer to the models to differentiate ourselves.  
Deep blues and silvers with biological shades to form vowels;   
 
consonants have already taken shape from older models,  
losing what is always present.

Athens is the cradle of alpha reality 
Hip, stolid, ordered smooth, unruffled for the taking.  
I got married however without knowing the side effects. 
The light darkens. I hate Greece.  
It’s official, we’re its colony.  
Ah, #36, latecomer to the cultural line, all time subservience.  
(It’s not easy being special.)

There’s a guru I listen to. 
 
I’ll dispense with details about me, this is what I heard.  
 
The nation is being mined. 
 
Mainly specific  
pieces of pieces —  
Most out in space are pulling in impact. Often this is how the latter day sing as we come to our senses  
 
with an hermaphroditic itch gerrymandered in ambiguity. Pull. Puller.  
W e’re pushing in genetic material prompted by the assembly.

A disheartening work pile supposes its completion. A muse speaks up, tho, in dialog enhancer
mode, increasing the volume a good amount.
We have to stop adjusting the margins for your meadow voice, 
for giving up missing your skin

...a good amount ...meaning?
That would be as far as I get
with you so solid a wonder, ending our aversion to infinity.

Cupid fell into swelter in untamed aromas 
that led his black olive dogs to you, making clear    
 
Cupid when in a blouse, Cupid’s blank stare =  
a blast furnace expending heat.   
 
Cupid pulls the curtains to reveal the street, dog-permitted 
hauteur, outside where pet people pass by in walk-on roles.   
 
One doesn’t know any more  
if there are good times or bad ahead of gunfire.

Prague was mentioned.
Wendy, go to your room.
It’s go broke / go for broke.
It’s only a blow-up but
I live in it. The economy now?
Terrific, right?

Ask me another?
It didn’t happen.
I’m glad you’re here.

I’ve un-conceded.
 
Insert the bonus and exchange — what do you know!  
Your tongue, clear up to your neck — radiant 
 
patterns your thorax a phenomenal fact and factoid that can end in a draw sustained by  
getting up, proceeding for an hour to spin.

As a persnickety moral sort, Are you thinking of me? 
 
I used to believe so, along w/ all the grossular and pine boxes keeping us apart opening to our former lives, a win-loss for comic, breezy wind instruments to sound the alert, lithe, w/ a spooky edge. 
Mortality can’t be beat.  
No amnesty? A ship is on the way   
 
from mare nostrum  
or like crustaceans we give in, to forgetfulness for now.   
 
Blinds drawn, our preachy, scavenged opacity fills w/ sang-froid riches of dark matter, soaking the globe w/ its bible pedigree.   
 
Before that yoga is fantastic, a civilizing coterie added to sempiternal space, entered into w/ a worldview w/out speaking, achieving access to felt qualities.

Start for free. Let’s call this the time left.. toward the end of the beginning. 
The front gate still won’t front.  
 
How does not knowing why intrude on liberty? 

Visuals today are overproduced.  
I produce Spot the dog.. or now his surrogate, Spot One.
Each of his microns intruded a moment before emptied of vague alterations. Then back to the same Spot. It seems for all that time.

Intrusions encompass free time, coincidentally.

Muse and scribe know where all glory goes. 
If we’re lucky, principles of mediocrity rule our larger commitments.  

Then both can devise omniscience for a period of guesswork.  
 

Finish a stretch and all glory gets confused. Confused the way   
 
A rusted barge dries off in sun orange. Or   
 

Danzig is the Wallace Stevens of evil urban clusters..   
  ...pleasure before.. Hey, that your velour vox?  
Omniscience is sham-sanctioned conjecture. Modesty goes off by itself as the evolution of disquiet is cutthroat, a huge family of arrivistes then custodians.   Ok, this is not Danzig. Clinically proven.  
But theory is something else.

We can’t compress enough or too much. We were one people at one time. We also is I. This is how the toy psyche researches more conscientiously touching on endearing dual roles in translation — deviating of us to read and reread pain extending to your one body howling and sustained this second time. 

