I had the idea surviving —
a songless vibrant feeling — a fair day
washed in over time — (if we need one)



What do you need now and for what?
Does it matter, that bravo question?
Do you test, tease, defame to get the best?

I ducked his punch, closed the distance.
I told him, no, no don't, I want to bolt. A little piece

in today’s Times calls Merce Cunningham’s
choreography Democracy in Action, a refreshing reminder
to the clique-minded.

Then there are Cunningham’s last figurines / their aptness in transit any time
when pragma-morphism brainstorms over innocence,
opposing absent zest vapors make-shifted to pulp —

Been holding our tongues. That’s how it works.

Non-interference in charge, under which an authentic kindergarten, language, dance, 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 targeted a fan like me because of ageless obligations to familial platitude, his camouflage in plain view, the focus of stiff winds over centuries-old middle ground.



A futurist has a softer side. He continues:
His life is his poetry, which is a biopic on my writing poetry about my life.
His life then 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. Aw.

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.

Ode on hold a sec. Is that how you see yourself?
There’s a world truce out there (fraud protection) ..

We can remember when wisdom lay in de Staël turmoil, a title for the ‘rhetorical’ surface where middlemen / women are loathed today. Owning our words makes everything phenomenal.

(Our addendum is in the mouth.)

The French Suites get lighter, in transition, immune to desire & intimacy in the grips of mistaken identity. Theirs, not ours.

I’ll lead us to the border. Just call before you go.

I wish he had taken that job to sing of thingness.
Even so, if you could eat onlyone food for life, what would it be? “Take notes,” you said. You were speaking of a provisional throb as you forced his from the inside.

I miss the walled city where a cartoonist like him looks up when you arrive at this step. Try to remain calm. I’m going to talk you down.
We'll take the stairs, because the elevators refuse to gowith people in them.
(Ok, you there? Bye.)

I take an introspective view of altruism. Guess this is the advantage of an insider.

A wholesale opportunity has passed. It was more at home within stage fright and a vocabulary of constraining tastes.

What’s left of this year’s poise is the primary product, a topic rather than text or other nominal for authorial achievement.

The second garment is to give full value.
Both purchases areburning up.

Movies are a visual medium. The first word, w/out a word.

Astronauts ad lib macho challenges on their way to yellow flowers and white daisies
w/ wolfbane. How did they get in there? It comes down to not



‘that I miss you’ doesn’t
change anyone/thing. I want you happy and on time for the big release pledge.
It also helps to ad lib on your water bed from side to edge —

Planting ideas (marry me) restores our faith, popularly

escalating visionary disappearances
where every guess takes the edge out..

It’s our advantage being excommunicated.

Being British, it’s not our nature to boast. Fortunately, we don’t have to.

We’re British.

A-B / B-A.. She looked right at me.


Oh My God, I so adore you. I thought I was alone in my hatred.

Task me about something else that’s forced..
Stop hurling new foodstuffs, Bigly.

Because always we thought was possible

a quaff-off voice kept us happy.

(This is over a month, year, decade ago.)

My partner and a friend came home with a guy

they met at a bar. I was asleep but joined them

while I got my feet wet

as did the floor, so it happened again.

Can’t find a million on the street and not lose it

— I wanted to lose it —

I loaned it, I think.

It’s been overstated, the mind is a beautiful tool of late capitalism (the unwitting effect and cause).




Capitalism stands at the curb, a whiff of more aroma, waiting, eyes unblinking.



Hey we all have the same goals, forgery the game. ( Or one could seek documentation, semblance, something Swiss..



From now on the mind is Switzerland, ok? Two eyes staring everywhere, leave now. ) 



Capitalism thus gives up its dude ranch, akin to its rustic factories, a way west to prey on the drunk and disorderly. This is the highway the slug runs out on, leaving us a little dizzy.



I was wondering what the ...

The mind just kind of sits there. It wants to be best friends. It’s saved us some burgers.

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.

My back!
I got you. It’s okay.

You sure that’s why you're here?

Mr Peanut twisted once to look up. I hadn’t expected it. On the other hand, what choice did he have? There’s a term in telephony, ‘room tone,’ ordinary silence. My heart stopped altogether as I held my breath, then he answered.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh, um…”

“No. It’s not.”

“Forget it — have a drink”

“Because?”

“Look, he —”

“You don’t?”

“I would.”

“Well let —”

“You know what..”

