We’ve been there waiting for a rush
Above and beyond don’t even have, the ready time
our mouths slew dates hammered on crackers
and gouda, and no sooner had we primped
we looked dopey in bed —

My friend is smoking, “I’m
hooked on classics,” he was saying turning
this way and slowly when we sat down
before a mirror, “I’m crazy
about our necks brought up to today.”


The vision comes spontaneously

— never forward your resume
or IQ to a date.

Captain the thought
then opt for a safety
school. Push shyness aside,
spiff up & sign all smog-
watching affirmations.
Regulate an embrace multi-nationally.
Es geshah am helichten Tag
Never feel sorry for the diva
who has her brains and eats
them. Never disagree
with inferiors. Never. Do
not accuse sperm donors
of throwing their rumcake out
with the bathwater —
Never point to questions
about meaning what is not said
or saying what is not meant.

The soul is a hypothesis, a sweet flying
fish out of water surfing over interstates
to destroy itself.

We begged it to go faster and keep at it,
stick with a sublime subject or object, rally
for more than shimmering in a mega-lens.

If you can wake it up, do it.


Your bromide is familiar. Let me grab a pen. You’re gaining attention for the wrong reasons, dummkopf. Stay where you are. Exploit the familiar, even an inkling. Glow fast.

The cosmos is unwilling to go far, now or later, this way or that — what we inhabit is neither a stoner planet nor merely a plywood-and-particulates object flown in time (w/ fewer and fewer afterparties). Earth turns out an enormous intimation as sexual icon, promoting death, laughter.

Those laughing are listening, assuming we’re incandescent.
Rainy Sundays or any day we break for the Mandarin Olympics observed or imagined on the ceiling: Rationed atheism has long been the main event. Secret blank ballots float free to find a math of situation (music), steam and rush-formatted white ‘sky’ disappearing like factions of multiplicities (an ear for copulation). Contextual effects (procedures) are more fearless (less indiscernible) when crossing boundaries within socialist codes of conduct. Many a performance opens doors, colors of bone, an addiction to be no one. Late afternoon to another.


Our crash test is of course.. You.. and I’re / are habits of empire living on proceeds, motion futures of one of each you,
each of you.


The buzz is those who knew rued physical property.
It’s feasible if you say

** I believe
There’s a way we recover from this and most happiness / as litigants in the field henceforth —

The sports-arts-logic field once there was a C-class
and we stay on board ..

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

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

Yeh, sure, take me on your own.
We have polling data. “There’s no intro. Descriptors peel away.

In each house a different name is earned; the old monograph goes on.

Take an idea, anything that interests you or them, spend a few days noticing,

protecting it, perhaps, without outreach, no descending into light quotations.

Then from the moment you video, you set the stage ‘parameters’ — we’re squinting within staged representation,

getting some Miles in, taking them on board, putting them in mind, say,

of a future photo realism. Much untold on all sides.”


We ride defensive, pointilized elevators to brighten down narcissism. We crazy bastards.

Astrologers from a famous university have nothing to give back. The known entity we reference as outer space is erratically arced with self-erased trapezoids and dull oblongs like my briefcase covered in olfactory sketches: Cosmos unexplained, parts one and two, fingers crossed.

Given my double indemnity, your unfulfilled categories stand tiptoe atop broken mosaics, hearts pounding from overtime. Fast above the lush, appointed blur. Keeping my hand warm.


What can be done to language? Again?

Boredom is poor experiment, our supervisor says; and that’s what we wrote down to snap out of it — lightness, joy, eyes-open dream. Knower and known are clean osmosis in reverse! It’s clearer every day we’re way behind the unoriginal frontier.

Time I guess to air-lift over our eagerness. I’ve been a floater of cynicism in relation to any concept I adopt. (It’s hard for me to take credit.)
I consider myself a neurolinguistic product manager, btw. Once removed.


De rigueur for now is farfetched. / Let’s consider what might outrank expecting your return. / Stanford. Harvard.
Same-sex hobos sleeping on railroad tracks
/ Dialogs sound libertine laced w/ Frankfurt School brio and science fiction.

Your life is the intervals it contains minus your free channels — / which is a way of drawing.
Are they tears or fears? They are mediocre — after Joe Elliot’s “This Is How It Happens”

I notice your underwear, a denomination marked w/ jealousy. They pill.

Yeah, that’s funny.

Take one of mine.


Add you’re welcome. What used to smoke like axioms will come back as an erotic variety of lurches, of nibbling torque measured in dotted lines missing your skin. Have we no interest nor will to shed our platform ambiguity?


Your body double is detected blocks away; a new torso

Awakes in poured concrete, and decently you pull away, feeling 

Look, his is a case of the responder’s voice

Over matte finish

The concrete is drying to.
They know you’re divided because senses motion

As his character advances through security,

His shadow is missing — very needy.


It’s July.

And this is what it means to have a muse.

A poet will work in a freezing apartment that is far more than a place for thoughts to gather. She struggles in cold rooms for little compensation beyond the joy of subverting the arbiters of something. Something something.

for Justin


Fuck situationists. We can’t say new and improved until we follow Justin slipping on Snoopy’s personal hygiene stratagem.

We don’t think about it, because we’re not the ones who situated his zeitgeist. One secretly wants fact checking.

There’s a couple, dabblers in Justin’s fame, in an adjacent field. Let’s scratch and test them. Slim and teeming with desire between parens — this one welcomes the intrusion.
To hell with middle distance or stringent circles in seminars, forced movements, to hell with coercion, curfews, all lethal pressure. Tho the situation is this.

Lantern jaw. Not a jaw, but a chin that extends fuzzy as a lantern to the flab of the neckline. Right. A weak chin. No jaw. A double chin. No character, a dark, cerebral dog.


Treatment: I polished the text. Handed it in? I

We chose photomurals for the candidate’s political subject matter, like this halftone of a garland arch running along the gag foreground filling with panicked folk. We coaxed them to cross over to catch the show before the last buses. 

Up, tremendous in fact, then down, 
two detainees listened to a substitute, a thinly veiled copy of an audience member, more than one! The visual glow of happenstance, quirks and turns like a block party, informatics about celebrity homesickness — no wonder people lost their jobs; it becomes less friendly midway with proliferating mordancy infiltrating foreground shifts from one folk cell to another, back and forth. 

To keep up the audience don’t find a compromise. But vote often.