All ages had been there,
down the frozen path because it’s snow-
ing, attack dogs toughing it out, snow
melted before statuary of white cats, snows
ones spot the Buddha bare in, the hedge snows
as euphemism for voids entering snow
a virulent infection of snow
A morning flew by / Only a
glob of us surrounded in snows
wrung pink by serial foam.
My best friend is my most erotic partner. It’s a corporation.
But this has nothing to do w/ that.
His music brokerage remains in aerospace
Within no sound
where there is none
other than the last
S’up? no other devices for years.
2 are no duality. Crazy cements form a plastic posture.
Farted Carbon. “Bleach.”
This is weird. A focus group from the groom’s side picked us, agreeing
w/ newer media that blow jazz, lower right, your lips moving up and down, documentation:
in the vicinity of metrics seen seeming on top (of it).
Here’s the stumper. No one can help us sign for Eurovision. (It rhymes.) Where is twilight?
Whatever the ism its urge to oppress is put down to the tulle underbelly, plus anthropology. We open our front door and see what politics didn’t do. The shortest path to noting your path is ignited by havoc, honest and exhausted people. From it’s-not-the-same-now to the science of celebration their betrayal is addictive.
And anthropology won.
I like most of their noneccentric symbolist umph.
They gave me the strength to be there, ameliorating, wild-eyed, on the curt side, one feels naked in one’s responses like others’, all the room wept glowing, tiled back and forth mistily across an immense and distant daze, half of it waxing with the plump bride adorned along mortal circumstance.
A square insult comic told me I go for the moody and unexpected.
The color of his spine high and low, unlikely yet foreseeable.
So I put his name in every ghazal. Am I fit for that? Are you and I? I ran out of balls rating you. I found what you say emancipating, even if the data are hardly unadulterated, driving me, well..
Doesn’t it transpose and inverse us when categories are givens we don’t need to work out?
I have a sentence for everything. This is a trans whatever.
Some of you is more sound-oriented while translucence flushes downward.
Your heart is impacted by his eyes, non-music-industry.
Solitude, confidences, you’ll learn times in the day, plays and the jungle of paradigms between that adds up what you say waiting, keeping your eyes busy on a Japanese course of action.
And there you go, retreating to that panoptic middle ground where they still have innuendos. You don’t have to choose the Non-Group taking part in the landed cool to outlast time, but no thanks. This is tomorrow.
A lone hill
I’ve been searching
awake all morning
I’m upset about the report
whose? with a consonant in my throat
or foot. It was a dud with a hurt.
It said “dad” and “no”
with no sound I alone saw
and have done this to me.
So many things done after years of victory over husband
whose clean face I see in the morning − caped
with sounds. Sounds caped with light, the best
dog and wood on the ocean
together, like you and us. I have done this to us.
Can you bear the stillness? Keep an eye out. The morning is over.
Repeat it until it becomes approval
spreading itself like “I don’t know about you”
like a jewel or a painter’s word for whale
like the blue while:
This set, like all good waymarks, tells a story while recording hints of a wide-mouthed affirmative, it finds self-mastery even in the spiteful − was it something to do with me? No, you see, there's a focus on only one side, blocking out the other, tho it’s instinctive to listen to both. Do you feel like leading a life the other shares with you? The question hopes you don’t turn your back on the Saluki holding pinking sheers in her mouth, uh nice Fox
Terrier in FinnAir plane w/ box cutter.
Where you die I will die, a part in the story I have no knowledge of.
Passion motifs should die, death too, no recovery to get “permission”
as The Analects 論語 will be tantamount to sex medicine,
in value, in cold bewilderment over consciousness / a risk
and vault-loads, bags and bags of humanly virtue, and
many new non-identities that bring risk-takers close to the sex kitty within.
Or live to be admired. You might like to check it out. Ask
me. We have a message board this time.
Growing to chat and leave messages, I stared at the new wing
thinking how light, how each light beam
can be rare and mysterious, a physical
crossing between Rattle and Hum. Higher Memes
| Religion | How People Talk. Where did passion tend?
Search: Wittgenstein reads False Prospects. So too The World of Normal
Boys transcending genre w/ understanding of the painter’s task.
I keep circling spiritual terms regulated by us humans. Thanks for our donation.
Big losses revive the most potential among us doctors for peace.
I’m in a super position, it seems. I’m nothing. Glasses, a pen. I ‘have no memory.’ I can’t tell if I hate what I just said. There’s an I-do to waiting to talk, finding your spoken-ness, listening to Arcade Fire impersonate refinement.
Mean of them, there’s a message. All you have
to do is ...
Choose your words as a buy or rent parallel yet defunct phenomena within quanta. Choosing ten words creates an entire platform to spin off constructs, happenstance survivors plucked out of a good number of now-dead parallels. Here’s how.
“When a word is selected” as “‘vivid detail’,” W. Empson insists, “a reader may suspect alternative reasons why...” You’d think a (any) detail had to be spinning two or more ideas resolved into one or n unconnected meanings. Yet one construct says if you choose any (a) detail with alternative but similar meanings (to clear the air of infinity), it will enter into a lucky confusion where you discover your idea in the act of thinking, an idea that possesses both a) more than one detail with n meanings as well as b) meanings that are unconnected. Per the quantum metaphor, a single spinning detail can represent separate entities and oppositions, 0 v. 1 (moderately unsweetened v. vanilla loft) simultaneously. Consider a row of ten unrelated meanings forcing you to invent interpretations containing not only one number from 1 to 1,023 (x itself), say, or just one flavor-set ranging from 1 up through the lofts (x n), but also all numbers and flavors. Once you intuit contradiction in a system, the lucky confusion collapses, and one number or flavor engages at random; the rest enter time-sensitive sleep.
I can’t see this because it’s a super mess from my position. And here. Just felt like adding.
The All-sports Beats are not individualists or individuals, much less rugged ones. But they would have to write out of control. Often within an osmotic zeit fragen to compress. I don’t think they have to invent more practices wholesale or discover things exceptionally cool. I mean cool beyond occult technology. Or do I?
The main thing is to tell a story. It is almost very important.
− − Frank O’Hara et al.
Those writers focus on writers. Focus is writing. Travel writing packs my after, better in the dark when plants get shifted.
China’s philosophers are not unique in carrying on the tradition we transmit.
This retranslation is all opinion like in resizing the electrolyte. We see they are seeing. Tell me how you will avoid what they say?
Minnie’s tat is special.
Where was I? ..breaking down of the ‘right’ color skills in late afternoon. S
may have that
it’s pulled out
He’s forgotten more than I can acquire / classify in snow to do the slather more
I don’t have the brains to have a handbag
Yet I’m taking comfort to be close to you
I will never betray metaphysics oxidizing into beauty goals
I forgot the Kennedys I forget the Dead Kennedys and video pastiche
more, more patchwork from an event that’s marked
with an open look
..wait for it
a department over the ocean
no mesh (I forget to send you this)
calculate the exact 2/3rds of issues that are not specific
no synonym on the surface
I forget impeccable accounting
I forget when I had nothing more to give