9/24/17

I can’t make it. We’re staying in.
We can’t always gather but this way but we do.
New wilderness tracing a wistful landscape, hum-vacuumed, cuddling escalations in body movement, ledgers of age. The lucky live on, fudging abasement in clean confinement serving a purpose within supernumerary states of being (confined).
Gastronomy is to breaking the ice as ‘fucking / sponginess’ is to bacchanals.

9/23/17

$ transfer: I’m sleep.
An only hill / a huge stage
I’ve been searching
Awake most nights, debates that decay:
A clean face in the morning − caped
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light, the best.

When I perceive dogs and woods in salt air
Together, like them and like us.
Can you dig stillness? Can you keep an eye out, the ocean over.
Beside Panker observation tower, from which one can see in good weather the far over Baltic to Danemark, the Forestry House Hessen Stone lies.
In former times foresters got their Ausbesserungen with its sailors for a Senkrecht. From that foresters with sailors on Hessen Stone glow.

Today one can eat excellently and jazz friends here come also.
You & I wonder about one summer’s eternal
possessions, the buds, shade & a day
staying chaste .. it’s on the house. 
Feels great out ahead until there’s a threshold. 

In those same terms there’s too hot
a reliance on making out 
Optimizing the center where death dies.
It will take more than a single changing course
to snatch life from time, breathing if we could see. 
Each year corrupts the ultra-field. The elders have rules. Stay funny and
comfortable is one.
Another is also fancy, more or less fun. Insert / handkerchief.
Shave twice a week. Does your dad look happy never to see you in the eyes of men?

What can we do without sleeping around in our active subculture?

Last, best, fair in gay love. I wanted to ask you about immaculate being, rondure and going out. / According to slung
Allegory, it’s called Stepping Up, Giving Ourselves, Keeping Ourselves.
Not to arouse undue hearsay, your wellbeing was my concern. It isn’t safe yet. I won’t forget. 
And that does it for this rehearsal. Proud exclamations to postpone further videotaping, advancing a counternarrative for marchers stepping slowly waving gold torches in flames, pressing the crowd into feeling nervous in observed time, expanding behind the capitol. Many observers. 
I was going to say metabolically we’re all for one in suspension
of disbelief, a flipping out scene like martial arts, sparkling pen-


umbrae, a pro ring barnstorming on top
dicing / re-arranging pushed to extremes,
undanceable “fetishisizations” — yet we’re dancing.

9/22/17

I’m a little I guess confused 

I thought you might understand I mean  
I’m surprised, do you know  

what I’m saying? I guess so  

not exactly. 
In descending order of indefensibility...



(a) Poetics is democracy.
Evasion in poetics, as in prose, foregrounds style, motive, subjects for close attention.

(b) Friendship is a job (like writing) and, more elevated, craft (signing). To illustrate, job is to craft as field praxis to theory that’s kicking a signing agency when the signer is down. Don’t get me wrong I think free speech is nominal. I’m for it and against impingement unless it hurts a friend (that’s down). What’s it? There’s no workaround to the observer influencing the observed except later, so much later.
108: Admit you miss smoking gold.

You miss the first drag.

Have you read, teens get ten percent of their daily

Calories from soda & smoking. That’s how


They become bilingual.
Now. What’s new to speak..
The smoke takes you & him in stride
Among the underemployed in hyper décor —

Your glass is half full. You hair’s on the brink.
Your eyes fill with manpower.

Counting no old thing old,
Stay informal in no time. Yuy...

What now to register?
Stop waving that grape drink.
I write for money and music. Money 1st. It’s in the blood. 

What’s wrong with a billion for two  

circulating in a branch of Chase Manhattan 

with no memory how it got there?
Didn’t they tell you

thinner tones and soft muscularity are proof

— our brains are being stolen; after

we wander back home muttering “TV,

TV,” a mildly eccentric suburbia

waiting for a payday of awe-inspiring relaxation.
Talk? You hoped we might &?

9/21/17

To chide your beauty has to be done but it’s one-sided. 
It seemed artificially important  
The screech was spherical.  
A seagull.  
No one’s there.  
 
