Talk while you paint.

Look, a flying now. A case of voice 

Over matte finish.
As you advance thru security 

This line is busy. What’s the problem?
What’s going on? Hose us off

— they know — because motion

In heat 

Protects them — they won.

Likewise, I nabbed one

More, I could sit on them

While they wobble all day. 

Do I have the name right?
Prose gets along in a poem. It has a work permit. That’s why
The place has been wiped clean of unforced errors.

A poem essay invests in spontaneity gleaned from what icons blur;
Bourgeois think war unjust when there’s no one to lose it. Hoy

Until now there were no bourgeois poet essayists.
Yet, we could rubber any room —
My advice for exploring ideas, stick to the sentence.
To go along continue needing riches.
Thanks for writing.
I’ve been put on a 20-year panel of sun. Once again.
Family ghosts, male and female, roam outside with the panicked surrounding our dark thoughts. (All of them.)
It’s like a dance to respect what you guys were doing — our surprised look while you were working on it.

There’s hustle to market, along with rips in the drawers of space/time whose pulls burgeon on ennobling, blobby warmth, piping up like Boulez,
accompanied by addictions to risk among filmy shapes in vertical bands, except you...
With continued use
A lot of faces head off the wave.
I'm ending both.


Never disagree
with inferiors. Superiors. Never.
Never point to silent contentment,
its branches lifting suspended glare
defining an invisible rotating column.
Sitting down delivers good news, stateliness already had its faint say. Now you can text and drive overtime, behold zeta functions befalling hedgerows like a new highway divider along an infinite axis.
Trix or Trixie is the name. In a compulsive battle over dejected smiley faces, it’s not just who guffaws fast, but who takes off with alarming ideas about lexicon.
How can Trix (better) hear the extreme difficulty in separating external compulsion from the experience of desire..

..through the door on top of sematics?

Trixie, again, leaves for finishing school. She’s wearing khakis and a red T-shirt and my new backpack stuffed with graphs. She wants more than a group-regulated ethos for the manufacture of comedy and verse. Like you who said

The archives are at risk.
“With the past falling..” That’s good, because I sneaked across those gimme-erotic catalysts. (I don’t remember whose or how.) 

I’ll subsist in attrition finding and picking up purviews “encircling travel” — a shore in maneuvers pitched way up like mores with infectious provisos, integers-to-be and no buzz to kill. 
A buzz beats my eyes open when I (am or) was looking ragged but in a studied, not irresponsible way, reading and taking dictation to wrap up sleep.
Captain your thoughts
then opt for a safety
school. Push shyness aside,
spiff up & sign all smog-
sniffing affirmations.
Regulate an embrace multi-nationally.
Es geshah am helichten Tag —

Never feel sorry for the diva
who has brains and eats
— never forward your resume or IQ to a date.


The terms are, go settle down through the evening and finish your agenda
At gunpoint. Please, even heartthrobs will be covered by shrouds that fray
And unspool to tease advantage from the plan. Imprisoning refinement.
If you’re not there, anything Apollonian looks flab prone.
O yup, a broad context refuses to arbitrate glamour, okay... we’re done
.. On my behalf Apollo can break laws to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
either way is fractional in the bigger context / e.r.
Freedom is impersonal. With more solid throwdowns of perfection up the hall,
binary fission about meaning what is not said
or saying what is not meant.
Radon d’Etre

Cold drafts are escapement and spray
forming part brightness with a pulse,
part average improvisatory dare.
Diluent? Sleepy days of assented-to hours loosen us
from these biodata — discharged to interiors,
into sussed, sonic focus.
is my safe house until I can’t stop
fixing the straps I tore
for you.
2. Bad news, I was
struck by the French property owner. You know,
plagiarism in quotes.
It’s cold indirection
but my metabolism really took off, along with emotions from a huge manuscript
I’m freezing

for the ‘end quote.’
Watching text spin like sentience
refined by distance, since
it’s both or none of the above, this could be for you now.
1. I use bigger words than you,
The spring flowers, the moon in autumn —
Classification by evolutionary collisions.
I think I prefer staying all-purpose, best calm, never resolved.


Bandits 1st.

You translators are a close 2nd.

That leaves ‘just the 2 of us.’ We appear ordinary. This is about something else.

Then I repeat if I were you I’m all I should have —
Provincetown: Trained staff encourage sampling as Lt Benji takes fingerprints, once a full-time hobby for Meister beach boy put in charge after age 30.

No incriminating evidence yet (or ever). The night is young.
What can be done to language? Never again?

Boredom is poor experiment, our supervisor said. And that’s what we wrote down to snap out of it — lightness, joy, eyes-open dream. And 3rd cousin to dream. Knower and known are clean osmosis in reverse! It’s clearer every day we’re way behind the suitably flared frontier.

