Ghosts? Zombies? No. That market is unregulated & inefficient.
I put in a skylight instead. For my

Newest apartment, top floor in your building, a small
Bedroom, kitchenette, barely a sitting room with parts of a sectional.
One wall papered cloud patterns, washed grassland, blue woods, lemurs.

Mad in pursuit.

Conformity is a serious consequence and like plain verse, an urban hazard
And it’s well to recall that hated, swallowed feeling inside you and me, too,
How prominently your joyful spritz became an asking price.

(End of asking)

To deodorize verse confirms what?

129: That slap in the face is harder to explain now,
on purpose laid to make the taker mad — a waste..
 
Traffic jammed under the apartments — tropical reaction — 
A cruel lemon sliver caught in your savage nose, past reason,  
Extreme, cruel, tangy..  
Romeo and Eurydice. A rude joy proposed behind a dream. Just a wedge. 

A truffle and goat cheese pizza, for all its ambition, feels contrived next to Talking Chimp.
The Talking Mallard Dogs sounded as good as they looked, they learned how to speak for themselves, and they came off so authentic you and your pet would think they were Talking Chimps. But they produced only vowel sounds from a larynx implant device.
Talking Chimp is laughing now unable to stop rubbing down there. Spa services await you, Talking Chimp!

A mind is a beautiful tool of late capitalism (the unwitting effect and cause).

Capitalism stands erect, at the American curbside, eyes unblinking, a whiff of more aroma, waiting.


Capitalism then gets to open up its dude ranch, akin to rustic manufacture, the gig economy spreads further west to prey on the drunk and disorderly. This is the highway slugs run out on, leaving us a little dizzy. You’re the 10th dude / muse..


I was wondering wha ...

The mind sits there. It wants to be best
friends. It’s saved us burgers.

Ladies, we’ve made some decisions.

Ladies will be tailored upstairs conserved for the surface
torn off mountainous pates (veined with wood),
in a rage and afterlife like phosphorous’s.
And you see, Leo was dismissive of Gertrude’s writing. Stein took
a working vacation, arranging piss flowers. Then Bianca!
Without that sweet sous-prefecture of brotherly disdain
she may not have gone hunting for the glimmer in Alice’s voice.

A murderer’s son asks for poetry about poetry,
a quick exit from cultural doubt and underworld bloodlines.

“Every man is a Rimbaud issue, be mine as we consider
relaxing colloquy, northern flickers w/ masked ducks or
an illustrator in oils at noon, someone who routinely does things
that would be awesome if intentional.

Purple black teal will be exaggerated.”
The son is in control, revealed by the sounding-it-out tools.

Very good: Very goo. I mean knocking all repenters
off, throwing knives, wrecking them from the inside, slicing up!

“A game of obeisance is long overdue. And I’m back in the dog pound, now
reading and writing without an attorney. That’s how the paint sails.”

Been holding our tongues. That’s how it works. 

Non-interference taking charge, under which an authentic kindergarten, bourgeois language, genetic dance and charades get raised and quest is forcibly asserted. Working against deadline shapes the last phase of withdrawal from our deadlock with future attributes. Oedipus meantime, our founder, targeted a fan like me because of ageless obligations to familial platitude, his camouflage in plain view, the better part of stiff winds over centuries-old middle ground.

There is no name then it’s absence and torment. His life is built around sane choices w/ a sense of one person, even though in a few seconds, I’m in memory * of that person to come. Haw. 
 
Some don’t hear clearly when one’s “voice” joins others’ to deepen ultimately anonymous expressions of desire. * The memory part is mostly vice versa.

I’m lost? I’m not familiar
with the neighborhood?

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

Got my back?
I got you. It’s okay.

You sure that’s why you’re here?

Song: How long have you planted thoughts without class balance?
Teaching can’t be taught. Or

let me pull an invisible

to the eye hair off your blouse to increase the speed.

I hardly know myself. And will never know you. I’ll give you a call.

Ah, I read before the body is loaded with symbolism for all seasons. So I’m leaving disjunction behind. To work with you (our holistic plan) is one way to avoid subjectivity as a nominal fallacy.

To be anyone who will die isn’t perverse, it’s in the grief code.

