The longer I live it’s in front of me.

There’s a glow in seconds before the scheduled avalanche, fun ..and explosive. Wow.

Or much like staying right in no now.

A chosen toothbrush has been abandoned. I’m forgetting about it.
I’ll be heading out soon. Moving thru a lefty runoff. I won’t be funny or make a stab, relax or specify...

I’m lost in the new geography.. Again.
Light can be thin, therewith discourse.

I chewed my paw / off.

Terse is
What it (light in volume) is —

Midwinter light (March) in Maine gives me pause.
The sentence, the Celtics lost squawking about losing
Some parts : diagrams the opportunity.

Down east weather was freezing our hands into claws, which is

Why we reserve dopey dissonance

Nested within key notes to the A frame to determine

The performance.

Speaking as if...
Just push the button.
Lament due to Quicken divorce feels precollege. Modalities.

Chafed lips, with you or not, one emphasis is how
your modalities give me the butterflies and more butterflies chasing more — as 10 to the 10th more prefer polygamists barnstorming thru
the ad hoc hemisphere.


One of the donor’s places resembles a Marine outpost with sweeps of property edging the subdued enclave.

Of all the varied and fabulous pieces by new pianists I wager they are bursting with personae — because of what they rock to, also because many exuding confidence have gotten past graduate school, the corporation, a breakthru investment in the company.
Technology’s refined flux appears noncontroversial.
At sundown my leftist French brain speaks thru a balloon:
“If you’re anamorphic, the flux within measures of comprehension 2 often adopts overheated lingo or low-2-overheated if you like.”

The other 2 poked at the remaining balloons in the embers; not really, they said.

There are statements of facts
And those of law. Their truth

Levels rise or fall depending on
Outer linear order.
Renaissance rules, rulers who could expunged a soba color.. 

Something to realize our view

As something else frolicked up — inside 

(a feeling of power like in Roman hands): A ball of a bird, maybe a butterfly
Yeah, what do we care?

All we expect is an elegantly accessible chronicle of interdisciplinary montage
Along with financial services.

Linear standards

“Hey,” “I say” never go away.
It’s a flotilla. (Fair enough..)
His followers could care less.

You can’t catch me is great again.
Multidimensional chess has a new value.
Guess what? This early in the day love / hate lines out. His critics swing at softballs
vibrating w/ a head cold, floating in 4 dimensional moats..

It’s a flotilla.
Witch: Pass the white I think they’re gloves.
In further directions your understanding registered.

Off the rack, but great

— a good to a very good reply

inasmuch as speaking about or to you comes across the border over thin light.


Any emphasis prepares the manifold; earlier accounting systems join the 1st probability of having you to touch & subsequently empower mergers ’n exchange. That’s only half the cost of what’s not said.
A true celeb shows us the assassin is uninvolved on every emotional level — even the one one holds oneself and acts on by serving others, one bosses & ‘ritual’ overvalue.
How is that sketchy? To you?
He had bad manners, bringing in sauerkraut that night —
My report to command centers for first price, best.
(Theft is looking better, tight.)

Your face, the trains I ride, it’s all good to Korean girl groups here in the West.

Like you and most of us, with or without us, they flip out
In only a decimal of what they do.
She lost the election. We can’t know what she’s thinking. It’s crazed.

Keep tact abstract.
Keep it to oneself near the seacoast.
Healing a voice split to a pulp, gnawed —
Feeling a salt chill unexpectedly going up the swirling lines
Of humorists, ideologues, ragged modernists, including one.

Holding to their path, rescuing none.

Yours, & ‘even more in mayhem,’
Let’s put this less sophomorically.
Basically existence precedes essence asleep on the leaf. Mostly.
Anyhow, I was a dead man once. It started with a record deal.

Bev, brief them. Here on the mere murmur I clam up.

Can it be “quoted” in any meaningful sense?

When you select a rogue anime you also begin talking to yourself (above); you try walking from a sofa or chair, to a nearby window, to a doorway checking if anyone is coming in..
First question, true or false. Technology keeps humming to Aristotelian extremes? The cigar had its store. It’s a manageable stretch from there to when you left, even while I ruled you out. Out on the sidewalk you hadn’t left a name, either. And yet, I stood close to you, always wrong. To leverage and grow are businessspeak. To get feedback. To understand.


Fricative efforts add a bunch of O’s
— language & body mania, aqua ions show their molecules in bulk, imitating an obsessive personality. The rapid strength of bonds between metal & water molecules is their primary dissolution.

