New day! Matins yet ghosted, Starsky’s tongue in my ear
& all the bobwhites in Appalachia hush... off

& then — second — noise
of collared, greening hospitality where Hellenic

banter might calm a tax credit havoc.
                           Third, I stay nonprofit
worshiping everything that belongs.
All else is stress related.

Conditions look gray — wanting you (I do), profane,
not out of calculation — how far & vast connivance
liberates us to oppose purring put aside.

In a fair coin flip, you
and I are leisure-loving. Nature’s doing.
It’s that easy
and so great I’m leaving you
my saddle in your extrication from hallucinatory delirium ..

Tho you’re still standing up front, in legacy jeans, what nature calls
trafficking with fog to bequest lilac-dark in the air
along with offshore atmospheres yesterday and the day before.

Once there was a crutch like levitation, it got modulated. Modulated is like drummers and saxophonists, women coming out to play, sampling the masked hostility and indecisiveness of our environment and backing it up with inexact beats and multiplying sounds from what they were doing before the session took hold.

Sexual scaffolding hovers in the interim, instantly recognized as male identity. Identity and hardened m.o.’s then evaporated. We invented them from silences, lies and a feral sense of feeling cornered in a soulless piano practice lesson. Enough — men as well as women are resigned and re-acclimated to generations of processed shock of the simple — the safe-zone simple, where infectious pop is authenticated, highlighting some weak spots.

Wherein a smirk presses on — mass culture destroyed by life-changing sex.

That would be the solid thanks to no progress.

Sex is a sardonic comfort with a sober edge.
Time’s up. I have to guide this girl back to her tapestry, a big beldam of friend with a visual cortex attending what’s neat in the future, and she finds me attractive! At arm’s length..

There were dimensions an hour ago enabling 2 events in one plot we were both party to. Tenebrae, we said. Let’s return to the olfactory sketches, in which the cosmos is left unexplained. Constant and converted. Incandescent, then, our ardor comes back to choke human rockets like us, sidelined by a braided chord worn as her necklace, a burning space distinguished by diffuse vitality.

In text design every utterance is for sale. I’m delighted in my forties and fifties. And after, I’m intensely relaxed, everything exposed as muggy air filled with puzzling results you can pin your lapel on like tendrils.
There’s a low threshold for unlimited text space and transfers, however.
It’s better when I wake up we’ve just landed.

Volumes in the sun sound great. I started at the top, what was there? I just stood there, then a few rain forest elements incised to form solid bands connected to now-text or a-moment-from-now text. Also, it’s easy, differentiate the two, but not for long.

Something came up. And what’s not mentioned expands underground.
This is unlikely as lightning gaining on fog. Lightning understands

it’s disassociated. Has nothing to transact, no tingle or lasting appeal.

How is it falling with grey streaks that look glazed or remedial well past

the exercise and expense of

the seven seas.