8/17/18

A warm light is produced by heated argument. 
Heat the cosmos can hear. The blazing trajectory halts in downtown or Washington on-to-nowhere, a very mean arc to bridge, all right — erratically stencilled with tweezers-length trapezoids at its austere outer rings.  
 
Taxonomy, to get back to the cosmos, stands tiptoe atop shoulders of ascending ideas, forgetting the battered raw laborers below lined up on broken mosaics, necks pounding from overtime  
 
like ex-royals.
As you had to know, I drive a Steinbeck but dream in a Camus. 
I heard my cat meow ten times and then more, ‘license and registration ..’ 

8/16/18

Social progress is depressed, a big abnormal mess, a product of one’s time. It wins all the half-eaten take-out left on the table. 40% made of obdurate hardly-ever voters like you and me. And how long can one live folding up conversation, conjecture perpetually minimalist verging on filth and circumstance? Who isn’t one?
I see your inside voice, binary to binary autosuggestion. 
When it gets dark it happens fast.  
 
We wanted to go to  
This point, stabilizing the office — over the ocean  
W/out water — ‘or personal contact.’
The if-movement (aspiration) can be thought 
a saga you (like any of us) can pump off & on — so on    
 
-coming then coming clean is another part of closeness.  
Later, new police!  [talk of paranoia...] 
I flash forward to some new policing. And I’ve never been more uplifted, more unnerved by an against-type chamber piece somberly floating in fun insight, now audible signs of history, of intention, preparing us for a fixed melody with renewed power.  
 
Unless there is nowhere else.
132: I’d like to bend rules for a stretch to wipe within a finger painting
where we get dressed soberly for the a.m. sky out west —
It’s so cold here. A place for mourning w/ subdued hearts, rare
minerals that become tree colors we paint grey and black back east.

Your eyes I love, and they usher us
where full stars by your complexion and grace torment me more —
more than half the sun, more than half of heaven
as your eyes become your face.
I’m drunk on uses of empathy and bounce. Or plans change. 
Universality is homesick, having lived off the nice laws of physics. But not now, it’s daybreak — 

Conditions look staggered, off-ivory — wanting the universe (I do), a profane
absurd Rubik of dawn’s color range, 
yet how far & vast connivance 
liberates the universe to put aside laws and whiffs of disuse.
Are you sitting in the sentence listening ? wearing nothing but eagerness for a motive to  hear what we were afraid to be?
One presumes elements are strung together out of desperation and a deeply ingrained exposition to demark the unknown, much as technology funds science.

8/15/18

Keep secrets in brackets to float free. 
Free momentarily. Here [or t]here — volatility models! according to our genes spreading, vocalism in a sense. We’re beaming them and their feelings up with unknown and hidden risks — fat chance shifting their weight brings in slimmer odds.   
 
All or nothing, win and lose on cue.
We are free — still — to say what some think — but their recipes, or ours, are perfused with given theory. Trees in place, defiantly miscellaneous, thanks to a compliant Leitkultur, treeways on a berm, backdrop to the ideal civil democratic union with permissions built on headwinds — dormant crescendos 
 
with as it were or without lyric attitude. Good manners can scar others, you see, they also let us peons act like participants in marking time as tho subscribers to the regulatory plutocracy. 
Either way, I know so little about the state and the state knows much less — you see nothing but blank holes are slaughtered by blankety remote.
My name isn’t terrestrial playwright with hunter sunglasses for nothing. 
Retreating to circuit theater is a bore, finding 
backwater exchange wears down seeing infrared.  

Meeting up, we stand around, 
crawl and cover gorged ground. A once frontier then.   
 
Then what if our adaptations wear out on the ground? What 
if our species’ reach, having pulled thru, pulled out.  

That’ll be the day to bring a guest for the ride! 
111: Before I turn into another cure of yours, yours for my sake, i.e., I assure you a corrective hand took away anything too crafty in my nature... I am more receptive to work now and long subdued from harm, far and away.. at last ah! nothing bitter, I’m your willing patient (almost). Fortunes, manners, means, everything doubly correct and subdued. Pity in that sense our infection and bad deeds, guilt, nothing else — the die cast.
We’d like to shoot back to the beginning and thank Sinatra! 
 
