After glamour there’s revisionist power, a legacy inside us. Wo- 
lfed down improv crap — we’re pre-wired or is there a fee? 
Radiance now is in a lather. Remember deliverance?  

“What if it doesn’t work. Then what?” Everything works. 
In any time and place of our choosing: Act gathered, there.  

True love brings on a physician practiced in the art of relapse.

Any non empirical approach compels outsourced argument.

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

efficacy for streamlined intake. Soak up the view.

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

I don’t know that much about you [hh.. ] but you remind me of someone
Who can recall profound formality taking shape not that far off, quelling torture.
Half a day goes by and

You are [hh.. h..] unattainable,
Hypersensitive to chaos, a thing to uphold.

Pull over, [hiccup] this is serious.
Soft fear and recurring despair, the flip end to formalism ...

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

— with a kill-agenda — tickled into corruption. 
Here is one place you and I may detect a language driver, untidy and young   
 
and speaking up without permission. In other words,    
 
young grammar gets somewhere then stops. The meaning of wind withers our good looks.    
 
In mentalist rhetoric one lives language over to outrun one’s sophistry.

There are too many of you to paraphrase.
Favorite singers reradiate the calmative afterlife attached to
Learned consensus turning to early love performance; both puerile in a hybrid present possessive voice, the going song’s deep pitch shows up inaudibly
in the hindbrain, Hun. Libido constitutes foreknowledge, glistening aimlessly.

Bruise will be stopping by later or presently. 

— since we have a method for choosing topics, don’t expect me after all.  
 
Even if we kiss later, it saddens one 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                      (‘the stolen parts’  
To run over) any & all mayhem coming unannounced (achieved).  
Or some won’t say since you & I separate thru flexible equations.  
 
Already saying goodbye takes us far up the jet trail! quelling fear of want-
Ing pain. You never can tell. I won’t.

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

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

And I’m back in my vertigo seat, reading over and writing disciplined boilerplate, fond of mnemonics.  
 
To explain further is to run up against narrative: actually a proxy measurement, one affected by all other expressions of interest over future time.
As the future holds, I’m lying about the lies we’re telling now.

Add your touch and everyone you touch, everything you see, good sounds and less dustup as you walk or sit along the surface nearby, fielding all pangs as well as faculties for balance, direction of toes and feet, tastes and smells, obscure motions, textures, feelings from everything so far.
Bring that..

It’s a kind slide knot. Or not. We have functional emotions and this much-traveled vocabulary of affects. 
To learn something about what you mean is to let fine fettle overcome despair, overcome entropy. For a quiet start, try zero gravity. But you don’t keep any larvae. They’re apart. Their cloying song goes out mutely and you feel a need to ache in their baby blue blather, calmly, accruing intimacy. Hey — Never stop imploring. 
 
* 
Show us your papers, fly! 

We were used by demolition pros,
sliced, etc. Oh
You were fantastic,
an arms race in refuge.

This is the bridge.
Have you been?

Tasted great.
And after

Lilacs with mesh
without a searchlight to blemish
the vapor

Polarized as boats
keel and cover rubber planks
across their reflection.

On one side: complex gangly, mostly mute. They apologize for the inconvenience.
Tons of special forces in silhouette .. we’ll ..
let’s try to put into words from juked electronics simulcasting through longer views.
Near the power hilltop filling with theorists of a visual world culture wholly populated by posturing.

Donald Trump projects and feeds off the hypocrisy of American behavior,
especially through non-ironic discourse.

Blatantly careless, docile or not, seems a new daring.. 
I have no idea.. it’s handed to me..
The deliberate downgrading of the presidency 
More than fair warning — 

See ya,
Putin

The crisis is not an 
object but life movement, explosions  

funneling a hegemonic pulsation — and due to substitution  
Gustave Flaubert haunts this o
 
beside your double vanity, while keeping fit ...  
 
On the run, playing with tribal goals, how funny you are..  
There are bass chords you kept inside.  
Between descriptions, silence, a periphery.  
 
No way to describe — much less rhyme — hiding on the loose.   
 
Loosely hiding? Let’s compost for a mo.   
 