I missed it.
It’s a slide knot. Or kind of knot. 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, swamp entropy. For a quiet start, take down zero gravity bans. But you don’t keep any larvae. They’re apart. Their cloying song goes out kind of mutely and you feel a need to ache in their baby blue blather, calmly, accruing intimacy. Hey —

Never stop exploring.

*
Kind of show us your travel documents!
90: Hate me now.
It’s up to pond structure to model passivity discharged by shore conditions. Only don’t drop in.

The pond holds scraps and parts of nesting authority, an after-loss. Rainy tomorrow. I join you to re-reference an arrow and bow made out of many purposed m.p.h. gusts — and this is my body as well — a priori nil in inner life razing names of sorrow.
This is not a test. It’s the blues. But who can tell if it goes well.
We’ll leave it at that.
The place was beautifully democratized with process.

Yet our processes blow decorum of law...
Also, it’s easy for you, suddenly, brief minutes, to have less to eat to soften your last interruption using little consonants in your throat.. oft predicted, you’re holding firm. How many blue songs of parallel scenery can democrats take?
By the way, every right wing worm thinks / every owner of a worm is subject to restitution
even as most tax experts evoke cuddliness w/ breeder values clad in brute colors.. I’m here too, waiting for everyone I can’t stop waiting for.

I live in a container house near the city

and wait on nothing at all, only sustained focus and innovation in nowhere equivalent to a disc. I won’t do it, nah, many thanks.
I work in text and garden, that do? .. I’ll grieve later on, turn to pen and ink for human voice breaking glass in an r v to drown out the dog track.

Nah.
Style is a digestive structure in zoology. 

9/20/17

We were wondering about invention of the planets, empathizing
With a numbers guru also the director — one of them. Yours and mine.
Often that’s a normal baritone and determinative section to sing.
Not foes, no spite
Sing: Pigeons pattern heaven where detachment cut back! Getting
To there uproots the light series, exalted then stiffened into parody..

Reminding my love of a few contingencies we picked up from a tray
Of bright boomerangs that tantalize in the feasible, wanting nothing and showing
What go around and come around, left to their own desires and systems.
I stand for doing this.
87: I’m sure I don’t deserve a king in sleep
but he rusts himself in, damnation de Faust!

He got in surrendering his fingerprints
humming to make a windfall. We’ll


welcome anyone else holding more riches, more determinate judgment

w/in one’s center, letting misprision slide away.

*

Farewell, I’m lying. Part of what I do here. Throw up my hands! No matter..

Everywhere there’s fog in sky swerving off force fields I dislike, nowhere better!
No ripped off melancholy, no lecture / rap / blues, it’s taken none.

*

In not struggling with comparative vulnerability to vie for solitude,
I pursued insight by your ‘grant’; for how do I hold you? That’s one for liberal arts.
Secure oases cannot be considered in terms other than liberal;
with great laughter impelling knowing, not knowing, comfortable indeterminacy.

A given. Someday.
José or colder rain has a libido viewable within either construction
From a cabin for paired centrists, a flight down,

A perimeter of memory foam and asphalt when metamorphoses are active.
In plain verse we round this off in latinate stencils for amnesia’s fixed width.
Spirals discharge. You were great, shaken tame.
He called the youth a positive word.

Reading and living
Ontologically under-simulates his senses.
He should be furious w/ the world w/ dogfood boxes, be
Angry at keyholes, too, w/ their conservative
Counterviews to earnest alignment as his sure timing slips
Under the prowess of floating unquietly
Into apothegms, into sidesteps of fine voice,
“A voice and nothing more.”
Mr Peanut twisted once again to look up. I hadn’t expected it. On the other hand, what choice did he have?

9/19/17

We just saw (a few feet minutes from now, however)
your address changed. We could have done it differently before
you discovered the user charts; the parent company was yours before you took over.

You’re not going to be delirious are you?
Just for a stretch of language... good for you
taking me from sleep where I rewrite chain letters you refuse to answer...

Good for you!
A trivalent bond forms at birth, delays our death.

There are two ambient music cartels as well: Doggone moosebirds and dwarfs striking poses with all their operatic powers. De rigueur for now is writing over known injury to outrank others in the trivalence of thieves. I won’t do your religion, good day.
Just piano and voice. Sunken gardens with a fountain of moods for each of Four Graves.
I wish you had taken that job singing of thingness.  
Even so, if you could eat onlyone food for life, what would it be? “Take notes,” you called out. You were holding back first throbs as you forced his from the inside.   
 
