12/31/15






12/30/15




Good-bye, my darling. It was beyond great, but I have to go back to Sara Teasdale and the kids. It’s nearly a chemical thing. (Jack)



It’s a hundred years ago. I’m with Maggie Airport. Good-bye, my darling.



Next time wear a swimsuit under the towel. (Jack)



It’s a little early in the day for me. I can’t write in a swimsuit.

12/29/15




Websites lie. This a translation lesson. I’m elegant and round. I can’t snicker. You can though. ### I’m off the wall. So I turn blue when I cool up. I blast by myself when you leave for work. When you come home I produce a mental readout of how long it takes you to set the new temp, humidity tolerance and so. ### I can’t snicker I’m elegant and round with a mirror finish.

12/28/15


2016. Rhetoric dies.
Came from outer space; was well radicalized before it got here.

Freer speech in every direction
for walking strong will accelerate, wild,
ruthless in a sense, the umteenth layer set in funereal trance
tweeting under the bust of the rhetor, a civil, democratic ideal.

No one wants to get ‘under..an ideal.’ Freedom is personal.

To wit — the supply chain yields hang-dog freeloaders.

...better to toss politicians, Cruz (from Batman), toss the fat stutterers, the boss Donald

Onto a trampoline.. they become teddy bears stuffed with social sensors

— here but not for long
— no chance

Or there’s more down the hall, a binary fission in dystopian speech when you’re expecting mere
rudeness, so we’re attentive, bound for well armed crazy wild disturbance.

12/27/15


Time for wine out of a box —

                     *

                                                Urban attitudes from La-Z-Boy.

*



A life is charged by the menu.

Occasionally you sleep, given immunity.

Not every detail is for a generalist’s eye; still I’m clueless about vertically integrated brinkmanship. Things in that terrain are deliberately made up to look made up, to look as if we think we need a hand skipping dinner, combing through motions and low pressure peeled back from almost getting

our tenuous, jutting fingers into and under the interstate that brings you and me home.

I don’t think life in the mind can be made up. I’m not worried it gets easier.

12/26/15




Fact: eye contact is more defensive but our strategies around it are consensual. Uncreatured narcosis aggregates, drifting toward humane sense. (And all we did was tie up our shirts.) This is how contingency shows up in prayer, making a pattern to and from alterations sited within a figure/chicken-ground/egg round robin.

At the same time I condemn and mourn meritocracy. For all men are servants (JC et al.) that nonetheless practice geometry to respect the brain. (I don’t think it’s called Trampoland for nothing.)

12/24/15




Anything Apollonian looks flab prone.
Capacious anxiety, yup, refusal to arbitrate glamour, okay... I’m done.

You can break the law to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
Either way is a fractional infinite in the context / e.r.

In the large apothecary we call all infinite sets
Something is definitely going on.

Some lefties feel cornered (not to say conned) but
It’s breathtaking to administer the right thing to do to you.

12/23/15


I am is still here, the body’s purring could not be put off. (One dissipates the other.) And one sorority reviews egg whites in their spare, bubbly zeal to outpace an apparatus (not properly issued to commentary).



*

Wrong. Constantly wrong is correct once an hour if you’re a minute hand (person) and can’t move. Seriously? But what is identity.

[...can’t stop it...through language [going in] [out...] cheesy time lapses in which [animating backward] speech & narrative continuity become incrementally

transformed into deep structure affixing Old Norse phonemes to nonobservant verbs. ]

Now my head is cleared.

Still how can it be effortless if I tell you what I’m doing?

If we had grounds I’d subside higher up on the surface having you weed out caution.

I call this a sex drive.

12/22/15


A civil union is the Oxfam of self-doubt.

Drive-me-crazy men are not meant for union.

We’ve heard of mezzo motivation. You’re supposed to finger things out.
Doing the honors in a climate of solo opinions and best practices
we’re satisfied in many parts; soft ha hah’s between lines, like here,
snaking around on his heels, Eros —

*

The calm never resolved,
because we’re only one muppet and one marine
reigning over Proustian project boards, cost curves, etc.

“‘In a way’,” he said, “‘nothing saved me —’”

Ein Wunder, bitte, like 12 drummers drumming, our bacchanalia is talked up on the spot while it gets slotted in —

I think I love you all-purpose
one.