“Promise..”

“Yeah, I think —”

What I heard while we both waited was room tone. The next five or six seconds would matter. In an hour he would walk us both down to clear our heads. He waited a moment more, then he said, “I’ve just noticed I haven’t said anything.”

Nature is too loud for poetryts.

I’ll stop here, because I know you dislike machine habits:

Des ert-wise, how’s it going?

Well, you know, for a few weeks a word like trounced came up.

I lost how small I get.

Here are today’s avoidance words.

More bloom in the rubble sands mint white

At first random, as noted last century, there’s a rustic perp to experiential style and muddled cool.

2 million years a species, we know $ is good, sexual liberty never expires, but the cool gauge is slipping.
Everyone on bikes gets swept under, bottoming out
while I’m not going anywhere until gang murders are cut in half.

With that many homicides I got to anticipate pest control as disingenuous.

In the battle between the various sexes? the rich pests won.

Politics is the gene expression omnibus.
Each of us is one viral video from fame.

Vanity is promotion.
Amen to white boats opposing innocence.

A poet under a cloud, Byron wrote of the dead among us living

— what they did is reprehensible, tho they added so...

Busy, sorry. The

substitutes are locked up. They

have something to do..



Over restaurants in museums

& cook-dating. They’ll... you

learn a lot all at once. Absolute

power over the last half-century.

Doctors, scientists working together
Swinging ultimately for the fences —

since Byron, the job’s changed tremendously —

They fly the Atlantic in this context

..really only this context:

There’s a thin column between their hey! & ahem —



Within a week I lost a pound

& my parties became off key fantasies, flute

scaled for kodo, familiar toepaths of scents.
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 &?

— to Sylvia Plath

They hear their voices as children bowed.

You feel in peril, have to join in.
I don’t get what you want

— our lives are directionless without a group, a clan?       ...

The telling problem with engineering simplicity,
You annoy others (meditations in telling).

I don’t mean rampage in a civil sense,
I mean surgically knocking other chanters

Off, throwing knives, wrecking them
From the inside, slicing up!

I was kidding I’m not religious.

Hail, love, I’m in hell with you
Having seen again what we know about us.

We're not living there right now; it's too far to drive, leaving us out drenched to the waist, hanging down by the sidewalk and sludge in blue and green mud streaks through thick glasses, filmed over.

The now is? I don’t know where it was. I wonder if they’ll show up.
These questions are battered about.

X subverts expectations.



Y understands perfection is error.



To appropriate is to provoke.



The ephemeral triumphs.



Parody pays homage to its subject. Pass the white gloves. 



Y gestures toward emptiness, embraces it.



Z’s funky penumbra is influenced by needlepoint and class resentments. 



Value is contingent. Nudes mean more when their heads are chopped. 



X’s signature deadpan is unoriginal self-reflection digesting socioeconomic truisms. Ultra blurry and anamorphic.



The signs point to abstraction. Dad knew best.

Please reference Christ w/out irony —


St Joseph and I were looking for new peanuts.
Had a drink, got to bed.

Architecture, carpentry together,
One shouted, “Estudando o Pagode.”
Wonderful at frustrating.

One’s trying to put forfeit words over
Party Two, unrelated and unknown. Distractional bliss.
Dogmatism.

When his looks offered up smarts,
In they came / endured
The bejeezus, tattoos and piercings.

I knew the family members he had, too many
Buy they are married, too many pebbles
Ashore. Most of them carpenters, architects.

My gosh.

Did you ever imagine old masters wasted?

Their experiments in graphic semiotics appear

apolitical, outgoing, adaptable to pillory hindsight.

Married and still a rascal ..

EVEN IF WE ASSUME THE BOWL GOT BRUISED

a Chesire-smiling Henry James is like many at work,
a nutshell of a wonk
glaring, boasting
among ten babes, brushing
w/ family planning toothpaste.

A dictionary of Indo-European roots lists derivatives for gno = know, can, cunning, ken, kith, kin, uncouth, notice, notify, notion, notorious, cognition, recognize, connoisseur, quaint(?), ignore, noble (known, knowable), gnomon (diagnosis, prognosis), narrate (from Latin gnarrare); & these less ‘probable’ links = note, annotate, norm, abnormal, enormous. 