IT warned us of overrefined emblems and their sweeping reproach. We’re not religious. Not by a long shot, snow in September? We took note of what you prize from the beginning and chose the pope. He is your pope. We had a few ideas in mind. We took off our pants and left for grown air, higher up.  
 
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?  
 
Signed, the Academy 
Neither dead or alive, the windmill in your imagination has a request, 
“to express things ... as they are when you see them without remembering having looked at them.”  
It’s an infinite standard for reading new vocabulary bracing for normal until climax, numbed in shade.
Matins in 4 scary minutes: 

Pet rooms to talk about (never hesitate) beating then shooting the innocent into a space fracas but our last victim goes broke, sighing take me, kill freely and find me O outer knee — 

8/14/18

A Deux Magots adaptation: 
Robots embrace the free market, it was announced in a penetrating tone,   
 

a pale twist of drifting nothing. Blameless, nonetheless free of anguish for a moment. Free of a tendency section.  
 
An old master picked that up from them.. ..wolves running through snow melting into wolves..
We could see from a solid distance, your rakish note to yourself, you mixed mediums .. no parochial shit.

We all have our own crowds that relish lyricism mounting a central stairway. Sour notes suggest quick detours and offsides. A couple of hours pass. There’s been vintage aversion within the pulsar, around a corner noise from sirens lifts up the galaxy. Sunshine starts to feel like a slap in the face.

Milling around is jammed.
I am citizen physicist to an inner antecedent for shorthand deadpan.
Drowsiness may be my great escape or I may just walk it off, forgetting evolution never optimizes what you already think. 

Your face, the trains I ride, it’s furthermore good. Even if you’re allergic and our staying casual definitely has the appearance of progress. 

(The above interlude rules us both shifting variants.)
121: A friend writes, assurance from dharma augments being &  extends
altercations to reproach non absence : I am & all men are not so bad, not vile 
if we reckon against deadline and accelerate just pleasures, and ok — 
my unfeeling mind has a point &  I see it. 
I think it good
The if-movement (aspiration) can be thought 
a saga you (like any of us) can pump off & on — so on   
 
-Coming then coming clean is another part of closeness.  
Later, new police!  [talk of paranoia...] 
I flash forward to some new policing. And I’ve never been more uplifted, more unnerved by an against-type chamber piece somberly floating in fun intelligence, now audible signs of history, of intention, preparing us for a fixed melody with renewed power.  
 
Unless there is nowhere else.
Tons of special forces in silhouette .. polished from water .. on day one we’ll .. imagine histrionic trails.

We’ll correct everything near the top filling in with capacitance-assistants, eventually 

Theorists of a visual world culture (camaraderie) wholly populated by posturing. After dark trials.
The air is sawed off, wishy, doing better. We were dangerous, once. Smooth rhetoric is purely blur. It’s too late to make it sparse. Now we’re appalled. Even our restraint is washy for its own sake.

8/13/18

Never dine — a term of
solitude.
I stress
we’re suspicious of wormholes, tho

I never use tone shifting while throwing a cookout together.
For what party in sleep?
Etude for an ice cube.
A sunny, boyish grin.
Winning the beginning, now smoldering.

“The float is radiant, jammed with radiant things.”
Back I said, a piece of advice.

Reputations precede character, tact of apprehension remains
deferentially. Creature brains are a precondition in reprieve.
A fellow on horseback. What a night. No problem 
Expunging a storied narrative 
That was normal, believable 
Then 
Waking up, sticky, stuffed-up nonphysical shrugs 
Not far off, across your thought to meet up, cough.. 
Not even having hay fever as a backdrop —
Hedged enough, nothing 
Hidden, nothing, 
Not a chance forever.
114: I say.

I say drink up.
My eyes say thanks to your shirking there’s so much.
Haiku-ing to Delmore Schwartz repeatedly gives me (monsters giving) head.

We or most of us have a destiny in flattery aftermaths. But it’s after that.

