Q: I wanted to ask you about being or going out. According to the slung allegory, it’s called Taking Their Place.

My topic is appreciating your case. It must stand up, no limit within limits. What do we do here at times?

A: Taking whatever works to exchange the hand that feeds us. We let this happen, instantly, phonemically.

And if that’s everything for now, we’ll switch to metonymy. Something slangy but still recognizable, so a geyser in a box of sets you don't see? Nothing as great as pre-infant not-sleep in the womb! It’s like a prelude / a vowel habitat exploding with party frogs! There’s an aspect of covered wagons ’n vultures dropping eyeballs in fake vomit. At this point it’s no to rational sisterhood. No to your Belmont dump on a cliff behind the house. It appears we’re operating in sludge bubbles where the tribal language — just so you know, I love what you’ve done with the place, crumbling infrastructure, squishy puppies and pit ponies boosting the wage earners who surround your home — over here — the canonical devotion obtained in something, something pastoral. Let’s start with that idea and see if it applies. Here.

Before someone is on fire, do we take their place?

Long before brief punches of text looked great on the phone, there were the many snores from ancestors with their coughs and grunts crowding in together in caves. Back when our bodies taught themselves phonemes thru shrieks and groans to signal pain, humming to sign comprehension and varietals of cognition, folks like you hit what I feel crazy fancy, and headed for greatness in the morning.

It’s different from the evening on and someone on fire hits back.

Teamwork. Our people are what make us great.

The then thick grasses went out on a date, back dabbling in craftwork while we go thru them. All this acreage owned by the production-geared and prosaic at base, that is, a-theoretical, factual. Broken, misunderstood.

I like art. I know nothing about it.

Voices say, personalities, like voices, are lent to us. It’s directional, a Long Island aesthetic

like voices and solitary genius in the workplace (seaside, e.g.). Particles sleep them off in traffic, affecting hands up to the bridge lattice.

Inside De Kooning you’ll find warm things. Alive, charged, brilliant to the eye. Stuffed-ish.

Antic intellectualism invades the host work. The work & the life, almost like family and fellow nationals glimpsing it as it flew.

Fit chair fillers. Four husbands.

Not bad. Ok. Bye.

It’s kind of a coincidence. I want to go to golf school.

This time it’s the end of the beginning.

Outside Spot reflects the city,

in the clouds was too liberal. The guard was up. I’ll keep going, Mr Fox Now asked,

Why make so much of political origin or lab blue in here, there a few bird enthusiasts, or their ambiguity?

To respond is everything I fall on, Kief

don’t tread where Gladstone’s selectmen came into their weather futures,
a power grid, a genial power between cliffside rust tints ripped from interiors x-ed down,
in the danger in they did

..that treading part as distorted expectation of (a) their own intemperance (b) lutefisk facial impatience
with... that a phone on tv? or your own in the new era? (The flu, the common cold, silenced.)

How do parallels threaten a referent on the unknown page? Which fox drug is best?
The front gate won’t say. Barb? Spot?

Spot still.. or his surrogate intruding a week from now, his emptied refraction applied
to the taillight for syntactical beings (in a sentence).

Intrusions entail teamwork, coincidentally.

I assail billionaires.

Someone suggests slow focus.

Zonal travel thru science betrayal & precluded revenge for a slight :

these in
:

on the porch veranda-ing

teachers, uncles, older sisters, the Wart Council sneering w/ stuck-up nihilists like deze rubriek. Everything is listened to, cool. The surface is music twisting in shorthand coupled more lithely if there’s no disease & an amber cirrus above the sweat off the potato fields out to the dippers, in slag.

You’re having na affair. But why?

Ridgemont High is shuttered yet bleak, one of life’s I-feel-young moves & distances that keeps slapping you back, imperfect timing. We stand awkwardly where we are around the corner, w/al I felt it when your plump lower lip was duly rounded.

The getaway is waiting for the next to choose Always Allow

My daughter, Moleskine.

I forgot the meaning of the first line.
Common rail tampers with road pine
underlining greens, setting off your idea

I was never in 2 places enough to ask permission
(trying to please paid better)

so that got to you. Got that myself :

coming clean is part of a neat precipice that can’t stand for practice —
not while the restless recover from numbness :
blistered are the angles in light made identical, emotionally thin,
extrapolated driving that home. That’s the super-definition :

Pretext takes over.

What would be less fantastic? Full shelves of inexpensive great plans.

Factory-wise, you’re behind. Your Europe is widely preached against, against the odds. Christ demoted the Clearys for their cultural lag. Or we could say at first they were pieces of nonsense, their cities negated, their verbs rounded off randomly. Bad girl meets Santa.

Bad Santa placidly stepping out on a black wood lotus; seems mediocre, not horrible, whimsical, maybe. I love her idea but nobody repents to appease you, to bring you back shouting, perhaps. The old first thought and don’t think are not meaning a lot anymore; both simultaneous perception of opposites let go, causing internal illogic and more hysteria to pour up or mostly plunge in a faint. Yet there’s a rocking momentum, like losing both death and life.

News of rain there was so blatantly filled with what spread everywhere completely negating its purpose, budget-floating in blue fragments of Flemish-like starlight, driving the pre-interpreted departure from what is present in the original experience of being.

That’s your interpretation.

Can you penetrate an Iron Age ethos growing up empty of teaching with or without tasty, available reserve? To understand this way amounts to ridiculing the state of flying birds. (I remember the salad shooter.)

(Someone asked me not to do this.) That’s how not-shitty is while our so-named public face makes a living, almost kidding and choosing sans difficulty. What kind of government takes things more lightly?