Next, a glistening database ‘of us’ is advanced thru textuality within a dominant tribal identity tracing out how to refine / displace our contempt. 

[...]

‘In a way’, he said, ‘nothing saved me until we ran the gauntlet —’

Condition blue. 
Ten or so 
barks kick it off, running 
over one ocean. 

Ripping in mean 
swimmer’s blue, 
in a competing mesne, 
inseparable in another, a gnarly magenta 
more down surf, startling 
  That swells 
the back light between us.

In order to take on a galactic stare, 
Occasional intoxicants  
Every 10 yrs —  
A decade comes and goes and still you are unattainable!   
 
Say you’ll be back. A blast of cold air  
Stoked by an infant guise.  
You have to. What I think I understood  
I enjoyed making ‘dumb-  
Great’ from the top  
Terminating following orders  
 
Screaming desire.  

Like no premium withholding option holds, we Americans can relax, go cloud up other ideas!

Are you thinking of me? 

I used to believe so, along w/ all the grossular and pine boxes keeping us apart opening to our former lives, a win-loss for comic, breezy violinists in quartets w/ silver hats — Superangels w/ their instruments to sound the alert, lithe, w/ a spooky edge.

What can be done to stasis over a long time? I register nothing. Nothing again? 
 
Boredom is poor experiment, an acting supervisor said. And that’s what we wrote down to snap out of it — lightness, joy, eyes-open, no dream. Not even a 3rd cousin to dream: Knower and known are clean osmosis in reverse! It’s clearer every day we’re way behind the suitably flared zoological frontier.  
 
Time I guess to lower your eagerness down and cover it with worn Swiss Army knives. I might think I’ve been a floater of cynicism in relation to any idea I sever. (It’s hard for me to take credit.) “It’s always about dying,”  
Btw, it’s “never death.”

I consider head scratchers boredom managers. They hold genetic information but don’t understand. It skips a generation.

This sentence has not improved. It’s been set; 
for all appearances nothing lurid was due at signing.  
But I am confused, sin  
-ce claimant to the photogenic vitamin to stop bleeding  
is not a complete sentence, lacking some nouns, transitions, useless  
as a future maxim in dissent tho settling in  
in meaning in a way — like a raincoat of moods — no rain.  
There’s only my arrigato for your setting me up for your assent.

Nobody trusts perception, eh?

Tho moral bases are a panorama
you joy leads to ‘representative fantasy’ or a good
facsimile apposite the perceived, blocking open
view, requiring accommodation to time squeezes that appear
on purpose, tho cyclical. Conflict tho evil
lends focus to self regard and moving on — moving collegially.
This is one potential utility of bachelorhood.

There are statements of facts
And those of law. Their truth
Levels go down or soar — depends on
Outer linear order and your age.

Each generation gets torched in the pass, those that would,


Externalizing struggle beyond their years. (Like the renaissance.)

Today we’re feeling besieged, a little called out
In the meaning of no revolution now.

“A solid base” cited in the last run of artificial snow, foaming dissent — I do not have licenses to bring in blood.

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

while in bed the U.S. landscape descends from clarity.

The collapse torques with a disaster channel on, volume up. Our market shares in backpacking services and shippable goods.

Ah, you’re driving me to a convenience stop — I don’t care. 
Push-pull can be effortless if I tell you how we’re doing.  
There’s a piece of karate, a fragile backspace we erase, and how there’s turbulence... and something else more active, piquant. Your push reaches a point where time management is unleashed.  
 
This is one way to point.  
 
We live next to a place with water views. I continue feeling deprived sometimes.  
 
But ocean sniffing is never private, I gasp before the beach driving home, high tide a big data glob crashing to earth.. that night after the super moon — diodes in crimson, finding a soft spot for anyone’s look-see, another beach in a long line magnified ashore, twisty, revived!

After homesickness, there’s new inebriation &
One way to degrade-ultimately-destroy the dynamism of capital.
Otherwise, there’s only perpetration & fortune to hide.