Flaubert loose in the air wonders how high an apartment we’ll have.

The cosmos in Part 2 is unwilling to go far from the service corps in nonstop heat. 

... you’re right.. your whole throat pivots from joking around a ringing of attention-grabbing hysteria.

The cosmos in Part 1 then is unexplained. 

In the mental part, covert specialists use tightly wound divergences in expression to gain advantage for incriminating thoughts. Their goal is to march with humanists halfway — paternalism indulged through wisecracks.
Inky smoke up next, releasing a genocidal collage of screens, like 
thinking in agitated waves, reproached, disappeared 
in drumming opinions and worst practices — 

Tho the corps we request will go off the board.

Language is spoken better where it’s taught. While you’re at it 
sing out and fudge your correspondence. Then get off on your  
resonance and offer joint events that promote your own ventures!  
Professor, this ballad of how especially the ivory tower  
is under entrepreneurial influence  
— it’s a hair shy of failure as a tune or concession   
 

to breaching cultural ergonomics — all of it.

Let’s feed the appetite that picks up from nature “to express things ... as they are when one sees them without remembering having looked at them.” Committed to formal blocking thru stagecraft, maintaining an indomitable temperament. All seniority evaporates as a text refuge where nature, our last line of offense, draws attention as an ironic condition, a peripheral attraction. 

To be objective and lack will. 
 

An incident unveiled as ambition.  
What are meta-resonators for but to effect command over and about objectives we’re uncertain or we don’t want to get that serious about / over? There’s nothing but an eyeblush of this over and about on the one day willpower seems a desperate measure, and in reckless hands.   
 
Feeling a depth charge covering your lips with un-despairing I can’t contain.

Rare flutes in drizzle 
shining from sight:  
 
We hardy knew Dionysius.   
 
A flesh-eating virus attacked, aged him.  
 
We never forget and we do not forgive. Even tho we’re too fat to have insurance, our moms were always supportive. Viruses bring this on. The wind too. Boo is emphatic. Shivers of a sigh, I made messes all over the nestling ground to suit a creative purpose.   
 
At least I have my integrity.

Doctors approved the utility of lingerie, 
throwing us a softball, a good idea we  
maintain another focus.  
Sex toys are a good idea; until 
I went broke I was indebted  
to them.  
 
In one direction the focus  
is nearly lost. Yes, it’s scary (testy 
at first, blasé, getting bored)  
 
yet there are comic possibilities  
as most dreams seem to  
be saying. Another focus  
is adolescence. We power  
 
our own, mounting a bait  
and switch to chalk up the board 
and another board 
drawn into a new bloodbath of witty planning. 

You were in the settlement. 
We were sitting there, and  
I made a joke about it.. how  
it doesn’t dovetail: time,  
one minute running out  
 
faster than another time in front  
that catches up.  
That way, I said  
there can be no waste.  
Waste is left out of the settlement.   
 
To come back for a few hours to  
the present tense, an instagram,  
looking like it was being seen, half- 
turned backward, slightly moist, reading us.

Been reading about accelerating destruction in the Amazon. A chunk the size of Rhode Island or larger burns down each year. This malpractice yields rich farmland that’s productive for about four or five years. After that, the soil turns into dust and sand. 
Carports for farmers, then, are an interim step. Dust when it rains becomes haze and steam, the color of moist illusion, bubble-like. 
 
You were in the settlement.  
We were sitting there.

This is my deciding moment. As a consequence doors open before I’m auto-electrocuted. 
 
And that’s good, because I snuck across the catalysts. (It’s what I’m good at, wearing pajamas as weapons.)  
My plan thus converts to the meantime. So you detect I’m pretending to be a spontaneous asshole, intimating death is over. 
(Yet cartoons are not analysis.) 
And spaces left open are not nothing. 
 
Every Harvey Keitel film substantiates we may have a gun, we could be reaching for a gun, or we could just be, in essence, fronting.

Year after year we heal ourselves, each cell in our bodies spinning starboard. Cells are factories, at bottom; we are factory owners. One says the seas of government are primed for enterprise. One says what another says which is normal, not new now, never. We are natural organisms running out of time.