Vaccinated, merciless itch, what is this homeland we travel?
Passing thought immortalizes the X+one “casting
of cities” thinking past us. A true 2 years before
messing with you. Why did we wait?

for the translators

No itch to run off with their ideas of a frontier in unboundedness, unraveling optics in lightning
over fog. Explosive homology ’n prudence. A pack of pendulums & immolation. It wouldn’t be serene.

11 minutes ago on deck. There’s still a lack of linnets and authentic wax.

And something came up. Initial elements are bled into messing up cherished ideals,

I see a dart has feathers and it flies.

When I put my hands up
you can’t hear me you’re going too fast (bicyclist to bicyclist).

It’s a misunderstanding of gym etiquette but it gets you ashore with one* shoe in hand.

I’ll find you.

*my one shoe = 2 I stole yours.

To

To chase is to be on the house.

Sorry,

I read what you sent.

Merry Christmas. You practice with no denomination.

Feels great out ahead until there is a threshold;

& in those same terms there holds
our reliance on hard pleasure, plans.

Validating market snapshots, optimizing the center
more than any single system,

like a huge agnostic discipline
about attitudes behind morals, I began;

you know this open and shut
take it down / or thumb thru

a cool looking statistician-meh.
To the point you don’t have to know anymore yoga than
we know – less than nothing, which exists (im)practically.

Monkish materiality does not exist. No dissonance, no disruption. There are
appearances, such as a vantage baseline holding apple trees’ leafy
incentives and shopping boundaries.

The Flying Package was (is now) leaving the office to half-
center taking off, chaos in the air again, it has to be done to depth,
his accent, your acceptance, the book covers a lot,
sweeping coverage and this most generalized ‘someplace,’ a staff w/ jalousie
or unspecific ref.

Translations

‘articles have been written on the topic of’ = il y a cliff record re:
‘snow falling backwards’ = Ack!
‘I’ll surely croak’ = s’up(?)

‘the world of secrets is its own’ = circumstance
‘Pussy Riot ... freed’ = don’t make it move
‘staff may be prosecuted’ = attack dogs toughing it out

‘if your dad was my mother’ = the more I say it the closer it..
‘an interesting interview’ = farted carbon
‘bangorrhea’ = ghazal..well..

NYC electro-noise = beware of this to-do
James Dean was driving his new Porsche = this is a trans whatever
the killer bee leaves = sleepin’ with the Limey was bad – and familiar – cheap shit in a paper sack..

Borrowing high, mighty simplicity, the killer bee leaves a pattern to teach school reform. Pushes flip-tops open. Put this together, there is a life that’s sustainable, and I just made this up, eco-friendly. (You are under no obligation.) This is a real company. We call her Cathy.

All ages had been there,
down the frozen path because it’s snow-
ing, attack dogs toughing it out, snow
melted before statuary of white cats, snows
ones spot the Buddha bare in, the hedge snows
as euphemism for voids entering snow
a virulent infection of snow

A morning flew by / Only a

glob of us surrounded in snows
wrung pink by serial foam.

My best friend is my most erotic partner. It’s a corporation.
But this has nothing to do w/ that.

His music brokerage remains in aerospace

Within no sound
where there is none
other than the last
S’up? no other devices for years.

The more I say it the closer it gets.

2 are no duality. Crazy cements form a plastic posture.

Down the.
Farted Carbon. “Bleach.”

This is weird. A focus group from the groom’s side picked us, agreeing
w/ newer media that blow jazz, lower right, your lips moving up and down, documentation:

in the vicinity of metrics seen seeming on top (of it).

Here’s the stumper. No one can help us sign for Eurovision. (It rhymes.) Where is twilight?

Whatever the ism its urge to oppress is put down to the tulle underbelly, plus anthropology. We open our front door and see what politics didn’t do. The shortest path to noting your path is ignited by havoc, honest and exhausted people. From it’s-not-the-same-now to the science of celebration their betrayal is addictive.

And anthropology won.

I like most of their noneccentric symbolist umph.

They gave me the strength to be there, ameliorating, wild-eyed, on the curt side, one feels naked in one’s responses like others’, all the room wept glowing, tiled back and forth mistily across an immense and distant daze, half of it waxing with the plump bride adorned along mortal circumstance.

A square insult comic told me I go for the moody and unexpected.

The color of his spine high and low, unlikely yet foreseeable.

So I put his name in every ghazal. Am I fit for that? Are you and I? I ran out of balls rating you. I found what you say emancipating, even if the data are hardly unadulterated, driving me, well..

Doesn’t it transpose and inverse us when categories are givens we don’t need to work out?

I have a sentence for everything. This is a trans whatever.

Some of you is more sound-oriented while translucence flushes downward.

Your heart is impacted by his eyes, non-music-industry.

Solitude, confidences, you’ll learn times in the day, plays and the jungle of paradigms between that adds up what you say waiting, keeping your eyes busy on a Japanese course of action.

And there you go, retreating to that panoptic middle ground where they still have innuendos. You don’t have to choose the Non-Group taking part in the landed cool to outlast time, but no thanks. This is tomorrow.

A Line from

each year corrupts the exterior ultra-field and stream,
now I’ll show three cologne trails. Be funny and comfortable, first.

The lighter is literal and has more fun. Insert a handkerchief.
Shave twice a day. Does your dad look happy never to hear it again? You trade. Bow.

Last, best, final. For the good of your person, family, the total airborne, hands down, if the Cardinals have a home game, you know where to find me crushing a hotdog on my forehead.