Stan the man, a legend;
it’s “OK” Stan explains,
we’re all Buddha’s fault.
He isn’t kidding.

More than a god, a three-in-one, a god’s pup
fills in quantum entities on a not-
fully-occupied terrain, terrain, I repeat, “on
pause.” This is spacetime —
Whew — you think of puppy paws
as your head fills up with the stickiest
most adorable pup gifs filled out
celestial dissonance as street lights hum

and flicker

as ......

as well as

emotions
Stan aims to lay claim to and
defend as his own.
Soon.

Living in an urban sandwich,
tomorrow or the day after you take out what’s here,
it’s in the doing log, down toward the (but not the very) end. Even if you see
spoilage as natural you might sense a hidden hand (vengeance).
This every time those who argue grow less timely.

Our models are you & everything I can live by w/out being 
sequestered or charged for shortcomings,  
ballooning in harmony around some parts of sky  
 
I understand as profuse clouds. Understand as take in.  
Huh? Is it fire? Up in the glow  
the moon made indispensable for smearing light  
travels down in a tiered border-like scrawl. 
 
Adaptability in any event is hardly effortless. 
I add ellipses.

The ‘universal’ that is un-square and new and meta-obvious in Joan Miró is less so 
 
here — 21st century America. (I’m just making up excuses.)   
 
For design resolution  
 
— unless you already live there — take roads by a shore in bad, frivolous blues, stock blacks built up through numbers-to-be, numbers in conceptual verisimilitude and incremental balance, contradicting formal transport to the dark.

The drizzle stepping over water, balloons floating
In a once swimming pool.. spurts of views down
Hallways of stairs set apart and fronted
With music waking in dimming brightness
Without memory of how you got there, you.

What makes chosen words dressed in black?  
 
Adopting the air of mock superiority or even on-point (albeit fleeting) superiority.  
 
Most superiors taste like shit but we keep tasting. 
Bullied into autocracy 
Hell is too big to fail.  
 
Meanwhile the loyal opposition becoming more of an influence in the field is fired.   
 
The ousted president drops to his knees.

Hate altered. 
 
So shall we live.  
 
True physicality nests in our thoughts even as  
No real daemons roam with panicked ants on the ground. Consciously mixed media. But you can’t throw fake daemons out. It helps there’s a mating dance to appreciate what they are doing — or not — we’re working on it.  
 
There’s body hustle, along with rips in the cargo of spacetime where our uppermost thoughts burgeon in ennobling, blobby warmth from a sweetheart, accompanied by addiction to risk.  
 
Come here often?

We can demolish only one artificiality  
At a time. Not a toy, not you, not me. One’s an example of enterprise.  
One doesn’t love you or me. One loves what we do.  
One’s a learner but more a surferdude lover. We intervene first, only once. 
Remember, all our troubles disappear.  
You’re almost naked. You’re my business.  
 
There is no circling the rink, tho.  
No complaints or sworn declarations,   
No closure nor irresolution —  
There’s not a single cudgel you can wield;  
We’ve lost your 名刺 and your 名前.

We are a color of cunnilingus. I noticed, though, you and I applied for pharmaceutical assistance, an oscillation gelatin called Sparkling Affront.
Nothing was more or less than arabesque, forgetting our place in the secret order of failure. We once left a lavish record of the male-female hush from hand to fingers to mouth: in epic hock to our hips. 

Our temperature raised the magnitude of repetitions into a shriveled median in the after-life or its meandering dissolution ... 

An obtainable conspiracy, perhaps, surely no hoax.

She lost the election. We can’t know what she’s thinking. It’s demented. 

Keep tact abstract. 
Keep it for oneself 
Healing a vote, a voice split to pulp, gnawed. 
Feeling a salt chill unexpectedly going up the swirling fields 
Of humorists, ideologues, ragged modernists, including this one — 

Holding to their path, rescuing none. 
Yours, & ‘even more in mayhem,’

Fizzy yet salient talking points soak into the nudist beach hanging in for your escape hatch (always the last place you look!)
Don’t care, I only lie about what I believe is right, clinging
without a theory of purpose or a gift of agency to promote my case, as masking vanity becomes an all-nudist challenge.