Time I guess to air-lift eagerness and cover it. I’ve been a floater of cynicism in relation to any concept I sever. (It’s hard for me to take credit.) “It’s always about dying,”
Btw, “never death.” A living cousin to death, as to ‘never,’ I never never. I consider myself a neurolinguistic product manager. Once removed.
Celebrity stalkers.

We invented Hubble.
What we thought we knew
we enjoyed making dumb-
great from the top
terminating in masked handlers.

Following orders we reflect their mistaken identity,
immune to sudden desire with intimacy.
What have we got to lose?
Language + materials referred to, dimensions variable. Dimensions variable. That’s the ceci n’est pas une pipe part. I’m one of those hoarders of history, picking out, piling stuff in the garage
(of accessible language), keeping barbed wire and Ted Greenwald materials reconciled like chairs.
I’m fifteen. We can do the roundtable math rather well, yet not entirely. Free-range sunlight in the clerestory of our lair... where elements of bloodthirsty aplomb are excessively off-key. Safety in timing carefully disguised as bright to furious, knowing the advantages waiting a beat.


Ode to the dead (maybe not yet).
A beautiful sentence:
Everyone’s in place. One’s place.
Food also knows where it belongs.

The stage brightens.
Is it sub-luminous un-inhibiting our endowment?

Knowing the ropes to scale now
clearing the theatre of lame comforts,

Stern, all the food pecked over, even down
to our place, last place, last row.
Frequently there’s a bitch
for whom you kiss that person.

She’s the bird notes
with a contract to bore within

— loyal as her lookout torn from a doorway
in a sparse analysis of unified travel.
don’t pick on anyone else..
Top of the moment — I saw your approaching motion
my once satellite du monde in demi vacuum.
Now you’re smiling, shhhhh more observant, with a more observant love.
Still flush — yes, feels.. not useless.
It feels like impossible.

Likely, shhhhh becomes welcoming
hands that boss

maneuvers. Explanation intact.
Your movements go by a few names, still coordinated but hidden in.. hardly underwear.

Not dreadful but low, classic, easy, unforgettable elements surrounding a presence (for now) then taking off your panties —

For nudity, it’s always a swing dance in practice, a new side of narrowing expense and becoming hollow thru the center, handing over your bills and coins.

A lot of Dutch people go Dutch.
Marxist-self irony:
I’m a neo-accepter of making and being particles of subjective misnomers. 
Eating and breathing them too.



My old neighbor created L’il Abner out of vitriol and bolus of sardonic revenge after WWII, exorcised as Ozark distantiation. Jester tricked to death.

Now, it’s the end of aging; cartooning is flat out hot. Order within chaos. Be one with it.
I have an eye on jesters while I’m holding to their path, rescuing no one.
It’s July, August..
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 thru summer. She struggles in cold rooms for little compensation and goes beyond the joy of subverting the arbiters of something. Something something.
Have we no will, no interest to shed our platform ambiguity?
Rainy Sundays or any day we break for the Olympics observed or imagined on the ceiling: Rationed atheism has long been the main event. Sectarian payments find a balance of situation (organ music), steam and rush-formatted white ‘sky’ disappearing like totals in multiplicities (music for copulation). Late afternoon to others.
Ethical epitomes go against the grain. Maybe a grain.
What are faux resonators for but to attempt command of natural selection and all bloodlines.
Um.. there’s nothing but an eye blush of heat that measures desperate ‘orders’ you understand in reckless hands —
Don’t forget silent partners ripening in the future, un-despairing, effect usage summaries...

Brilliant. Breathing life, we have hundreds of these, o Swami, nothing to discredit and
...no hell to pay!
Live longer.
The archives are at risk.


Insert the bonus and exchange — what do you know! —
Your tongue is radiant, clean up to my neck,

a phenomenal fact and factoid that can end in a draw sustained by
getting up, stretching for an hour.
Factor in a plug-in for artisan strength calisthenics.

Corporal resonance turns into a prism on top of which you can finger-point to the horizon, magnified and askew. So note what happens.
Better to get a friend or two to write for you, pretending they are you, falling mute, covering your lips with my gloved thumb.
Angst roughens up indulgence.
You knew the side effects —
We’re 1/2-way there. That’s when the aliens evanesce.
Their loneliness and excruciating pain
smothered during rifle practice.. swimming in a freezing
basin, weeping .. piling on debt ..
I’ll tell you what awaits the weary in The Bible. Locusts.
Varsity crew:

In zendo lighting eyes drift as if

undressing underwater. I see why snails

build a house. They stand around and tank,
coltish to the end. Jacobeans.
A disheartening skull pile supposes its completion. Angels speak up, tho, in dialog enhancer mode.
We get to a point where we have to stop, adjusting to marsh purviews returned as shrine –y meadow.

I give up missing your skin.