Poets, I guess, know this, so someone’s dismissal of another's work by shrug / hum is unclear thinking, a mark of unknowing. Patterns of dismissal show a settlement of ignorance. Ignorance comes easy, tho, among ego conservatives like me. First is not reading. I won’t buy the book, if given the book, I’ll sell it. Second, there’s reading (scanning?) just to find a formal quality. Can I do this? What’s the vocabulary like? This reveals a poco inquisitiveness, but it’s all about willful typecasting, bracketing in other words streamlined for not reading further. For face to face ignorance, there’s not listening or not listening much or listening to find an opening for my chance to speak (hey do you like what I do?). Hanging around other egos like mine is just not fun, unless, of course, there are compensating abnormalities. 



What I want are noble communities of uncouth poets who not only notice one another but stay awake & narrate Oh. If it’s abnormally sweet, you’ll be the first to know.

— drafted 2003

No no.. A trivalent forms at birth, blocks our death.

Where we live now we’re “into” military opera. Adherents have henchmen, dogma and the finesse of needle-felted wool.

There are two ambient music cartels here as well: Doggone moosebirds and dwarfs striking poses with all their dwarf power. Their de rigueur for now is writing over others to outrank the trivalence. I won’t do your religion, good day.

Just piano and voice. Sunken gardens with a fountain of moods for each of Four Corners.

We were wondering about invention of the planets, empathizing
With a numbers guru also the director — one of them.
Often that’s a normal baritone and determinative section to sing.

Sing: Pigeons pattern heaven where detachment cut back! Getting
To there uproots the light series, exalted then stiffened into parody..

Reminding us 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.

Second poem: Someday all this will be yours. Five hundred
City blocks that lean socialist, oblique, an
Untapped atmosphere of noir swing, slovenly
Housekeeping and, worse, puckish flair
And snappy dialog. Reading and living
Ontologically under-simulates the senses.
Be furious w/ the world w/ dog-food boxes, be
Angry at keyholes, too, w/ their conservative
Counter views to earnest alignment as one’s timing slips
Into the prowess of floating unquietly,
Into apothegms, into sidesteps of fine voice,
“A voice and nothing more.”

Love: nothing concentrates like consecutive sentences about our visual plan and its promise of more. That’s if I’m hit by what I feel in the a.m. I believe you. Evening you’re different.

You give me a musical temperature, a new marvel.
Finish a stretch and the clouds get confused.

What are we fixing up? a few rounds of bluish vistas — soft whorls of a moon phase over lakefront.

The lighting here is just off the boards, like when water lilies kick off their work boots and women rule. Snipers crouch,

the idea of Burberry’s.

Tiny, simple iterations, the best phases to clobber you. That ze plan.




It’s only 4 years. Stand still.

There are faith that’s gone on and consequences. There comes an enrollment point you caught your waxwork hologram in a partner’s eyes.

V entriloquating is something.

No one’s favorite word yet — nice aftershave, Rene

I got wind of it and put you in —

Can you be “quoted” in any meaningful sense?
We have two arrays for time & harmony:

The ass comment — I know you meant juniper
within a philosophy (in movement thru spatial dimensions)
(& the aura of a scent) forward!

Taking up another day I won’t shop. Almost the same as hopeless but within a socialist frame of mind. It takes a while. The way 23 hours ago the idea of writing today took a while. Times itself: A mindset occupied .. this just in — jokes turn into dreams. It’s dreaming that forgave us for everything (except melancholia). That’s because ideas, ‘sleeping while awake,’ get downgraded to icy normality, trapping you and me inside a force field owing to our expertise.

So there’s no lack of opportunity in experimental states of forgery.

Bottoming out, the face is inside a very powerful camouflage (instructing us to use it).


There were balls of steam suspended in bacteria over our hands, discouraging others. (A boiling kettle contained prescriptions, it’s a guess.) Better now if we not digress but file out a shade apart to trail the other copycats.

At top the penis is everlovin-elastic.

Heaven is in the heart with its egg drop of credos and documents, from which large scale dull instruments get tossed.

Repairing what has been broken within —
A mood is an emotional state. Comcast.

*

Everywhere there’s fog off a force field you tend to dislike, nowhere better!
No ripped off melancholy in a sky, no lecture / rap / blues, no shelter against the curious. I’m lying.

Part of what I do here. Throw up my hands!

It 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.

Your poetry is preliminary,

I reserve comment —



Don’t get above wrong

There’s below to mull over :



I remember those breasts
..


Geometry that respects the brain,

Fred Astaire kind of shit.