I got a grip on the heebee-jeebees.
Times are an outrage. Good times, lean, treason’s treason.

We’re tracking themes thru cable anxiety —
for prejudice damn well plays a revisionist bias, looks like
a tradition of selfish accomodation I’m loosely not interested in.

Tax breaks for the wealthiest keep’em watching.

To look is also

(we note now at the end to physics-oblivion)
to be seen.

All nature repairs to a cryonics lab that’s been reopened. Just for a second. 


I reconnect to highlights and the mimicking hidden force of gravity. You guys go ahead. 
I’m going to roll on, Volvo-like. That’s the best stunt. 
Gilbert Ryle asks, “might not every action or reaction be a piece of shamming?”

I might add peace, justice, ecology, all uplifting. 
That’s not to say there’ll be any food. 

But there’s no sponsor tie-in currently...

Side streets go down to hourly weather over the power grid; 
Razed, rain’s over, its light flow an oily example.  
This extends through night rain. I reason rain’s surrogacy is a more serious and newer down.  

More anguish driving over to a panel on reasoning and not writing anything down, a stomach turning experience  
 
in its emptied refraction through a taillight for syntactical beings (in a sentence) on a muddy drive.

Info-tainments advance by themselves, lovely distractions, shooting the steepest mountains w/ slime. Thinking back, they segue to riveting motions in our self interrogation — commuting to work where we share high fives & broker a plan! 
 
The hollow inside is mixed up, the surveys say;  
 
overlapping symbols’re happening way out in the ocean.  
 
Your ocean. Your flamenco in transition.  
Our faith & consequences.

Coat of arms:
There’s something to mining homilies and off-color
copy, imitating / replicating Dionysius for the evening drive and later.

We’ve now passed the second-cousin stage of wretchedness. You’re
good to take it up with authorities before severing qualms.

Tattoos first, second, his hair.

The plot leaves the door to irresolution ajar —

Guess what, the grabber is un-bolted down in segments like a lax rattle
spinning in slo mo. It adds an all night ring to our narrative, id est,
the needle breathed hard, leaving the mouth hole
open to irresolution
and availabilities for picking up the dissolved thread.

A rhetoric
Gone terribly right, and so 
We draw together 

If we’re to make a life together. 
The dead never see us because 
All that pulls us apart. 

When it’s just the two of us, paired, oh 
Clearly we follow policy 
Filling speech balloons like Supermen ..

There are no thresholds as if 
 
Staying chaste is on the house  
 
Just as in the States yoga is really charming..  
 
First done wrong, quaint, then drenched though slackened  
— Janus, proud to sponsor Janus.  
Book-worthy twists. Cross brandings. Contracts.

My soul’s on break, thinking in a style of incompletion (tourist boats),  Obsequious, sharpened, 
 
Few motifs — the wash of light gets exaggerated.  
I need you and we wander on (language).  
At least our calls’re in the area...  
‘holding each other open’ formatting our interpretive devices to 
Moan for the surface.  
 
There may be many areas...

Start writing. 
It’s easy going out and doing things you don’t know. No repeat parts.  
The charge is here, thrill in peeling back from nothing as well as failing to remember the (mission) exchange. Or extra charge.

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

Geometry respects the brain..
somebody likes a piggyback...

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

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

like it was
lighting up my senses

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

It’s deeper, more formal than that really
a perfect animal halo front to back.

Sweeping reductions were next. 
One pleasure then is borrowing sentences to cut our rent.   
 
The previous owner told us to cut it all off, gave us gobs of cash  
and that led to holding our share of a volatile   
 
augmented beyond constraint, driven  
by the smallest shift in feeling you all over me at the core.   
 
I never use that word now.

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

You’re confused? I have my poem now.