About to vocalize what the eye sinks in I can’t worry or pierce my ears further.
Microscopic levitation in words got modulated. Had to be. Modulated is like coming out to predict your views, sampling the masked hostility and indecisiveness of our verbal environment and backing it up with inexact explanations and multiplying love of what we were doing before the procedural took hold. 
Then we are off, taken off, clouds keeping our eyes immune to causation.
Angst roughens up indulgence. 
You knew the side effects —  samples twisting.
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 ..
Can’t say what happened that day (ekphrasis) but I know we slept because there was a pressed mattress to lie on.  The mime sequence where I speak out was overall spoofy. More, there was a modulator from a board of moderation.

8/12/18

Many of what we call instincts interact with musty legalese eventually. More  
than musty, foul as apres-euphoria.  
Tone-deaf dancing counsellors get more attention now s

I keep hammering a poem is a cat meow ten times more.
A private-public distinction, extension 8.
no longer limits outcomes for a buffered work force. 

Besides giving empathy like babble
I write on my agenda, 

A vapidly growing other hand 
once I launch it — 

I got married without knowing side effects 
— wait, I forgot why I called.
To Caspar,  
 
I think you asked for this over dinner.  
Ghost buds for twenty-first century renos in a whole range of sentiment.  
No chance, astrophysicist. 
 
So you get it now, assigning you to our planet to feel cathartic  
is dimensionally impossible. You’re dull. Rather uneducated.  
You’re all shine and velocity to us, the living!  
Sap is flowing, Caspar, top gear, top speed.   
 
Grab a sawhorse.
Sonnet 150:

Power to the powerful. A truism like this reminds me of a simple turn of the ignition, no big deal.. A journey over a pathless scrubland back at that bind when you and many were read by data beyond the (evolutionary) point. All in an identical manner, everyone getting one message while sugar consumption skyrockets and the new news advances in choppy ‘prose.’
Would you like to ask questions or can the news diagram its strength of skill?
That warrant was never raised, directly deducing another head scene to make me love you like the first time. That’s in my mind now, ever since love’s regimen bulked up, competing for powerful excess, more powerful perspective in every word uttered or about to be said, with all syllables performing as one compass spin between you, me and all others trained in our elite language, giving no cause to hate. True love, your worst exceeds my best. Who or what strength taught you to sway me as more worthy now to love you more?
En route to the dogs, there’s the apocalypse w/in; pushing deeply. 
Our lot’s in a hurry. Some Greeks added vowels.  
 
No future arouses chaotic phenomena rooting for any singularity ahead until there is no threshold. Matter persists, w/o dissonance, no disruption, a new status quo: perpetual and vital amid meanderings that are ordered appearances gone dormant, nearly, or snap, running off w/ fresh incentives for a frontier in more unboundedness, optics unravelled in dissolving attitudes behind all the good times forward.
What’s curious style? 
Engineered simplicity holds tho 
Taken whole:  
“Give in, dig it.”  
(There’s a new policy to block deletions.)  
I’m sipping Tropicana on curiosity’s behalf,  
Taken your lead. Word processing in Palatino sans 
All the time, staggering prose!  
 
Tomorrow I’ll  
Tap out more deletions I forgot to lose —
Who or what is as reserved and specific as moist film (a hue off, a little cucumber)
on a blade of grass? Yah but a friendly warning for the mind, 

Pal, 
Film ‘work-arounds’ bully sarcasm to un-wit ways and means to spiraling illogically. We’re closing the book on you.

Please, not now, Santa..

..invoking bad explanations, Santa is supernatural.

8/11/18

Landscape: Blimey. Over the summer construction advances. 
Uncivil also true, summer advances over the construction.  
Everybody, everything goes!  
... inevitably constructivist and supremacist impulses are joined.
I’ll tell you what awaits the prosaic in The Bible. Locusts.
Meantime the varsity crew: 

in crew house lighting eyes drift as if 

undressing underwater. I see why snails 

build a house. They stand around and tank, 
coltish to the end. Jacobeans.
My counselor affidavit registers deficiency of discovery and revolving pretexts. All the same, hunches count. (I’ve always been competing with myself.) 
 