When I win, I’m



Drifting toward us,
It’s a back-drift



Sitting on your blanket. I’m

Over you now. I’m half-awake



Falling asleep in its presence.

It’s deeper than that really.

What is this iris if it keeps coming back?

Concision in detailing method is a catamaran in process.

This is how morning began.



Waking up from info of classical value, replicas and rapid transit. It felt like a school reunion, ponies with liver spots. Rando and Ann and a couple of younger guys with portfolios of collaged material, mostly text about itself.





Getting there we wait in long lines for a Trane. The Japanese are hardly speaking. I turned to a companion and asked if he was interested in how poetry’s put together.

He thought about some pure things are style surrounded by syntax. All at once.

We played “No one loves me like you” — then

We did

Phonics ...

When the bell rang to go home.. I was in a hurry and

Did

Not wait for anyone —



Ate 9 fries … That’s math. After lunch

Mrs. Brown taught us about binary numbers and

The mind.

I love math wiping the flesh

And solving problems. Then we interviewed Mr. Brown ...
On the boat and

Ate so much I got sick.
(Phonics makes me stir-crazy hungry.)

Physicalism (neural brand continuity) adapts to schemes.

Government is not that impregnable. The background is a colorful PROCESS shot. A lethal-to-pallid graduate group locksteps to the scent, clothed less formally, save motives for eagerness.

And this is what I did not want to say.
There is product on the loose.

Spring!: billions of highly intelligent beings with high degrees of morphic freedom bank with us!

We’re playing with a few new features and a couple we move in any direction.

Their funds are soon to be declared ‘NONCLAIMABLE’ and subsequently turned over to you!

You’re assured this transaction is risk-free, as we have taken all modalities to be less acrid and top secret.

Lugubrious or not, we’ve been informed of your discretion in our sleep / lines from Aeschylus —

You forget your first poem. 





You forget jabbering with Apidae divas.

You forget the gastropod nation

You forget being lit up by a nimbus!



You forget storylines garrotted across aeons
Additionally 
you forget payment of current debts.

You forget I'm technically inept and again I stay fallible

you forget this is for you.

2. Just a few questions, that’s all.


Why do you care about the guy? Do you know him?
Does he call you at home?
Don't worry, your funds are safe or will be.

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.

Meeting you again: A delivery system circulates all flowers —
they have many words for it

But it’s our doing, picking a few, throwing cash in for pizza ..

It’s a balsa wood decade, valuing hoax, coming too near, red-
shifted by no viability of conquering death with abundance.

Crafty, using our fingers —
a bloody field call to you futurists.
And the future
notices, you said,
but it does not impinge on flowers.

Or this is tomorrow before the cart.

The flowers all for it, all arms.

Flowers constitute long
shots in a ritual to outlast how nice that would be.

‘During the break we squared an agreement.

The sun feeling it, shears. Organizing an all-out

effort, ozone gets fucked over buildings,

thru windows, off square forest floors —


As redwood seeds pop up into thickets,

how can rape and rail keep from dunlin

trees their secret of the rare canopy, meaning

against meaning stressing postulates more.



This worked down thru eucalyptus sap, saying —
Sorry to turn back to this, pet.
Rub it in.’


‘How far?

Think or don’t think of it as conspiracy of/in the sun
in/of a square afternoon.’

Ode: I’m sleep.
An only hill
I’ve been searching
Awake most nights:

A clean face in the morning − caped
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light, the best.

Dogs and woods by the ocean
Together, like them and like us.
Can you dig the stillness? Can you keep an eye out, the ocean over.

Repeat this until approved,
“I don’t know about you”
But in a tone that’s affirmative
Like the jeweler’s words for whale
-bone / measured blues − while

This stretch, like all good comebacks, tells a story dropping hints of a larger, full-mouthed don’t-know − was it something to do with the focus on one side, blocking another? Do we lead a life another sings with you?

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?



Keynes says no one ever
postulates for free.

The real story is staring at your money.

You can’t count coin fast enough —



therapeutic C-notes without whose woven

mass, chocolate and auburn, showers of coin-

only patterns, showers of gold..



this was the hottest —

hot and cool tiny videos

of mist over water bobbing and

dipping in an eternity pool with views

down passages to stairs cut apart, fronted

by music waking in haze and sweeping brightness

with no memory how it got there.