In a mean (like now) perspective Bartok reached for 
the moon. How is that helpful?  
With your brand one constant, you cut the rest off.   
 

It brought down the red curtain, with a curtain rod staff.   
 


Having it, you hobble   
 

Away like a name dropper.   
 
Emotions where they don’t belong.  
Blues by Corelli.

Dear foundationalist,
I’m thinking of a color — no name.. an antsy-ness 
running everywhere that’s off — waiting for some big thanks 

there was nothing & then a voice  
went upstairs & locked the door. 

                               A voice with cavities.

Dear foundationalist,

You’ve been expelled for a month, next week.. experimenting with yourself.. 
leaving a sneezing grid with rectangular doors opening to violent sprinkles & irresolution...

Errant is not mistaken for arbitrary. 
In a way paisley just throws all its games..  
2 spiral arrays for time & harmony within a philosophy (moving spatial dimensions)  
a few moments forward.   
 
Paisley’s inference, compressed form, a ‘crown’ of contradictions  
veer in dimensional rhetoric  
superseding nature’s. Cosmos, not not unhappy.

Any emphasis prepares the manifold; earlier accounting systems join the 1st probability of having you to touch & subsequently empower half the cost of what’s not said.
A true dictator shows us the assassin is uninvolved on every emotional level — even the one you hold inside and act on by serving others, the one bosses & ‘ritual’ overvalue.

Witch: Pass the white I think they’re gloves.
With further directions your understanding registered. 

Off the rack, but great 

— a good to a very good response 

inasmuch as speaking about or to you comes across the border over thin night.

One of corporate’s donor’s places resembles a Marine camp with sweeps of property edging a subdued enclave.  Of all the varied and fabulous pieces by new pianists I wager they are bursting with Euro personae — because of what they rock to, also because many exuding confidence have gotten past graduate school, the corporation, a breakthrough investment in the company.

Just push the button. 
Lament due to Rocket divorce feels monogomous.   
 
Chafed lips, with you or not, one emphasis is how  
your modalities give me butterflies and more chasing more of me — 10  
to the 10th power, all polygamists barnstorming thru  
our ad hoc hemisphere.

The longer I live it’s in front of me. 
 
A glow in seconds before a scheduled avalanche, fun ..and explosive. Wow.   
 
Or much like staying right in no now never.   
 
A preferred toothbrush has been abandoned. I’m forgetting about it.  
I’ll be heading out soon. Moving thru a lefty runoff. I won’t be funny or make a stab, relax or specify...   
 
I’m lost in the new geography.. O again.

Starts out as an immaterial change 
in orientation before we nail it in a book.  This
 
we fill in with letters reversing dirty words around closed circles.  
It’s raw data for symbol systems inside fresh alphabets  
helping us speak to other books & spreadsheets about sub-content  
& meta summaries in even newer physics w/ fresher markings.  
 
A steel door stays open. Here are the last letters of bliss.  
We best defer to the sharpest models to differentiate ranges. 
Deep blues, silvers in biological shades that form vowels;  
 
consonants have already taken shape from German models.  
 
This organizes 5 minutes infinitely without saying bless your heart.

An artisan’s voice stares ahead — if 
allowed. Read the outpost inspection. To continue,  
there’s asymmetry in her blowing glass. Especially when it rains   
 
glass takes finial shapes leaning more to peel off  
solving the perfection problem, but not remorse.

We have 9 pm poems and 4 am. Ever notice? 
I’m staying cool with it like a Javanese statistician.  
When information is relevant to sanctioned policy, communication goes private.  
Like when decisions should be centralized within a single metaphor for good caffeine.  
No personalities, please, only one writer / editor apiece
are left standing in rain assuming sun is still shining of late,  
nipping, filing matter, spinning, capturing the dress casual in waiting. 

Marriage makes me horror-struck 
 
Aghast in wake of our previous melancholy. 
Blindfolded angels thinking in the past —  
All mute waving back  
 

Protecting us from our known pasts and predicates,   
 

Taking on more physical pain, taking many more onboard, putting them   
 

In mind of us affiliates, at last.