12/21/15


Living somewhat left of Unitarian

(Siberian cranes)

It’s impossible to separate churning out understatement from the performance; both are adolescent in a good sense, pitch. So that’s how the cave and landscape felt. Next, a full database advanced by a minimalist method, burning out your swing meeting half-death in no way hapless, sensing no value contingent; partly insight, partly not.



There is an anomaly. The work includes more than verse bits, but one’s speech makes every act composition, one’s part in the work.

12/20/15


You’re exempted from outdoors, Psyche,
Exempted from showing up to enchain, knife, subdue..
That’s before I reverse your fragrance,
Schubert playing, giving away what we’re good at

— gosh a population for tears forms in cozy motels.
A class struggle thinking it’s for real.

The struggle, not the tears.

12/19/15




Memories were untold on both sides.

I need you tho.

I’m not sure how to answer that.

I’ll have sherry Pepsi. And just the sardines.
I’m sorry this happened. I was going to stay
from the moment we set the stage squinting within representation,
getting some miles in, taking them on board, putting them in mind
of a future photo realism.

Bye, maestro. I’ll butt dial you
egressing, achieving very little with the argument intact,
noting pride in our measure to
— section our itches and engagements
— go over, mix more with some census guys,
cashiers — it’s called freedom of worship.

12/18/15




What’s my business? Aperture systems led me to holding

These volatility models from tv, vocalism in a sense.

Hidden risks lift weights (merge accounts request).

CVS photo counter. I know him, he knows me, I admire him, he back.

Instructions are errands; I’m my own boss.

12/17/15


My agent is a penis.

Any shortcomings balloon in ‘harmony’ w/ use

— whereas my epistemology scampers in transparent secrecy,
w/ several ideas to leverage new agents in the pluperfect..

Therein, a civilizing process to staying purposely
dull, entered into too by spotting it first. It’s

a clear refinement where character offers liberation,
supports your tarantulas from underneath. You can go right in.



This is color: Q-tips & smoke. I can pick you up, take a day off
        from everyone standing
physical & prime for the stress of relays between a rat race
        & security IF

my 3-D models are you & everything else I can be w/ w/out you


12/16/15


There are a 100 butterflies out of sorts in what’s wrong watching even one
or two spin like mediums,
happy in the dirt, re-engineering their variety and persistence. To no use

One builds something better.



It’s the vibe, not leaving you out.
We can feel it drinking coffee from a can, its sticky metal heat, fun,
seething too, proportionate to the open space.

The smoke is rubbed / worn and we’re mortified with ozone.

The whole firebox glow yellow wallpaper engages on.

The collapse of saying it better is.. reportage shifts, functions bounce.

12/15/15




Tequila Mockingbird A Novel
Carter Ratcliff
Station Hill 2015

You should be sitting down when you read this. Off to a corner where we can relax and welcome immodest Fiona, deeply and superficially (where it counts) our best friend for esthetic comfort and compressed instruction. Fiona has a last name but we call her Narrator. She’s all we need. So settle in.

Narrator never stops talking so we pick up a lot fast, in reliably splintered ways, since Fiona’s physical beauty totally represents her communing with disparate voices of other glamorous sluts, along with a gallery of mainly undercooked males — beautiful slut fodder, yes, many of them, but males unable to backstroke over the racing grid of infinite triple-A babe procedures. “Marta Marakova is holding me,” Fiona could hiss, “kissing my cheek, I’m closing my eyes, inhaling..”

Narrator is star witness to her bifurcation from old to the new, Fiona to meta-Fiona, “one of those girls who lives in her thought, not in the land of living, breathing bodies and functional brains.” So Fiona is most alluring. Almost always dealing in thoughts inside their refreshing facets — illuminating near-gravelly voices from all over Manhattan; voices that fly the Atlantic and many points south; voices that know the best season to dominate boys in Italy (autumn); voices posing in the big magazines, ‘Harper’s Bazaar, especially..’; voices with death threats hanging over them.

The brainy parts of the farce reinforce Narrator’s self-arguments on sentiment, ‘the warring forces.’ Fiona digs down to find what she feels about good old Fred: “he’s the only one who gets things. Except — what things?” Seconds later she knows, “he’d be patient, help me get to the point.” Fiona’s points are about sentiment, knowledge and knowing. Focused on semantics, she does something true and playful, separating British from American ‘poofs,’ or she gets a little more serious, defining her boss’s ‘total resentment’ as less than ‘true hatred.’

It may be, surface beauty and beautiful sex are forms of knowing Fiona runs through again and again; her life as a model among models ties in with going all the way — to a next step, “I’m going to be a stand-in for a statue, which is a stand-in for a living, breathing human being.” Poof.