Statement of purpose — 



Just because we attribute work to personality doesn’t mean I’m not a brute with a hammer in my hand. My nailing us together takes a moment of your life.



Whatever takes substance and breadth, I’m not doing it!

— Dec 2008

A minute or more from

Each year corrupts the ultra-field, stream, even slang
On the take; that aside, we’ll stick to literal cologne trails. Be funny and comfortable is one.

The lighter second is also literal, has more or less fun. Insert / handkerchief.
Shave twice a week. Does your dad look happy never to hear of thee again?

What can we do without sex and culture, genius?

Last, best, final. I wanted to ask you about immaculate being and going out. / According to slung
Allegory, it’s called Taking Their Place.

A hobby becomes the color of dreams, addiction.
Does it hold the same seasonal affect?
I know what I need, blindfolded.
Task at hand, to load myself into the cannon.

Roadkill is on the menu. Call:

On second thought, I feel great. Everything I sign for is effortless (thx to Yau) and I’ve got a breezy fan base. They get it. You alienate everyone and your writing rubs us wrong. You’re depressing the list.

Response:

Everly Brothers playing until it’s worked up to a crisis, its own category.
Irony-sincerity voted best….

There’s nothing wrong with commitment. I am committed.

I know where I am going

Gawky, rattling my own cage.



I know where the caged bird sings.

I shop in Brooklyn, RI.



Shy of seduction

I worry about nonacademic friends and family.



Like Clint Eastwood I was shifty.

Once. What was that about?

Concept this.

Your life is the intervals it contains minus your presence.

*

Which is a way of drawing.

You’re smug and cute,
a braid of welts around your neck.

Taking out details is tele
-genic hanging w/ you — so here — a polite form of the welt-
in-the-universe, comic beaker installed, a singing gas:

Storylines, battle scars, thrills, lobster, not crayfish, etc.
(dogs, tenebrae, & aimless sky conditions that surround our absorbing Tums)
to adapt under-the-tongue compliments for insurgents to bind heartache.

I’ve just noticed you haven’t said anything, Gabby.
Let’s rewrite “Biotherm.” Make it count.
In this I fear sarcasm.

So I urge the tobacco board (I’m so bad at focusing) ...
That’s how to hang names until they won’t balance.
We stumbled upon a larger issue. “Thinking about it,” laughing again.

Bernie Sanders’ platform: To vote is an act of federalism.

Voices in our heads are paranormal. How far is it to the casino?

There is a civilizing process to space

entered into by spotting it first.

Before the kill, yoga’s fantastic. You complain I’m brusque. It’s urgent.

Social justice is in a pickle. Who isn’t?

Let’s say you’re a man in your teens — that’s how it seems. Also, you were a near-death nut, now coming back to life. You say you are a woman and you saw strangers, that is, the appearance of strangers that fades away, persuading you to give up the life form of intellectual exchange..

It’s for good reason there’s oblong smoke.

You read in the report one investor came to deny he forgot he saw angels be strangers glancing back

as though you never knew the ‘aggressively disposed of’ on a first-name basis or you forgot the name of your buyers who were reluctant to pay.

The new world has been well-formed,
bike paths that never give / anything
blowing away ambience, beautifully made.

The pattern is breaking.
The polls are now tightening.

Your proof is the topic sunburn that we can take indoors to paraphrase without experience.

Even interrupted our conversation never ends —

You’ll be taken up on your offer.

Overheard on the walk from Lamont to Weidner..

A tremolo — we just don’t know —

could (& will) fill the ground trailing off within cogent discourse in a language without context. It follows thus : Impulses to conceptualize or collectivize contexts are fabulously auteur-like;

sentimental to the core, even if in fact especially if sample texts (such as poetic treatments, meta-essays) argue on the surface against individuation & sentiment. This is self sentiment affecting triumph.

The war rooms (ivory/media towers) in times of blanket authority — assumed — instantiate slaughter of memory & varietals of other texts, schematic petals, stems from where the other goes after s/he drops a thread.

The spring world became vegetables overnight, one or both aver.
Dear mood product injectors, dear United Nations and Plaza, dear darkness in the air.
For all plain speech gets us, dual multiverses judge us, them / anyhow —
each with our own shoes, lucent gray
with a pebble inside, each unrestrained giving away
the one day of all days
for others in either multiverse, which looks impressive now.
P.S. The seasons like before are morally exigent, shivering in a synthetic valence, coming back, never.