— that’s the sport in self presence, staying yourself, perhaps, to squelch actions that seem certain when hidden by how far we are beaten into their projections. Self presence.

It’s looking like this is the rag decade, and the worst part —

we made messes all over to go with the last one, where we were lost and then

I contest the following.
“Gogol, Nikolay Gogol, with an M.A. in these matters, says gut feeling, sane behavior and noncriminal discourse teeter on the grotesque.” I can’t turn that down. I can’t propose only what his language suggests.

115: Devouring you and reckoning... I love you best, babe. A doubting aspect of my fiction holds. (I could not love you more in the course of altering things.) I have no clear incentive to divert strong minds. Nay,
mindless myself of taking chances, since I’ve already changed through fierce blunt talk — too much talk and I’ve raised a toast to loving you too desperately... The certain madness of it, as my judgment’s grown less certain over the course of a million accidents (how angry rewrite gets, afterward) and how it makes your tan beauty (and me) enflamed for pale, poker-faced poets like Rene.

Blushing news.. unlikely
Accidents. One time I was inconsonant. Or..

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

Does a face brake a fart?
You had on your fabulous eye blush from a while ago. Cunning
Thing is every cadet had it goes without saying a probability before
The surge in votes —

And all of us now are blown up by
Getting wind of revoking

Our oomph only if it has not taken effect,
Holding us afloat.

Instructions are errands in advanced circles, to tell or read it as fake v. the real fake sprawl with the naked around Marie Antoinette’s. They were textually modern, respectable Euro folk: They undressed for success

and survival. They avoided careers that were intellectually focused, peering
back and soaking up the city among savages of their own designs.
I’m my own boss.

The flamenco troupe darts of light & sweet algorithms in chunks.

(The subtracted j-walkers return with renditions from a counterculture.)

I’m thinking of giving head, until my spinal column heats up, thinking of you.

What’s my business? The pinholes told me to go off, and that led to my holding

all these volatility models from T.V., an omnibus vocalism in a sense.
Points ahead are to enable the passing tourneys among tense Fu dudes
to nuance hidden risks shifting weight (a merging accounts request).

Modern proceedings are bated like these day after day, not stopping, not finishing..

Driving over taking stock of action figures.

What did they spell? slender objectives before obstacles. To follow instructions, slippers are warmed; the commissary sits down in the sub-chamber, aimlessly glistening. I’m often holed up on the second level with a few major issues from another time, then, much like Byronic properties.

A fragrance is found shaking your head and mine, wiping our brows.
The soaking stairs float, for good, if they could.
— a weakening of the night body — today ’til night — one enzyme waking up isolated above all, a seeming eternity.. that pertains still (still as my whole life).

I’m not a failure sometimes.

Freedom is that personal.. night after the super moon — diodes in crimson, a soft spot for a shine of success, the beach magnified, ironically revived!

Who owns outside under socialism?

You sit in the outdoor room to dwell on differences, crispnesses in whispers in air.
Your sleep is like a process language.
Your daydreaming is languidly pensive. It’s coming back, back... no..

no to workdays of glyphic turmoil ground into torpid incision, no to prophase. No!

No contusion of the supremacist spheres.

You’re saying no to virulent, callow stances and off key covers and grim ball-bearings.

But seismic colors are a yes. No loss of brilliance but haunted respite.

A note to capitalist rats, since the poor make us sick — stuck, instead, learning the plane facts by heart in capsule surveys

: the pace is noncommittal (not nothing) if you don’t inhabit what you’re saying, shhhh ... Yes, fool, you sick intern — bobbling,
Learning about how to learn renders rote memory uncool (& fatuous) even if officialdom won’t understand when we step away.

As we advance, there are four thousand references from which to plagiarize our proposals, while the materials become more complex, building on what’s been said —

yielding faster access to the obscure but brightest reference table with sof’ freaks — handsome, sniffed all over, never complicated, staring down our bitewings.

This just in — jokes turn into dreams. It’s dreaming that forgave us for everything (except melancholia). That’s because ideas, ‘sleeping while awake,’ get downgraded to icy normality in dreams, trapping you and me inside a force field owing to our prior expertise. That is, dreams.