Surely alter egos bear no responsibility for foundering within the social anomaly of treason.  
Rules commit us. Voters chose Trump. Yet this is the latest case.  Everything I note here is integrated. Remember those days? Remember those databases centered on surplus insertions while John Kennedy sober on the ground kept looking up... (Reminds me when democratic ideals could get by on appearances.)
57: I watch the clock. Being your slave, what can I do? 
I wasn’t just orphaned, I pursued other interests as you require.  
 
Time’s precious, 
save I feel and still show absence of move ment from the inside,  
absence upon hours — a sour dare to spend ...  
and to question my jealousy — 
So it’s taken this long to read the gospel of wealth and service.  
I dare not think of desire diffused at any cost to render your mouth a sobbing precious world-without-end.  
 
On the outside how happy you are ... are you? Tho this may be sad, I think no ill. Adieu.
I’d like to thank the Academy  
and ignore X to reinforce ignorance.   
 
IT warned me of overrefined emblems and their sweeping reproach. Can I have a parochial amen? I’m not religious. Nor are you. But I took note of what you like from the beginning. I had a few ideas in mind divorcing you.  
 
Oh, tech services, tell us a little more about your miserable ontology affecting checks, balances, and mantra logjams — How did worldviews crumble into unlimited environs and potential instrumentality to pantomime the common numerator undercutting American literacy?
Angst roughens up indulgence. 
You knew the side effects —  samples twisting.
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 ..
Until done,
Factor in visual plug-ins for artisanal calisthenics that’s a load from the mirror. 

Corporal resonance turns into a reflection out of which you can finger-point to the horizon,
Magnified and now askew, flaking off. So note what happens. Yeah? A soar sport.

8/10/18

Insert the bonus and exchange — what do you know!
Your tongue, clean up to your neck — radiant 
 
patterns, your drain pipe a phenomenal factoid that can end in a draw sustained by  
getting up, stretching for other solar systems.
It’s July, August.. 
And this is what it means to have a muse. Bone blame. 
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 (two constants) as she goes beyond the joy of subverting the arbiters of something. Something something. 
 
Paperwork fastened to repetitive joy, July, August..
Striking the bell, lightening round.. 
Take a test. Brightness gushes out, but colliders roughened by screaming take a fall. Living ballet is euphoria-through-turbulent-process and comprises your early morning critique. But do you understand the point of the test?

It’s tight. What happened? Diagramming conditions of jitters and others’ sentences, I am anonymous either way. 

Tho before the mist rolled in I felt your grace, holding on with both hands.
Sonnet 120:

En route to password assistance, astronomical infinitesimal amounts are rounded off as unsolved,
unkind problems, compelling work that front-load knowledge construction — like your 
finding a bowl of unsourced light to explain & reform a ransom amount of times-spaces. 

Sure or no, my deepest sense certainly. Nerves of steel. 
Yes, attempts to throw your voice are dumb & of a special force 

— I suffered in the same crime — 

From the unknown risks. As first-time infringers we don’t mushroom, 
Ignored. But we seem hellbent when two or more reach assistance, 
So we need oversight.
We all have squatter’s rights. 

We never forget and we do not forgive. Even tho we’re too fat to have insurance, our moms have always been supportive. Viruses are like that. The wind too. Shivers of a sigh, glistening in black, typical of nothing congealed, we made messes all over the nestling ground to suit a creative purpose, balancing running around everywhere in total regression and then explaining our gorilla masks as a prior condition.
Midnight, one o’clock. Slow as suds. 
 
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. No matter. 
It feels like impossible.  
 
Likely, shhhhh becomes welcoming  
hands that boss, get you done — 
 
parliament  
maneuvers. Explanation intact.
Marxist-self irony:  
I’m a neo-accepter of making and being particles of subjective misnomers.  
Eating and breathing them too.

8/9/18

Ode to the dead (maybe not yet). Then dims. 
A beautiful sentence:  
Everyone’s in place. One’s place.  
Food also knows where it belongs. Rapid in general.  
 
The stage brightens. Thinned out. 
Is it sub-luminous un-inhibiting our endowment?   
 