I miss the walled city where an operator like him looks up when you arrive at this next step. . 
 
Try to remain calm. I’m going to talk you down. 
We’ll take the stairs; the elevators refuse to go with operators in them.  
(Ok, you there? Bye.) 
Song: Blushing is breaking news.
One time I was inconsonant. Or..

I was found holding a grand lodge of doing-splits glossary.
— why

Does a face arrest?
You had on your fabulous eyeliner from a while ago. Cunning
Thing is everybody had it goes without saying a probability before
The news

And all of us now are blown up by
Getting wind of the Red Wings.
I’m lost? I’m not familiar
with the neighborhood?

You’ve got a nice view of it
from up here.

Here we go. I got you.

Here we are.

I got you, I got you.

Got my back?
I got you. It’s okay.

You sure that’s why you’re here?
Oh My God, I so adore you. I thought I was alone in my hatred.
Task me, praise me about something else that’s forced..
Stop hurling new foodstuffs, sour leisure.

9/18/17

There is no name then it’s absence and torment. His life is built around sane choices w/ a sense of a person, even though in a few seconds, I’m in memory * of that person to come. Haw. 
 
That a fact?  
Some don’t hear clearly when one’s “voice” joins others’ to deepen ultimately anonymous expressions of desire. * The memory part is mostly vice versa.
Been holding our tongues. That’s how it works. 

Non-interference in charge, under which an authentic kindergarten, bourgeois language, genetic dance and charades get raised and quest is forcibly asserted. Working against deadline shaped the last phase of withdrawal from our deadlock with future attributes. Oedipus meantime, our founder, targeted a fan like me because of ageless obligations to familial platitude, his camouflage in plain view, the better part of stiff winds over centuries-old middle ground.
A mind is a beautiful tool of late capitalism (the unwitting effect and cause).



Capitalism stands erect, at the American curbside, a whiff of more aroma
waiting, eyes unblinking.
( Or one could seek documentation, semblance, something Swiss..

 From now on the mind is Switzerland, ok? Two eyes
belong everywhere, you’re breathing into everywhere. )

Capitalism thus gets to open up its dude ranch, akin to rustic factories, the gig economy spreads further west to prey on the drunk and disorderly. This is the highway the slug runs out on, leaving us a little dizzy. You’re the 10th dude / muse..


I was wondering wha ...

The mind sits there. It wants to be best
friends. It’s saved us burgers.
While in the garden, the door banged shut.
Execution never gets cold.
The sky is in the air, a hue of golf balls. 
That color was discontinued, for historical justice.  
Days are broken into seasons separated by regions. 
Our supply chain deals fatalism as an element of allegory  
shaping and twisting regions of all desire, except a ready  
-made means to change the supplier that feeds us these days. 
Too excellent but passing concern:
IF we have an idea to process a text or artifact, subject to analysis, THEN how does the text or artifact change ways of analyzing the process? Does the result generate inquiry into both (a) who, how, when, why subjects of analysis came about and (b) any utility of further application or adaptation?

9/17/17

Massachusetts, one of the 13! Now tv.
I love needing what television does, colonizing until the wheels fall off. 
Nearly sunset in coconut milk. Skinny ‘eventude’ brings on video waves of fluttering, populist rage, dishonest dogs. (Tv dogs trained to come, fetch, force it down.) All in favor held under pressure.  
 
Channel surfing here in the cranberry state I see immigrants mix well w/ bohos, capitalist people, people people, subjectivity with certain rights for a life entrenched w/ exigency — it feels very large here. We’re all over tv. Just noticed.
Craning one’s mien goes on outside e.r.’s, the event passes — comments from nondoctors, random tvs, lies — freedoms in this vein takes off at many a critical point. It’s personal, e.r. managers point out. It’s conditions like these making it almost impossible to write enflamed birdsong and comb back your hair at the same time.. Can you do that? 

Light with a spooky edge 

To sound off like your own critic.
76: In flight, the framework is told on telling. 
How can varsity spend their tribute, spent? Why? 
 
