The last out-shipment was in vain and embarrassing. The bus door was gone. You could look right in. Suffering, complaining, two out of two observers were cut off. Their surnames are, oh forget it, huh? randomly conjoined.
You see our new brands have legendary roots, cleansed of terror. I was thinking there’s a list of field after field training listeners for Schubert, lecturers, saboteurs of the heart.
Fall back and breathe while your rescuers get authenticated. That’s when brush fires walk in, celebrity temps as in love. (We are the leatherheads you come to bury.)
Breathe, kick, push kick, five ..
It’s about letting go and you’re taking me out of context
corner opening for a split personality, monotony falling away,
overbalanced, rolling into a conference =
having few doubts about crash test results,
the sharp melting into the swimming ..
You actually drain me
(Maybe it was perfect to begin
with also, you see and amnesia.)
innocent on a wet highway, casually substituted
(Even an outrage is on egg
timers, since lights are out in other corners.).
This would do over a lifeguard’s concentration for one of our vulnerable technical
observers, a comrade of detection racing as horses race.
And how the fuck does he get to be five years younger?
The underground = career trajectories. Preparing is special. Many will come. What sounds lunatic? It’s impossible to separate the churned out understatement from the performance;
both are adolescent in the good sense, pitch.
So that’s how the cave felt.
Next, a cool one advanced by textuality. Minimalist and.
To burn out your swing try knowing you live on
meeting death half-way hapless (and deceitful),
sensing value is contingent, partly it’s insight,
Hey, someone cut the grass, that green, wettish smell is everywhere. Hay. Optimism.
Let’s dump her in the rearview, a blur of a town, a double bang of footholds in dizzy luxury,
punching thru colorless straws and spheres. She’s savoring the punishment. Optimism doesn’t care, looking to everything that’s snowed over by trivia thru our addiction to wanting. It’s like getting tattooed with visceral consequence.
That she had perfected this freebase of abstraction warranted us to make caring up, like stick figures and collision cases in a dominant culture. (This is her first attempt at working in three dimensions.)
Tribal identity or trance? What will matter is how to find and / or place each dimension. One will be classified by her evolutionary adaptation passed on to descendants. The field for evolution has been one’s work multiplied by preferences, vapor. The work includes more than these contributing bits, but one’s words make everything she does her composition, her part of the work;
Ever notice? We’re not alive in our century. Our nerve is infused with regulatory propriety until it becomes a dance to guilt to found paradox.
Name a landscape and you give birth, rename it and you bestow to it an ecology of resonance and history.
And here the body politic questions boundaries and syntax, hooked on wistful exposition.
We’ve heard enough. The black president dancing with a lesbian is deemed provocative. Teens shave whenever. It’s a lighter time. Yet the governor selected Oceans 14 analysts in terms of “minimal dark gender-driven counterinterventions” or “exciting post-disproportion” or “the dark valley of statistical tempests and tarnished ancestry”; any one of these features bunched w/ abasing trends, cloud atlases; everyone holding magnetized, spinning, blasting nearby with cranberry force!
We cannot mean erasure remember.
Half-vegetarian, the self-colliding fog drank only the discounted, treasured demographics for smoke-free energy.
You decide about the boyfriend’s audible glee, clapping, etc. in the background.
Let’s adore a good deal more while putting out the details.
Sometimes a partner can be deliberately and aggravatingly passive-aggressive.
I’m kidding. I’m being sarcastic
there’s geomancy to being perennially other and oppressed,
the oppressed by what I change when or where I am free
on the outside, in a place of earned vision and natural voice while a bouquet smolders
w/ the emancipatory normality of alien dominance to attain evolutionary altruism.
Oppression of that
if I make a judgment about it, then it will lead to his anger and resentment:
Those who still insist on fighting state power, let alone directly taking it over, are
immediately accused of being stuck in the ‘old paradigm’: the task today is to resist state power
by withdrawing from its scope, subtracting oneself from it, creating new spaces outside its
Anyone holding the mortgage will die.
I’ve been with BP for twenty-four years.
This is not how an escalator aches —
you apply stimulus until it doesn’t look ugly.
What goes with Land o’ Black Rock?
A naked person is bigger than that. He was 11 when he got
a job at the pizzeria-acting sweatshop,
a distinctively Californian combo, on Setting Boulevard.
Mortal Keanu Reeves is not reckless, iniquitous, or anatomically complex,
though monotone to the gills like a slower yet more self-subtracted Rod Serling
in knock-off Prada, distorting the status-quo on our otherworldly streets.
“Where are we going?” This or that way. I guess so. Not particularly.
Earth therein leaves an imprint: Devoid of message, nonviolent like us tho
smacked down by a tendentious, retroactively inarticulate coordinate — Keanu
We’ve heard of mezzo motivation. You’re supposed to put your fingers on things.
Doing the honors is separate so not particularly grandiose
in a climate of lonely opinions / expectations that we satisfy motherfuckin sopped.
My other car is a broom.
Everything has three parts. Pieces whose lengths alternate between eight lines, like here,
snaking around Best Buy, ‘our entire cultural orientation
is on its heels’?
A saxophone, ice cream and you may figure prominently.
To cheat the fates dawn marries your projectile. Welcome back.
A civil union totally crosses the line yet
the first kitchen is chemistry, the Oxfam of self-doubt.
This calm never gets resolved. Every traceable minute
I’m a muppet and a marine, loving you for charity we overlooked,
reigning over Proustian triggers, cost curves, etc. Makes us feel at home.
“Punched in the face. Mugged. Knives. Guns,” he said
(shiny in the rain)
— he took a last look around before hopping back into the Lexus
(with self-drying brakes) to get back to the jet,
‘In a way’,” he said, “‘nothing kind of saved me from the worldless’.”
He made note of the burnt-out McDonald’s the one his father, Raffaele,
used to forbid him to set foot in before he finished his doughnut pillows.
Or “how can I pursue this friggin argot of ours along
with do all of this in a way that doesn’t reach just boys or maybe they’re girls
but thousands addicted by watching him stumble, lose it, and fall apart on tv?”
That our bacchanalia is nonfiction was slotted in. I think I love the all-purpose
one. It’s a nuance all right. “Or it’s nowhere?”
Any answer and the question carry a distinct echo of advertising and therapy.
“Well,” he said, “there’s been lots of therapy.”
Just “the things I feel for you day in and day out” drive me crazy.