By popular demand we sign off on others’ labor — A newspaper edition, documentary remnants, penetrable databases — We occupy this clever, conceptual nook, curl up and at times siding with the powerful is deliberate as well as passive-aggressive. I’m joking. I’m staying sarcastic — It bears repeating there’s audible glee not being perennially the other and oppressed. The oppressed are whom we avoid where or when we can be free — On the outside, in place of a popular voice, outsourced bouquets smolder w/ the emancipatory normality of assumed dominance.

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

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

Falsehood is an actuarial stat in a more subjective state, a quality of embelishment in progress, not an elevation or height. 

This is a true/false dance question. Fibber Perseus v radium Dana (his mom). Which are ya? 
In one draft you as Perseus can usher in big futures, taller mouthpieces enter the salon rolled ‘into’ burbles [B flat major], Dana’s tendencious pedestrians, 1st- or 2nd-years, tall but sweating lead colors. 

Dana can’t help smothering her loved ones. The varied birds are mute.

The bird feeder pipes in, “Linked phrases run through the a’s, b’s, c’s so on, but a-phrases, again, often point to the composition (the kind I am).

B-wise, my creativity
is not wasted in remorse.
What I owe: I know
almost and almost lost,
unfinished, in everything. For the c’s
I looked over a scratchy plain
of dandelions, empiricism, clover:

Ah universality! It’s always your newness:

and I see your forms
as I fill in the questionnaire
putting my back into it.”

En route to the dogs, there’s the apocalypse within; pushing deeply, our lot’s in a hurry.  Can we cut to the scary part?  No future arouses chaotic phenomena rooting for any singularity ahead until there is no threshold. Matter persists, no dissonance, no disruption, a new status quo: perpetual, sparkled amid meanderings that are ordered appearances going dormant or running off with fresh incentives for a frontier in unboundedness, optics unravelled in dissolving attitudes behind all the good times forward.

Wearing new ear buds, I flash along. Unnerved by this chamber piece somberly floating in fun stuff, now audible jokes of brute resignation, of multiple intentions preparing us for a fixed melody with renewed power. Not hearing more fosters coercion of what evolutionary good was before it ran through some options. 

Unless there is nowhere else.

We fail to clarify after political glamor there’s poli rant along with new protocol (old manners) watched over, even policed nightly — many topics in mind so a few words take on character, a wince, a tilt of hat.

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

The passive voice was made for you to prove your anger; propositional semantics =

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

It’s closeness ahead shaped by time gone just like that.

Let’s now prescribe an observance of justice
each game, for any obvious bravery.

Let’s is an imperative like elect me or make a muscle.

A magnificent evening can be given to loose, persistent counter thought.
This or any separation we call birth of the blues out of naïveté, shyness,

meaning frame and ligaments hold little feeling, resourceless.
Little feeling is not sad. One votes sadly.

How could I be so foolish in bed, you ask. 
You’re the matter at hand.  
 
There are subtitles, various languages. We can stay awake and translate the exposed back of another dreaming.  
Nothing accrues but there’s a lifetime of waking thoughts.  
I’m taking you taking this from the back to the throat. (You asked.)   
 
Sleeping has nothing to do with nothing. 
It’s interim behavior.  
You can exit the room at any point, burning, or add features to nodes, as in rote ed like foundational philosophy.

It’s privilege to be singled out 
.. Suffering, complaining, 2 out of 3 observers got off, depleting the shipment. Surnames are ..oh forget it, uh? They’re randomly conjoined.  
 
They mentioned their legendary roots, cleansed of terror. (I heard there’s a user’s list of trainers and trainées.)  
 
Fall back, breathe while our rescuer-recruits get authenticated.  
 
Breathe, again, push, five..  
 
It’s about not breaking ranks  
 
To achieve a balanced personality we come to bury.

Forever all night. 
Look around, what’s background?  
Barely perceptible lightning over fog.
Homology and prudence. Peck v immolation.
No questions asked, we work the lower jaw
for the same carbons to put this together for refuge.  
 