This café, I think, is going to answer that & help the weather from getting lost.  
I know the frame craves attention, that’s why I write of you.  
Why I finish a stretch and lines get confused, showing their birth. Fuse the way  
they  
 
Continue. My argument.
87: Sodajerks. Their stock was luminous. Possessing

That noun phrase furthered ambition (we’re sure it was theirs), amusing
vim shaken from the inside. Each had a skeleton curse; growing
versed. (Youth, after all, is the determined object of love.) An emotional matter
language models for 3 dimensional farewells in waking
then not knowing.
Nothing is such in all cases. This brings on what works mostly. Life is short and good grooming drives you all over. Recent example, no longer victims,
you and I grabbed the moment as a ladder we shouldn’t overuse —
A moment to stare out the window, a lamp over our shoulders to herald the swindle in wind farming.
Denis the Menace grew a pair this summer. I now have a boyfriend. We’re in love, we’re out of it, we’re trying to run each other over, and it continues, since I’m first and last bored with superordination and thought about having no chapter delineations, just paragraph breaks.

9/16/17

O Jesus 
A severe honey glow  
crowning his shoulders — groomed  
disgust in his walk, his mystic theater practice 
already addressing us, the radiant  
pull at his mom’s sleeve  
emptied of the given moment. Puissance of a misprision sort, holy body of Christ. Already what Esau called discourse in action.
but I have to smile
                                The emptiness that was
one fine day...
                                A uranium-brimmed scree
insubstantial, to dawn ‘disappeared’
into a leg o’mutton of oblivion :
The reunion is off.
A spotlight called.
Lots of us are gifts 
and land across our example  
while we watch the wind taken  
that the waves under you lift  
Tho see-thru as doves  
which today are nothing more,  
swept with a visual certainty  
no matter how we change in love.
Voices in funnels, a trickle down of their futurity,
Dropping your sights — now rising
— the fastest way to earn points. And yet
We’re surrounded, opening
I write poems for children, progeny
Forward, a debit resonance disproving their successors —

We’re nothing their voices bell without words.

Make a difference, make an offer.
Stealing away the steepy treasure,
Baby Wateau vanishes
& the cake sale fails — vanished out of memory & sight as I am now.

9/15/17

62: It’s up to future officials to unpack failures’ base ironies. The speaker looking into a mirror. Failures of autumn. Where are they, let’s see... I’m not picking up any .. acoustics. Where I am, they don’t hook up to
let supplies flow out since they
make love too much — painting my age w/ no explanation, only disgust because every irony wants to stay on a comfort-slope, to live well too, staying relaxed. No shape, no truth can lull you into an ex-jazz tranquility. There is no remedy for the language instinct’s sentimental counterreactions

Grounded inward in my heart, inequity’s failure up to now.
BF Skinner watches a boy develop — to spy on sleep when you can’t dream... parking spaces have a word with him. Children are the future —
keep them distracted.
And back to you. If you lock your room you can transport anywhere. Ask Caligari. Bright blues in white, a looming sluice through the discomfort zone. Here we go...

I don’t deserve friends like him or you.
Staring you in the eyes
In my illusion of minimalism
I scored my first wormhole on schedule. The entity, no,
I should say the accretion settled down
Inside us, lost and scattered trying to remember.
Sonnet 28: I lost track of our last banter. 
How can I return then? debarred, oppressed.. not eased by night. 
Enemies shake hands to torture — stronger grief. No rest. 
 
The community’s been repurposed by consent. I can tell a long river
dries because of science. The rich (not advancement) won.
Here’s how I hitchhike. I come across an organizing principle and pull a trigger or 2, replacing subject matter with source text, exploring only some musts: structure, acquisition, re-use, mixed media — no Eros in ideas, room for the best except the pure.

One who hitches has no right to speak other than excellently. Self-conflict and compromise keep coming up as rich bases for ironic pleasure and symphonic failure. If that’s allowed.

Primitive patterns and blue throats, crowbars taped to a tree, in the distance, Eroica...

We haven’t been far away — the fields are twenty, chips are foam, our clothes thrown,
The great We of fish, that’s what I say on a sea plane worked into the sky.
nearness...