Greyhound hurling on seesaw feels fine, 
Any footage balances when pushed, so it’s  
Not serene. A maelstrom lights  
Up a foreground, no questions asked. 
(I wagered my face the minute I handed it to you.) 
Pit Bull sits tangled in tree w/leash & kites.  
Corgi spinning in washing machine, a shiny fox.

What parts last fast? The cucumber ..were I a colorist. A so-called lode of fabulous glossary. Interesting for switching placidities!  
A mandate is just that.  
Why does your one face arrest? 
 
Not dying is not not wanting to die, a unique semantic potential assigned an inventory.  
 
There’s señor that needs you. He has no interest in poetry — I wonder if that’s true — His thoughts knitted together like mica piling up, shouts ricocheting through a voicetrack from the underbrush holding our breath, bounced, kicked and gloved by catalysts.

A monk asks,   
 
This is why I hate you   
 
and keep loving you under wraps?  
Take care, and take more time. Acts of omission are presorted, so they keep numbing, so like fixating on folks’ shoes. You can do this, feel free, cadet. But don’t expect to fill mine or my avoidance of frontiers, rejecting anarchism. 
These were the funniest jokes I know, the baldest too. I don’t remember laughing so much. Ever. And I can’t recall being as excited as I am.  
 
Space also presorts sometimes.

It’s probably a head cold. 
 
Unhappiness breeds from flu-like abundance. That’s about it.  
A common cold means at least a dozen things or more.  
An embedded satire about too much, just too much, and... 

You know what I think?  
 
A physical being hears what one wants, has a fever and takes in a lot  
Guessing this was a sample.  
 
And service areas are where we drive satire home and choose.  
Our upper hand is no joke. Correction, our lassitude is.

I think you get the hang of asymmetry, sir 
— living that music is wonky, a bit offensive.
You’re wide awake thinking it through  
until a subfocus gets lost. You grow accustomed,  

so to speak, directly oblique : pointedly no 1 name  
is escalated or united if out of proportion!  
 
Bon équilibre, some1 else can go choke & in a non asphyxiating language that
1 + a 2nd person, the “some1 else,” comprehends.  
What does 1 say? 
 
I’m Aldo.  
 
No, you are.  
 
We’re a special team. We’re circumspect; sharing mechanisms  (our pretexts) give no voice to parrot motifs over a long fly we back off to catch, nightly. 
 
What about cleverness and defaming character?  
Don’t be involved.  
 
What does 1 say? A few shaky words,  
hacking at reasons to try with the grit of understatement.  
And then 1 thought, that’s what’s wrong.  
  Hey hey my.

An organizing force under command matures into familiar
anesthesia: Takes my place being places (an event in tropes) —

The named oceans are dated, right, left
Pouting, getting better!

Meantime, ping. We’re here for discovery via inflection of lap pools’ recurring
condensed matter.
When we come to — there will be perorations in suspension, ripped,


1st choice for a sonnet = to solve for x. Be funny and coalesce.

Dear multiple choices from eternity: Send us a message we can wolf down.
Convey a sense of urgency if/when superfluous. Then put off all force.

Americans were living longer before the pandemic. You see yourself among them and then you won’t.

Parking spaces had a word with you. Children are the future. Let them stay distracted, I'll snoop around.

Every atmosphere has pivots. Wait for the forthcoming eel and fish heads. They’re for you.
That hurt. Oh, thank you. I don't deserve you.
Literally or latterly? I wish it were that simple. The orphaned often become scene-makers or martial artists, music critics or teachers. The last stage of brain fever is nothing if not ambiguous; today you'll enjoy experimenting on air pressure around trees. Feckless and now liberal, that man with a verge leaves faint, barely perceivable marks with his ropes, pulleys, shadows — just to find himself.

Post-cogency, you still following that? What's so strong about sadness, the real overhead for what party in sleep?

I'm so attritional about what's turned you into nothing.

Psalm, make me sorry.

Nothing is unimportant. Neither the bray of birds nor their sweet afterplay.
Send for Fr Pierre.
He lives in harm’s way. “A transit of showdowns.”
After Pierre, a burst of daft tone substitutes for info.
Wait. There’s nothing left.