Knowing the ropes to scale now, even substance,  
clearing the theatre of lame comforts,   
 
Stern, all the food pecked over, even down  
to our place, last place, last row.
Celebrity stalkers. 
 
We invented Hubble.  
What we thought we knew per brassieres 
we enjoyed making dumb-  
great from the top  
terminating in masked handlers. Peers’ backyards  
 
following orders so we reflect their mistaken identity,  
immune to sudden desire with intimacy.  
What have we got to lose?
A warm light is produced by heated argument. 
Heat the cosmos can hear. The blazing trajectory halts in NYC or Washington on-to-nowhere, a very mean arc to bridge, all right — erratically stencilled with tweezers-length trapezoids at its austere outer rings that are comparing infinite sets.  
 
Taxonomy, to get back to the cosmos, stands tiptoe atop shoulders of ascending ideas, forgetting the battered raw laborers below lined up on broken mosaics, necks pounding from overtime  
 
like ex-royals.
69: Kind eyes are deeds,  
parts of you the world sees  
and views with a voice of souls watching, you now 
crowned in tawny daybreak synthetic light,  
measured accents on seraphic white.  
 
Both our hearts can mend, thus we loiter intently.  
We smile, neither laugh. We’re extending our
praise looking into bare truth farther than the eye shows  
 
And finding our love in the outward beauty of your mind.
We unholster & dance across the room / a lumberjack in me & you. A cobra balance in our DNA.
The color wheel for our genes is graduated to go with our rainforest ethos & smiley 
faces. We speak in our mother tongue of fine ethos and interiors, to no product hewn.

I have the same problem buying oil.

I see your inside voice, binary to binary autosuggestion. 
When it gets dark it happens fast.  
 
We wanted to go to  
This point, stabilizing the home office — over the ocean  
W/out oil in the water — ‘or personal contact.’
What can be done to language? Never again? 
 
Boredom is poor experiment, our knobby 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 reptile frontier.  
 
Time I guess to air-lift foolish eagerness and uncover 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 2nd cousin just blew past that. I never never... Yet I consider myself a neurolinguistic product manager. Once removed.
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.

8/8/18

Song: It sounds like you know the feeling but you’re not getting it. I want to distinguish our common introit of grabbing knives and spoons v. the naive intuition that expresses it.


Missing you is hard to implement & doesn’t change anything. I want you to be happy but on time for signing the release pledge, availing yourself of lilac patterned backgrounds here that look like versions of wicked cunning & mirrored parsimony canceling out our love triangle — set against fetishes & hiked vibes. It also helps us rolling in bed side to side.
As you had to know, I drive a Steinbeck but dream in a Camus. 
I’m a woman. Or you. We have all the training we need listening to Jim Carroll — oral chemistry, the beginning of rage, this is my body. Almost the same as hopeless, the only oasis was just passed. I was more at home with early stage fright than deconstraining tastes at war with passivity. 

Then you and I had an urge and we felt gorgeous wearing an engineer’s hairnet over the situation.
72: When love is missing shame is worth nothing. . nihilism.
You devise virtuous lies (dear love) .. I picked that up, false, smug and cute. .
a braid of welts around your neck. .
My name may be buried where my body is. .
the body you should love... .
.
I’ve just noticed you haven’t recited anything, Gabby. .
Let’s rewrite your true love untrue. Make it count. .
In this I fear sarcasm.
I’m having a pitch dark 
brainstorm so obvious 
why stop  
 
Only, let’s call it implanted intelligence,
O baby  
all the way unnhh..   
 
O yesses encompass in advance  
shimmer  
— crash. Al-  
 
So let me see..  
dreams put us on a live map  
that maps us into their program.
A portrait should be backdrop in this. This one of you in the back. Undressed — except for slacks — bordering on up-waisted like Updike. Look me in the eye and diagram conditions of spatial sentences (touching both elbows behind your back — 
 
Not out of calculation) — I now know this will be ok conditionally 
For big amounts ashore are fudged — we can watch it come true on one side — tempted by re-mechanized perils, untested, untried, nothing better rubs me back within its reach. It = your grasp, my central aggregate.
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.