What is curious style?
Taken whole:
“Give in, dig it.”
Blimey. (There’s a new policy to block deletions.)
I’m sipping Tropicana on curiosity’s behalf,
Taken your lead. Word processing in sheer Palatino
All the time, staggering prose!
Tomorrow I’ll
Tap out more deletions I forgot to lose —
Nobody like me is cast to be annoying; I just fell into it. The problem, as an affect and prerequisite, engineered simplicity holds the coordinates for pouring tonic over other people’s glass tables. Internal ‘gears’ regulate due caution, rushing in nauseous effects, which are natural, to your personal advantage, and which you have to waive anyway, as though privileged opposition were some huge treasure, my sweet.
Mercury is wow! pensive, coming back, back... no..

You’re saying no to billing days first, no to virulent, callow graphemes, stance covers for a copyist. Cut the trad crocus, low opinions and bloodied mesh. No aplomb in nature, please. No chiastic haunts. And no golf property for now.

There is no personality, so why beat anyone up? We can read back over found work but never go back to walk the innocent-seeming turret and loggia built by another’s labor, overlooking our exciting first game together...

Funny place
for a dance, Mr Baker.
Landscape: Over the summer construction advances.
Uncivil also true, summer advances over the construction.
Everybody goes!
... inevitably constructivist and supremacist impulses are joined.
Who or what is as reserved and specific as the moist film on a blade of grass to assess the new autumn?
Yah but a friendly warning for the mind,

Film ‘work-arounds’ bully sarcasm to un-wit a way and means to spiraling logically.
Please, not now, Santa...


A private-public distinction
no longer limits outcomes for a buffered work force.

Besides giving empathy
I write on my agenda,

A vapidly growing thing
once I launch it —

I got married without knowing the side effects
— wait, I forgot why I called.
Can’t say what happened that day but I know we slept because there was a whole mattress to lie on.

The mime sequence where I speak out was spoofy. More, there was a moderator from a board of modulation. I carry cash and deal with the cops but I’m no killer. Lack instinct. Sri.

Many of what we call instincts interact with musty dynamics eventually. More than musty, foul as in apres-euphoria.
A tone-deaf dancing lawman gets more attention now so

I keep hammering a poem is a cat meow ten times more.
Opposition — that other guy with Verlaine,
2 birdbrains, explicit about nothing or nothing much; yes/ja / no/nein?

Ok, they were willful but we stayed in control — a thousand bees were stinging our feet —
Wanting as well as having nothing — shhhhhh.. I cant
.. I shouldnt ask, losing you, did I live like that fly on the wall?
— since you demolished the text, I handed it in; dont expect extra credit after all.
I’m going to avoid your rut and stick with my own.
Nonviolence resolutions have been approved. Staring into the candle you can think,
meaning on. This temple is the place for no definitions.
No meanings for speech but new meanings, good as gossip to evade a “mixed speaking strategy” to
partner with whom, exactly? O realization in a flash..

I have a steady girl now. I have rage stamped inside. I have it
everywhere within

a burning zone.

Only years later rather I took a word bath, which isn’t often.
The air is sawed off, doing better. We were dangerous, once. 
Smooth rhetoric is purely transparent. It’s too late to make it sparse.  Even our restraint is wishy for its own sake.


We could see from a distance, your rakish note to yourself, my mixed medium ..

As I understand it the exact second you insert the first-person, a sand rampart like a moral freedom can and will drill five feet down and under the ground, a strafed, natural spectacle falling into coherence, something you never saw and you never will, you gestalt freak.
Here comes Mr Jones
In life, he and they would understand.

True and lost — complex, gangly, mostly mute yet histrionic, anticruel
-ish. They apologize for the inconvenience of curricular adjustments.
Tons of special forces in silhouette .. polished from water .. on day one we’ll ..
Correct everything near the top filling in with capacitance-assistants, eventually
Theorists of a visual world culture (camaraderie) wholly populated by posturing.
I’d like to thank the Academy.

Goliath, Duchamps, Sinatra!

IT warned me of overrefined emblems and their sweeping reproach. I’m not religious. Not by a long shot, snow in September? I took note of what you like from the beginning and became pope. Your pope. I had a few ideas in mind. I put on my pants and left.

Oh, tech services... tell us a little more about your miserable ontology affecting checks, balances, and mantra logjams —

How did worldviews crumble into environmentality to pantomime the inference undercutting American literacy?
Matins in 4 scary minutes:

Capitalism never hesitates beating then shooting the innocent into space but each victim goes broke, sighing take me, kill freely and find me a Guy Laroche. O outer knee —

This is done all over doing it over —
Never doubt..ew..there’s enterprise in victimhood, each higher up will argue. There’s one problem. Only cash in small bills in exchange for a free ride, we mean it, tho, let’s discourse, subject to chance ..
A Deux Magots adaptation:
Robots embrace the free market, it was announced in a penetrating tone,

a pale mist of drifting nothing. Blameless, nonetheless free of anguish for the moment.
The masters picked that up from them.. ..wolves running through snow melting into wolves..