I lower my voice to closest saturnal parity
plucked out of my adversative brutality ..

Finalists like you quit general practice — off to your own privacy
with little or no honor left, one laughed. And yet not you, your honor...

Summer’s actuaries record having a good time as vicarious, no
moving figures. (Vicarious isn’t strong enough.)
Inner, outer merge in our honor system, no shadows,
o praise the light flow drawn in odor and hue! After you.

Mind control is a big order of alter-egos, disingenuous.
Can you place our names? A crux?
Destroy and smooth nothing.
Pantomime killing seeing
the system.
Make my mind avoid our bohemia.

Let’s knock off a masterplan for truth value, much wider scope.

For I once had an idea today was over. I forgot, man.  With less & less destruction thru divorce, we constitute the locus of self worth holding still in our co-ritual to outlast time.  Over & over.
And this is what it means to have a muse.

High sensitivity equals high urgency.

I felt something.

The hollow inside is mixed up, the survey said;

overlapping symbols’re happening way out in the ocean. 

Your ocean. Your breathlessness. My Weimaraner

tilting sideways and holding his whisky well, destroying
our bed, our bad faith and consequences.

Hands are everything.
It was past conjecture; ever since  
The atmosphere upsurges when the bosses are retired.
His eyes & yours swell with knife moves.  
Your brain stores many kinds of pleasure. & his the same.  

A genome led you to him..  
He smiles with no wisecracks about your bluffing kowtow & innocence    
— nothing to discredit &  
— no hell to pay!

...the rain keeps raising rules of thumb, bringing it all back.

Experience is impulsive, according to unrigorous physics out-evolving pretexts for concealment with no plausibility in the future of the past.   

No such work experience for a pay grade gaining access only to weather bombs in a manifold vacuum. I Finite instrctions      

Would be taking you on and over and winning without willing to keep or junk your composition.      

Final orders are that vicarious. I thought no way, no ultimatums to rephrase, no immoral aspirations — nothing but work slathered with work!

My counselor affidavit registers our deficiency of alibis. All the same, hunches count. (I’ve always been competing with another self.)  
 
Surely alter egos bear no responsibility for foundering within the social anomaly of treason.  
Rules commit us. Voters chose Trump. Yet this is the last cause.  Everything I note here is integrated by law. Remember those days?

Today, my beliefs go unchecked worshiping neutrality (plain v harder) w/in the present gloom of purgatorio as good possibilities blow town, including the best halo effects, feelings. They’ll come back like sight for the blind in the dark. 

It’s agreeable finally to shake physics’ geomantic hand covering our breathing. Geo-theories are of a blind nature as well as hypotheses. Today, every day open censorship is tangential to being here, right over here, filtered, unfiltered but as long as it takes.

I work here but not much any more. 
Cascading circumstances. 
My travel limits are pointing to a chimera with no destination. 
Striking bells, lightening round..  
 
Take a test. Brightness gushes out, but colliding transmissions are roughened by the scream. Ballet is euphoric, turbulent-urges and compromises. But do you understand the point of my test?  
 
It’s anonymous either way.   
 
Tho before the diagramming mist rolled in I felt your grace,  
holding on all around two hands.

Bathing in wishful enjambement, naked duty —
and ‘worth the trouble’ — called out in a tremblor voice to children who blur the terrain,
a patterned enclosure: our caller, composer, shouts,

Let’s search for reason in nature’s chaos…
No one belts out a coda like this, pulsating — it’s wonderful.

A rationalized miracle.

Pollen eclipses stain both moon and sun with borrowed-spores.
Again, I don’t know much re: pollen, rising to block sky views
while I’m playing with borrowed-writing.
Any contention is biting now but my spores speed ahead 85 to 100;
that’s slow facing a chilly gust. I won’t do much more, not even for
track officials powered with centrifugal disclosure, tweeted from their past.
So forget

Any legal plaudits, forget public jubilee — I should add my power
gamut goes faster. My pollen instrument serves haves and
abandons have-nots holding guitars spinning all ways in gelid, hilly winds.