So there’s no lack of opportunity in experimental states before twenty.
The ideal Cupid fell out of place in a man’s body

but staying in the picture. Voice changes and all.

You’re both bat shit over it. Well, I really enjoyed it. 95 percent. For this is how badinage rifles thru consequences. How fronds drop their tendrils, unstopping scents, 4 wheels 1 approach, a moon roof, lounging in queue for our next meal. You can’t predict what you are going to intake, and there aren’t enough shortcuts to go around to encapsulate your suspicions.

What does he look like now? It’s ok to ask?

Snaps of skepticism, sharpened anomalies.

An etude like celebrity.

patched in resistance, creating busy, making-chaos “work” enacting a more cautionary afterlife, absent trifles and your intuitive psychiatry.
The music took off about here, 1st looked wonderful along the quays with embarrassed breakpoints to the past, thinning out in the high style of dining (Otto Dix). Something hesitant.

Worth repeating.



We weren’t orphaned, we decided not to get re-elected to you
as concurrence will proliferate out to here if you try,
if you have the confidence ..
We wiretap the secrets you weigh —

Total lunacy.
On the other hand, I can’t forget this is for you now.
Enjoy your revisionist’s view
moaning about diffusion at any cost,
any cost to render your mouth a submersive mess.

A cynical swarm steps over and above battle monotones. Our direction shifts as our nervous systems distort exchanges in love so long as the sexes are divided. I’m so a wielder of a goaded identity. But if you or I decry how compromised I am, we miss the point, generally.



Time to release the affinity shapes. I think I’ll stop before that.

(On the other hand, I get kind of overstimulated by bland generalizations as I wouldn't know how to come down on many bland issues with start-stop disputes.)

There is nothing but an emergent zone of autonomy to find a prosthetic like lack of despair. Except when you think it over.

Testimony, transit to.

To float in unlicensed undercurrents from a mature avantist is not much of a surprise. We testify to others as bona fide avantists, with demeanors buoyed by a calming, enlightened refusal that likely rubbed off during their early intake of an illusory social imagination.

Or don’t know. (Transiting auto-refusal.)

I picked up in a flier my soul is a hypothesis. Since the soul thrives in new enterprises and ecologies, you and I begged its wiggly self to swim further and stick with a sublimely experimental school of thought, to rally for more than this textual ceramic holding sprays of looking glass.
Sudden lightning over fogs of drizzle. Over ravines. Knower and the known, all branches, all matter — 

You and I went for all 3 doors assuming no threshold ahead where materiality can’t exist. No dissonance, no interruption.   
 
Three ways could also be the middle,   
 
since Buddha and Buddhists are different things.

A trivalent bond forms at birth that delays our death.

There are two ambient music cartels as well — both striking poses with all their operatic powers. De rigueur for now is writing over known injury to outrank others in the trivalence of thieves. I won’t do your religion, good day.

Just piano and voice. Sunken gardens with a fountain of moods dedicated to each of four graves.

I wish you had taken that job singing of thingness.  
Even so, if you could eat only one food for life, what would it be? “Take notes,” you called out. You were holding back first throbs as you forced his from the inside.     

I miss the walled city where an operator like him looks up when you arrive at this next step . .   

Try to remain calm. I’m going to talk you down. 

We’ll take the stairs; the elevators refuse to go with operators in them. (Ok, you there? Bye.) 

— I haven’t slept a wink — Try sleeping pills. 
Yah. Well, that’s a good idea.   
 
I know I’ve been deceitful, but I had my reasons.
Maybe they were dumb reasons, but they were reasons.  
 
I never said I was the best man in the world.  
 
Give me a little credit, will you, credit for being someone...  
 
who tried to love you the only way he knew how.  
 
I know that speech  
 
— You do? — pantaloons last April...  
 
when Devon met Bolt’s empyrean nephew.  
Oh, God.  
— Get out — Please try to understand.  
 
The measure of all histories remains constant. — No need to use that language.   
 
Get out! Now!

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 upgrade filling in ahead with capacitance-assistants. They’re already converted.

Theorists of a visually astute world culture secure camaraderie. They propose and maintain bestiaries wholly populated by the good. Details unpublished. After dark trails. Tons.