Midway into Tequila Mockingbird Narrator chimes in with perhaps her most shameless compression, conflating Fiona’s modeling group get-up, lots of hair gel slathered over naked models, with Botticelli’s Aphrodite on the half-shell. “This is my favorite painting. Except for that Bronzino portrait at the Frick.” It’s a portrait of a half handsome elegant guy with something extra, “he’s got this huge hard-on. Which is true inspiration, no? To make his hard-on a part of his portrait ... anyway, the gel is supposed to make you think we’re sopping wet, like pussies dreaming about the hard-on in the Frick ...”

12/14/15


Ceremony, a philosophy of :

Can you take a seriously argued philosophical position and call it ceremony? Yes.



Rustic wedding symphony:

[Just before going thru with it, however, we started looking at the bridal gifts, lots of chopped vegetables (or vegetable facets) in the accounting as well as astronomy as pertain to unexpected reordering of mixed waivers, how these areas are comedically meta laden by dint of a non vegetative force that implels monstrosities.. they’re hidden quite a bit further along, occupants of an ultimate middle ground, tho, between endless pain and one’s data (data = life) offed. Rational function fails until you find some end zone for Longer | Higher Meaning | Religiosity! — an arena for squeegeeing and bursting ires ..]

We marry. There are mantras on rustic tolerance and good manners but no one has more than the allotted answers for the stumper final (newer solutions are nothing less than what we had in mind!) :

Where did passions portend? Search on This Topic, Wittgenstein mentions a handbook for minimal methodology... [transcending its genre] co modeling automata, ‘atom-isms’ of any one philosophical position’s task.

Did I mention Wittgenstein helped set our algebraic terms? This is a dynamic factor everywhere the living supersede manners and physicality itself, where there is no privacy. Not now. Started back before Béla Tarr’s close ups, his editing, the ‘border violations’ and the runtime of his films transcended precise location and presence.

12/13/15


Involuntary ideas of thin dots and stripes, that’s a guess.

For Christ’s sake I saw you in a documentary.

I saw your name written on walls

(sons), foam under rush-formatted steam

disappearing like figure / ground battalions,

pretexts (w/ no sound) — more

appreciable fear a cappella —
There’s product on the loose in good tailoring,

faintly reeling w/ descents into moaning
nonentities.. the Ralph Vaughn Williamses..




12/12/15


To tyranny,

I was thinking of god, the shoplift energy ..

Hold on, I was handed this bag of sentences.

My views are not incompatible with yours, only there has to be a head severed by someone in charge orating toward torchbearing shadows —

And this is what I did not want to say.

Government is not that impregnable. The background is a colorful PROCESS shot. An athletic-to-pallid fraternity, mostly, locksteps for the hot scent, clothed in little that’s formal but a motive for eagerness. And they’re always wrong to prolong their appeal.



12/11/15


I lost track of our last banter.


As a rule any attempt to hold forth is off topic.
The community’s been repurposed. A river dried because of science.
The rich (not advancement) won.
Still there’s the moral watchdog that wags a peace flag for anyone / any gender.
Underneath, it’s mostly useful to remain a sequence of light. Short sleeves, a thong.
It’s with this other tenet I hold you and me for conniving to carpet silence.

12/10/15


A note: to John Wieners,

Illusory a
-utomatism maintains a low balance outdoors evolving pretexts that amount to near zero, a
large zero, derived from sweet metaphors for punishing discourse. A
nonetheless graceful concealment provides fractions within our known physics, demeaning no value and a
variable either way.



Thank you Jeezus.

For almost all our dual multiverses judge us smitten, each with one’s own cloud, lucent gray with a
pebble inside, each unrestrained and too outspoken while giving away access to a
fresh haystack in pursuit of a silver meadow.

12/9/15




In bar lighting, one’s eyes drift as if
getting laid underwater. I see why snails
build a house. They stick around, slowly tank,
coltish to the end. Jacobeans. With
them everything would be fixed.

12/8/15


Slumped over in gaffs, so
many without pulse, how did one stand tall, pause
then brush his hair back? Men
like him looking up like flight risks; say

“Exactly,” in that miracle voice?
A faint breeze on zoom as you slip
your phone in his pocket — How against

containers hanging along the bow all fonts
are justified by defacing matter —
1/2 linguistics, 1/2 I’m sick of nice things. Whiskey.