I weigh your music.
Bang you’re dead:

Average self-guilt along with bland lucky
tones, a problem. No gist, a tone too popular.
So relax thine form here,
Berlioz.

Everything dark-accented inflates 3
dimensions into an immense drizzle of forms A.

The formless, unequal in luck float already.
I hope you’re at peace.

I may have torn thru your text (torn only thru my mind — you
backstroke and float around in my semen).
O ouch. I’m not sorry.
This is my first try in four dimensions. How’s the missus?

There were more debris balls thrown so we ordered an atemporal zone of grace — w/ the emancipatory norm of curiosity —

Set it to limitless, w/ its winners & losers, a humanist quiz.

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

Let’s not. I defy you.  
 
Empiricists map people for amoral purposes, we know.. backing it up w/ inexactitude ’n caprice.   
I will follow conventional physics.   
 
I’ll focus on pure benefits that accrue in the future. Newer inconsistencies never grasp for governance of the governed! Wouldn’t you know older ones show up in an infinite series for each day’s standardized essay test. (Or from another angle they are the series, livin’ history over, as we have heard.) As you were.    

(The Chief of Staff thus pled.   
Suspiciously correct.)

Greyhound hurling on seesaw feels relaxed, as
Any footage balances when pushed, so it’s more entertaining,
Not serene. A maelstrom lights up the foreground,
no questions asked. 

Pit Bull sits tangled in tree w/leash & kites. 
Corgi spinning in washing machine, a hairy fox. One may see this more clearly, is it a pigeon?
It’s a true albino!
Incandescent, I was thinking. It’s hard to pick up detailed ornithology,
The same with determinate meanings of most genres of jazz —
Also, choosing an end table for instincts and learning given the scarcity
Of well furnished thought. Then there is rapprochement

As I’m happiest procrastinating when a hole in my cohesion is closed.

Turn here. There’s efficacy in speaking clearly, gesturing, submitting
To the coming onset of one’s own making.

This is my 1st stab at tantrics,  
boiling sanguine, sad going through a pinafore of latitudes, so   
I vet them. 
Perfect, we don’t see we’re getting our drawings from other repros   
and no matter.  
 
All we’ll have to do ... 
Choose love as a buy or rental option, both equidistant from love’s defunct model of phenomena (that travail and make surprise visits w/in quanta. Too early to tell.)

Choosing love creates an entire platform to spin off slower tangential constructs plucked out of big pharma. And of course tantrics.

Getting on with creative hustle, stealth
Forces in bent silhouette disappear on Diane
Street, filling in with mind-assistants, theorists of a visual culture
Wholly populated with sulkers. XXX multi-blends.

Major mist killed most of them off before we could get a look — its operation
Never meant more than feel-good-ok applied to drug events. Amended
One-line phobias scrawled with shock talk. Alpha-One
Cement Beginner Course. Heifers of Suffering. Toy Budding. On

One hand we gave drugs up because of high fealty to fitness regimens
And wedging taxes; on the other, because it got too crowded. Then
Very warm. Am I allowed to go on? Quacks toiled for meme growths
Bringing breathing back up from the deep -- smiling for their health.

Forever all night. 
Look around, what’s background?   
Barely perceptible lightning over fog. 
Homology then prudence. Peck v immolation. 
No questions asked, we work the lower jaw 
for the same carbons to put this together as refuge.     
 
Meanwhile nothing else 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.

Your bromide is familiar. You’re gaining attention for the wrong infinite reasons, Jungfrau.
Stay where you are. Exploit the familiar, even an inkling. Glow lost, fast.

The cosmos is unwilling to plow far ahead, now or later, this way or that — what we inhabit is neither a stoner planet nor merely some plywood-dream-and-particulates object flown in time (w/ fewer and fewer true intrigues).

There’s much history.

Shadow sensory awareness, a chosen medium.

Flowers are em-poisoned by design, grateful astrochemists oozin’ adrenaline

for their audience, saboteurs of the heart.

My optimum thesis is not close to the middle or either end,  
Leaving me in further states of redefinition. 
 
This introduces the cult of the squish factor. (My  
Luggage did this to me.)