We just saw (a few feet minutes from now, however)
your address changed. We could have done it differently before
you discovered the user charts; the parent company was yours even before you took over.

You’re not going to be delirious are you?
Just for a patch of language..? good for you —
taking me from sleep where I rewrite chain letters you refuse to answer...

Good for you!

José has a libido viewable within either antic construction
In a cabin for paired centrists, a flight down,
A perimeter of memory foam and asphalt where metamorphoses are cast away.
In deep ride we round this off in latinate stencils for amnesia’s willfully
Fixed width.

Spirals discharge. You were great, shook up, yoked.

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

A private-public distinction (covid-19 “is bad”)
No longer limits outcomes for a buffered work force. 

Keeping your writing up
giving empathy, suffering distress,
You write my agenda, 

A vapidly growing ‘fortune in recession’ 
Once I launch it — 

— Back I said, a piece of financial and career advice.

We smelled a rat. We’re still in the wait space. Your name came up on my web tooth. Capacious, breathtaking anxiety, yes, refusal to arbitrate glamour, okay... you’re done. In a footloose world your body loads up on symbolism.

Go ahead, chat up everyone here. But take care, the next stage of trolling pillagers is fickle. Then it begins, your life is over. Love & money go down together. Rats.

Yes, you know gobs of cash, living well, poof. Question, tho... I’m just curious having compulsively misplaced most of life’s grotesqueries,

Does a possessing narrative reveal how & where stories are planned, stories that transcend time & place inside a game simile where we are the meta-players?

I write for money and music. Money 1st. It’s in the blood. 
What’s wrong with a billion for two   
circulating in a branch of Chase 
with no memory how it got there? 
 
Otherwise we’re tied up. It’s kind of a slide knot. We have functional emotions, as well as this much-traveled vocabulary of affects. 
To learn something about what you or I mean is to let fine fettle overcome despair and swamp entropy. For a quiet start, take down zero gravity bans. But we don’t keep any larvae. They’re apart. Their cloying song goes out kind of mutely and you feel a need to ache in their baby blue blather, calmly, accruing intimacy. Hey — 
 
Never stop exploring.  
 
1st up, show us your travel documents!

Violence takes over. Breathtaking. 

Auto-electrocuted. But calmed down. No more texting, due to sore thumbs. There’s a dual nature of justice going around in “resentment and forgiveness” with high notes we won’t deflate, given my muggy, fantastic tenor. Jittery, practically soundless often, active against the v meme. But I reach points at which violence is traceable in my voice and draws me in. 

Your snobbishness killed us, them. 
No monks wrote the inscription for our ashes, reading: Just because we’re not there to floodlight what we know doesn’t mean we weren’t Bodhis swimming exhausted / each physique w/ hammer in hand. Nailing our souls together takes a moment of our lives that we don’t have, don’t love too much.  
 
Whatever takes substance and breadth, we’re not doing it!

The 3 P’s. Psyche, pterodactyl, phooey.

Not to arouse undue heresy, your wellbeing was my concern. It isn’t safe yet. I won’t forget.  And that does it for rehearsal. Proud exclamations to postpone further taping advances an indirect narrative that steps in slowly, carefully waving gold torches in flames, pressing us into feeling nervous in observed time. Many observers. 
I’m a little I guess confused. 

I thought you might understand I mean  
I’m surprised, do you know  


what I’m saying? I guess so  


not exactly.

You & I wonder about summer’s eternal
possessions, the buds, shade & a day
staying chaste .. it’s on the house. 
Feels great out ahead until there’s a threshold. 

In those same terms there’s too fierce
a reliance on making out 
Optimizing the center where death dies.
It will take more than a single changing course
to snatch life from time, breathing hard if we could see. 

I’ve always been about to point. 
(I have a rival who keeps me on his toes.)  
Next we should be giving in  
To shake you tamed, Dart.  
 
I’m anti-secular ever since  
The craftmatics forgot to wave, too  
Cool from so many drug substitutes.  
I said that, made it a quote: A dream  
 
Of tomorrow before the cart.  
Of course there’s a way out or two.  
We’re out on a date, now  
In a ritual to outlast how nice that is.

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 
...give up missing your skin

...a good amount, meaning?
That would be as far as I get
with you so solid a fool and wonder.