12/7/15


Paying attention is the field call haunting the future,

Skull,



More bounce for the retina to unscrew internal hysteria pouring up like a bass gruntbut embarrassing,

Losing both death and life

You look how I feel.
No plan is perfect.

12/6/15




Here’s one moving like a mobile while we go back to the invention of planets, sympathizing
with a numbers guru also the director of the environment — one of them.
Often that’s a normal if baritone and determinative segment to sing.

Swimming
to there uproots the light series, sopranos exhaling into
                                        pathetic lampooning..


Their emphasis reminds us of contingencies we picked up from a tray

of bright
boomerangs that tantalize in the feasible,
wanting nothing implausible and showing
what go around and come around, left to their own desires and systems.

12/5/15


Decor: Not dying is not not wanting to die, a unique semantic potential assigned an inventory. (Dying is not wanting to die and then waiting not to die: Between waiting, not wanting, desires crowd out a covert, unplayed suite shaped through a decade long derangement,

misread revisions bourne in
countering selfmastery, fighting it even in unspiteful moments

— was it something to do with prayer?)



All this repetition is not good ahead of patterned, glimmering haze surrounding powerful men, dating them, finally; you know, the level of glamorous self regard here is high, gnarly. If all we do is seduce and note our conquests, we lose. We lose austere joys, cloud dogma, sculpture perpetrated out of wire in scentless comfort, winter is coming skies. Scentless discomfort, too.

12/4/15


I’d like to restate rules w/in a
finger painting
where we get dressed for the weekend.

Full transparency on stilts w/ quarks and rare minerals that take on blackened
                    colors & Byronic properties
of a nonprofit love nest
heated w/ sea plankton.



The jet gate opens to the drawing room,
once a factory made of the outdoors where snow & sunlight
close their distance. The old new & new stretching doing splits,
an untapped kennel of oblique, puckish Swiss..

Just like other Europeans pulling off the stunt of delays between workplace & dogma,
anything everyone can live by w/out being
materially sequestered or brutally charged by objects :
so by these shortcomings we’ll softball in harmony
around some parts of sky & parts of parts.

12/3/15




You’re wearing a scent of rosemary.

I’ve always been there (here) waiting for that rush
Updrafts don’t even have, the time today
Our mouths can kill.

Ornamental border shrubs sometimes have presidents’ names or others’,
Dukes of Zoroaster, Forex, a snort of intuitions and of a finite nature exuding
Foundational values like panderers! Just get by the comic bits; rosemary is a loose
Entity in a world dominated by luxury blooms.

Your friend is smoking, “I’mind blown,” he says turning
Rational when we sit down.

12/2/15


Land use. That’s what the new world is about. Are we breeding steer or picking pansies?

I’m reading Jean Cocteau again, watching Butterfield 8.

You too. Sorry, I have no other apolitical associations I can share. I was running through the park everywhere. Don’t know why we are in this automatic summation of before now or a minute from now after the transaction but before it turns up on your mobile device. Last thing, the parallel adjective is ‘fuzzy.’




Richard Howard translates Cocteau, Unknown and betrayed, that is a poet’s fate, the and italicized. To continue, There’s another slant to male deadpan, social conditioning in lexical pragmatics. The schema echoed by take-downs, inflammable straw men (physique / text), and clustered pellets (biodata), whose immolation compels male gut pleasure. The instant take-down / -out. You can’t have deadpan without it.

Granted, on a more personal note, I can maintain a liberal pronoun to cry my way into teaching in the park.

12/1/15


There’s a cloying aspect when able bodies gather to
phenotype, we have to polish the devices

we had called gateways where wealth is wed (the dooryard)
to far correlates inventing a new intelligence of largess.

*

Invest now, daylight garners
each of us a stairwell math to snap out of going off half-

footloose & naked yet shooting for triumph.
(Triumph is creepy. We remember the salad shooter.)

*




The third part I guess is our resolve that comes in processing integuments,
weekly tea, investigative retailing, beholding a set of kettledrums..

Here’s our take on getting back together. It’s another part
to tensive healing (a method) stitched to transparency (washes of shadow)

*

in compliance w/ odds off bets already placed... wherein
musical notes, conflicts w/ breakfast & rubbery clouds, a proverbial laugh:

Nobody totally killed it. The docents were untouched.

The estate repaired to is only offered in the ‘thereabouts’ pattern:

still, it’s not overrated, I whisper to you, falling myself for reincarnation roughing it ..oh,
wait we did this already..