Meanwhile something came up. 
 
You’ll need a new camping saw and hood scoop.  
I’ll invade your space then leave later,  
lately not feeling calm over you but crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

I believe in fact in one field.
There’s a way we recover from riches and most happiness: as litigants in another field henceforth — 

Subtext as center field once there was a C-class. 

We stay on board out in left .. 

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

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

As assassins we do not impinge on feeling fine /

10 gallons of the Hirsch, please,
W/ the canonical crescent tartelette, ah..
A pipeline of debits operates far across everyone’s casual monotones.
Everyone’s direction will shift as one’s nervous system distorts

Changes in emergent systems over time..

‘We never make judgments about people we shoot.’

O Buddhists of progress 
We’re back in vertigo   
 
Yielding authority practicing karate high noon  
: Yeh, sure, take me on your own.  
Karate brings up laws of nature. Laws vast and tiny. Or vice versa.  
 
Or maybe the law is contextually pragmatic, more like mannerist enigma-cutting, modifying collective memory w/in incessant self-interrogation?   
 
Who can share no one’s convictions?

There were missing utterances filling balloons
w/ the enormity of what got hooded — a dirge-y lexicon
that cannot be considered tenable
given cost averages — One’s intellect seeks damages
more than fair warning.
 
Dedicated robots embrace the black market, they announced in a penetrating tone, 
 

a pale mist of drifting, all night. Blameless, free of anguish for the moment —  
Inuit picked that up from them..   
..wolves running through snow melting into wolves..

A little before four
& how my twin psyche writes more conscientiously
Touching on raw parts in this endearing translation.
In your memory, throwing kisses
We did it once in complete metonymy.
Everything bristled for then

Symbolism weighed in
As a shortcut: Some future from the past thinking & writing as if.

Midnight horror porn, cheesy parody paying homage to its subject.

Nudes mean more when their heads are chopped.

Pass the white gloves.


It’s amazing
It seems cuckoo

A little before four in the afternoon.

I had this idea. No traceable ethnicity. 
Not like gogo boots or a crucifix or ...  
longer eyelashes to bring your pupils out.   
 
We have a cigarette for the beach.  
What do you think of smoking?   
 
No, I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this before.  
That’s why I slept so poorly last night.   
 
For if I tell you, you’ll say  
I’m making a big deal out of nothing.   
 
You know I’m two-faced. What? Nothing. All right...   
 
We can make the poem mute. If it doesn’t  
speak, we don’t have to pay it as much.  
 
A wordless deaf-mute. What could  
be more what you are?

We can blame fiery beaks

stemming out, ruining our nails.

A headboard with no utility other than hooks.

Can we cut to the knowledge creation part?
And a chorus is plural en scene where our fiction holds.

Leaving you like a health threat... future

Celebrities are a cemetery’s anchor tenants. They bolster thru their ongoing fame the promise of eternal life.

Yes or no, certainly. & all right.
Once winning the beginning, now smoldering,

“The float is radiant, jammed with radiant things.”
Back I said, a piece of funereal advice.
Reputations precede character, tact of apprehension remains
Deferentially. Death masks are a precondition in reprieve.

Our politics are criminal. 
I’m going to try and get around this  
(the way it is).  
 
I’m going to take my inside voice  
...over here I have news to  
twist in cold leafy acreage.  
‘Come here, get out of here..  
I’m out of here..’ other poll data  
. . Out and out of  
mind I guess —  
 
That’s how we want it.  
Absolute vice concerns phrasal pyrotechnics,  
no progress.

Mists of time even the score (mists in a tie). My blood sugar is aroused.
It was here a minute ago.

I keep my mouth shut, listening,  
Escalating all synonyms to inhabit received logic.  
I’mmeasuring a timeline by chance. I’m  
For concentrating on coloring in valuable sounds, also 
 
Pushing the most extreme among core arts,  
Refining defiance as self defense.  
 
This introduces the cult of the squish
Factor. (My luggage did this to me.)