$ transfer: I’m sleep.
An only hill / a huge stage
I’ve been searching
Awake most nights, debates that decay:
A clean face in the morning − caped
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light, the best

When I spot dogs and the wood in salt air
Together, like them and like us.
Can you dig stillness? Can you keep an eye out, the ocean over.

Wistful, wistfully unnerved
the moral valet

Semi-ethically fondled
A free hand betrayal.
(Scrub jouissance
reformulating innocence.)

Hardline presence,
self-obvious.

A warm nearly winter day.  
 
Solved for the resplendent spelling, with no remorse.  
Now it’s a year later, a fine day emanating  
Good news tho.  
 
Typo, I’m too late; it’s fitting, weeping inside before you go away.  
 
Not at rest, circumspect. (I’m just beginning...)  
Well, most every worry is bilateral, based on trying to review  
Hellish varieties of you getting fingerprinted from eight  
Perspectives, after the xvith-century Italian drawings..  
 
..The stars are early, out and out of their miseries  
One boomerang day after another. Every day’s  
Important, you see. I remember your aroma, surnamed olivedi quelli  
Illuminati.

Amerigo fell into swelter in untamed aromas 
that led his black olive dogs to you, making clear    
 
his off rhyme, his blank stare =  
a blast furnace expending heat.   
 
Amerigo pulls the curtains revealing the dog-permitted street  
where pet people pass by in walk-on roles.   
 
My quandary repeats among aromas from hydrangea in labor  
Yet it’s with Bonnard’s vision of pleasure I’d be holding you for conniving to carpet silence. O Amerigo — 
Another wish unfulfilled as you and I round off contrasting demands of flimsy seriality and sequence, conquering death with more choices and repose.

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 index ‘of us’ is advanced thru textuality within a dominant tribal identity tracing out how to refine / displace our contempt. 
Marxist-self goes for irony here:  
I’m a neo-accepter of making and being flecks of misnomers. 
Eating and breathing them too.

There are faith that’s gone on & consequences. There comes an enrollment point you caught your waxwork hologram in a partner’s eyes. 
Ventriloquating is something.  
No one’s favorite word yet — nice aftershave, Rene  
..I got wind of it & put you in —  
Can you be “quoted” in any meaningful sense?  
We have two arrays for time/money & harmony:  
 
The ass comment — I know you meant juniper  
within a philosophy (in movement thru spatial dimensions)  
(& the aura of a scent) forward! 
 
Draft 12

We reach some element (full sail) within the (verse) set where touch management is unleashed, by spirits taught. But the scenery goes abstract beyond diagram while the crew calms down for later. There’s a dual gist to ghost anonymity moved within a bright pulling apart at the summitry of escape (anticlimactic escape).

What’s semiology? Our moral purpose feels rehearsed unless we tackle figuring it out.

Our novel then will be about reading, a traveled world, not sick of fear of exercise, volunteering undressed.

First your learning cannot be but suspect.
And learning one other gist from I-Ching for dummies (like me):
Do go on.

0) nothing horrible, just horrible 
 
1) both perceptions of opposites leveraged simultaneously  
2) meaning not one and more original than none  
3) causing internal illogic along w/  
4) passing out on an ashen chaise, you’re coming back to your senses, you’re shouting   
 
5) I love your idea but I repent only to appease you   
 
6) ‘first thought / never think’ both lose both death and life

Condition blue. 
Ten or so 
bars kick it off, racing 
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.

We would need payment and your signed form
Forgotten for dead but still in view:
If we put our hands..
you can’t hear me you’re going too fast (bicyclist to bicyclist).

I’m a conservative about behavior. That’s before I put on your fragrance —  
 
A calm never resolved —  
because we’re only one muppet and one marine  
reigning over Proustian project boards, cost curves, our endless waves of shame. 

The proscenium brightens. Overflow slender. 
Is it inhibiting our endowment?   
 
Knowing the ropes now, even knowing your sub-luminous substance,  
I’m clearing my life of thin comforts,   
 
stern food pecked over 
downstage left.
‘In a way’, you said, ‘nothing saved me
until we ran the gauntlet —’

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. Speaking of which, you remind us there — blasts of cold air  
Stoked by an invasion of intimacy.

We invented the infant guise.  
Had to. What we thought we understood  
we enjoyed making ‘dumb-  
great’ from the top  
terminating with following orders  
 
so our whole adulthood inflects immunity  
with sudden desire and intimacy.  

What can be done to apathy over time? I register nothing. Nothing again? 
 
Tedium is poor experiment, an acting adjunct said. And that’s what we wrote down to snap out of it — lightness, joy, eyes-open, no daydream. Not even a cousin to daydream: fanaticism and fact checking are clean assimilation in reverse! It’s clearer every day we’re way behind the suitably flared zoological frontier.  
 
Time I guess to lower your eagerness and cover it with a pile of dinged Swiss Army knives. 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,”  
Yet, it’s dying, “never death.”
I consider head scratchers tedium managers. They carry their own genetic information but don’t understand. Fact checking zealotry skips a generation, again.

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

It was nice to have known you. 
A word travels, calibrated by a ruckus-like paean spoken (rather than speaking) in a large-scale outreach and dialectic — spoken because we both wrote it down to shun sickness and welfare,  
 
license before comeuppance, soul dad —   
 
Make that shortstop outreach where all the jazz wears off.   
We’ll sink together deliberately mismatched, yet ignited around the tips by deep compatibility, a healthful state, when we purge   
 
the sea and air, driving it back to a crawl, to a spot to talk.

I go back to when no Murphy bed was necessary or chic. Tempus fugit. Take
an interest in opulence & stratagems bequeathing us

sherbet, oomphy comforts & massive inflows of feel-

ing great! The brands are awesome taken to far corners, above
shopping sprees, which are migratory patterns.
Sprees get disrupted but don’t let up.

Your first lover could not heal your mind through his skin.
Then we happened to answer you, seeing the wind fixed on the floor
and circling midair. We see your subtle flight.
We don’t want to be a second late for all we are hellbent over.
That, and we understand we can meet without seeing you.

You said no way, I don’t like it, blah! / Or / our
partners..

exaggerated our losses because this is how we understand
your taste, what do you think? Understand?

That’s a gist.

Mere research reports what’s on your mind.
Why not reflect it in my text?
One lie can never be replaced by another
It contains.

Photons rebuild the world, leaping out of windows 
Moving in our direction with startling humility and alacrity..  

Here I am as genealogies of sophists file off.  

Rebuilding our democracy requires transitive honor tied to esthetics that are numbing.   

I’m the underdog here, emotionally maligned, an amalgam “I” and “am”..
My own revels and composites meet me halfway in assault value.
Is this a document or did I make it up? 

And it’s not clear you and I will answer questions that require specific,
distinctive thought like that I think of a welding head, until my spinal column
heats up, thinking of you.

Solitary dark
                    the air pushes..aside

— tilting your head with no untoward parts, transfixed silhouette
— the Demon Puff in his plumage / his 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, not —

the boat’s cortex holding out ..

Let’s start with the a, b, c’s of it.

I see your inside vice, 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.’ Glad you came.

23 hours ago the idea of writing took some time. Times. A mindset occupied, just so jokes turn into dreams. It’s dreaming that forgive us for everything (or almost everything except belief in redemption). That’s because ideas, when they’re ‘awake,’ self-downgrade to icy paranoia, trapping you and me inside a force field owing to our expertise.

So there’s no dead end.

Heraldry’s message is mixed but never better aligned. The call center serves as hideout, learning the ropes, perusing scraps and parts of beauty and hope.

Pigeons pattern the exponents where detachment is trimmed.

We have no major issues just shady aftermath horoscopes.
And to think a way out, we can blur the ground and yield authority to sit and watch dogs turn smoky brown tracking vans in drizzle, tarnished from sight, playing against a stack of old storm windows, within a composure for light a blazon can’t reach.

Didn’t they t ell you  
thinner tones & soft muscularity are proof      
— our brains are stolen; after that ordeal  
 
we wander back home muttering “TV,   
TV,” a mildly eccentric suburbia   
waiting for a payday of awe-inspiring relaxation.    
 
Talk? You hoped we might &?

After the decline of the XIX century,
The state held sway on the 2nd floor near the jerk room.

Eminent domain: Paranoia passed out. Young & ugly you & you were next.
Nothing dumped into drinks

Not to arouse the unknown or undue, your well-being was my one concern.
Few invitations.. I won’t forget.
And that does it sometimes for this hour. New world circumstances
Will postpone further equity together w/out & because of you.
O damn, dancing, can’t complain, when you and your children
Left we had chipmunk...

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

Then the chandeliers giggled a bit.

Adoring you is a full service enterprise and a moral politics! where leverage follows its bliss.

Kindly explain leverage inside a more collaborative framework.
Sure, I’ll leverage our last minute or two deeply missing you. There you are!
But how long have we been planting thoughts with no precursors, no
conventional frame for regeneration or gender balance? Maybe it’s a mistake,
collaborating on travel this close to a fault line... I grant you that.


Sloganeering is back. Join today.

Alt right, verse’s meta-conscious. On the surface, voice projects text like selfies, “poking” materials, assemblies, even one’s audience. Selfies however adhere to full, reticent agendas.
Pedagogic systems schedule exams on dominant samples. Absorbing that syllabus is high achievement, praised and sustained so long as it’s duplicable.

Rightist epistemology’s key reinforcements: skillsets bias encompassing math, socio-graphs, algorithms — as well as strict observance of procedural rules.

I’ve got to hold back. Not bob around.

This is in response to the commerce-vector coursing through pop concepts, bringing unique comfort to support our cushy position in the food chain, which is evermore in dispute.

I adhere to the same late-filing rule as you. We are keepers of decades at night.

Love is moaning all right. I’m almost a novice enthusiast.. but years from now.
Then, inscrutably I’ll break down and sob.

I went to hell with you.
The unoccupied mind long overdue. 
 
Meantime I was losing a fortune in darts...  
While I keep my mouth shut & listen,    
Escalating with all my sharpened implements to inhabit received logic.    
I’m retracing what I think you see. I’m   
Mastering every projectile color, finding new names,     
 
Pushing the most oblivious among motion arts,    
Tai-chi of self-watch. There. And these     
 
Steps entangle bosons of mine, yours along with everyone  
Rushing us toward long careers in revision & redefinition...  

1 enclosure without a pulpit, no dogma...
outdoor passages to enter then exit sponsorship
spreading out in self-willful overloads of

Skilled chattel, de-simplified, or notional contracts
between science and who knew?
Ironic technologies without precedent —
A corporate hold across manners and adaptations, restrained praxis
and hermetic syntax, all noun phrases.

Often my partner sits in a compound, deliberately passive-aggressive like back in pre-school.

I’m kidding. I’m alone.  
In our farewell, as I saw it, our descendants built us a museum to spy
on us & others. They look great — stomping in genomic bloodlines. That’s their
moonlight, indispensable for smearing whirlpools

down cell walls that follow a trajectory
aimed at every atom of us both in maroon cords.

Bad news, I was 
struck by an intellectual property owner. You know,  
plagiarism done in loose quotes.  
It’s cold indirection (sangfroid),  
but my metabolism really took off, along  
with emotions from a huge songbook  
I’m defrosting,  
 
‘quote’ watching text warm up with hellbent pleasures  
refined by distance; since  
it’s none of the above ‘end quote.’ This could be for you now.

Anchored in the bay I need to remind myself 
L Kearney rhymed all with skull, internally. P Inman’s  
Echelon hairnet shifted putty, thumb-nailed into  
An agreement to let us in. Skull with putty.  
Urgent, dizzy, it all comes down to earth.  
 
The more you put your fingers in it, on it, on earth,  
you know retouches, colorations return as audible signs  
of evidence-based reproof of making fitter  
(more adhesive) decisions for correct behavior.

Attention, drudge.

As you advance, there are four surveillance cultures from which to plagiarize any response, while materials become more complex, building on what’s been put on record.

Is that all you’re having for dinner?

One will need a clearer message for individual agency. There’s no humor in discretion. Wind in your hair makes us sick.
We can provide hacks for frenetic formality. And when you come to a three-syllable term you don’t know, you can apply your manual dexterity to nab the one-syllable crib.

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

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

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

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