Repeating prose clips transit through a few (of those) loopholes to confront loopholes’ necessities, maybe.
Reversed circumstances are a full meal.
Ordered onward
Most of cable is sleep-laden,
Killer directors bail out the last decades. With peril, tears, deals.
Not quite a theory, it’s string conjecture (over eons).
Watching it work costs constellations of cash or a bundle minus heroic practice, often.
For you.
I unbuttoned my supplies and pulled the first ‘haiku’ out —

One’s self image goes beyond Masonic pale.
Pale of an airedale.
Intimation, insinuation, innuendo.
You were something I ate.
Errant is not mistaken for arbitrary.
In a way paisley just feels like games..
2 spiral arrays for time & harmony within a philosophy (moving spatial dimensions)
a few hours forward.

Paisley’s inference, compressed form, a ‘crown’ of contradictions
veer dimensional rhetoric
superseding nature. Cosmos, not not unhappy.
Can waving time like a moony branch
supersede nature,
a piece of research asks. Why open
atoms under quivers at the edge to sleep?


I’m thinking of a color — no name.. an antsy-ness
running everywhere that’s off — waiting for a big thanks

                                                there was nothing and then a voice —
                                                goes upstairs and locks the door.

                        A voice with cavities.
Dear foundationalist,
You’re expelled for a month, next week.. experimenting with yourself..
leaving a sneezing grid with rectangular doors opening to violent sprinkles & irresolution...
..in passing, I would like to see or set up dozens of availabilities to pick up the dissolved thread to ‘our systems metaphysics’ and to pick up that needle of yours & your as it were point.

From here, we drive thru parched hills seen in films.

Another hay fever phase of experiment.
In a mean (2017) perspective Bartok reached for
the moon. How is that helpful?
With your brand one constant, you cut the rest off,

It brought down the red curtain, with a curtain rod staff.

Having it, you hobble

Away like a name dropper.

Emotions were they don’t belong.
Blues by Corelli.
Visual poem: The brightest stars pimp their leftovers for attention.
Beyond Orwell.
Down curved and inside edged, camo colors hard to pick up.

Follow their instructions { slippers, noodles, make us warm
‘As rouged scholars from what’s next to us’ repair to an adjoining display. }

We note their pale sagas of looking good and being seen.
Zero pleas fractured in durational maneuvers, complaints and sworn declarations —
I forget meeting you.


We said nothing about ancestors sitting meditation, why?
Their focus, cash on hand were immediate, overwhelming, no gloom:

Very different outcomes that equally square
What you hear. The future of the past written
Like ellipses’ symbolism weighing in (..)

Based on trying to get to the gym, having an olive svelte
Protein shake, saying nothing about ..

Oh — I just remembered some of what they’d sung
To the battlefront. (Mostly gigues.)
We meet in this version north of the town offices

shaking tidal vapor thru no wait, no

fewer than ten seconds off the slopes

meaning above the steps coincided with the light

clipped to the powder base patching the thaw

— spirals discharged, wind heats the ground and trees open.

My best fiend is a vital prick. Ow
afterward, he and I leave the tribe and enter first grade...

We got in surrendering our fingerprints

humming to each making a windfall. We

toast anyone else holding a red suit

w/in one’s center, letting a fortnight slide.
In a mean (2017) perspective Bartok reached for
the moon. How is that helpful?
With your brand one constant, you cut the rest off.

It brought down the red curtain, with a curtain rod staff.

Having it, you hobble

Away like a name dropper.

Emotions were they don’t belong.
Blues by Corelli.
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, immune to desire & intimacy in the grips of mistaken identity. I’ll lead you to the border. Just call before you go.


You take this as it comes, here and now.
Text sections like acts of omission are presorted.
In one act by ourselves, we’ll set up a non-profit,
the equivalent of an education cafeteria.

I’ll be chancellor of the swelling enterprise
dividing my feelings like vendettas.
Where are we un, um?
You’ve stopped being in the world.

There is a moment after when you shift your eyes since they’re crisscrossed and long after you forget how we went on the verge, drenched though slackened... shaking this neap vapor through atmospherics, patching the thaw — spirals discharged, wind heats the ground and trees open.
Attraction is ignited by deep compatibility,
a nonaristocratic game played for low stakes.

I’m not a prose-poet, this is reportage
and what I believe. A good guess is a hypothesis.
A good education leads to the Grand Hotel
above the empty lot cleared by Balthus.
Dirge for D.A. Levy:
Our leaders and propagandists know very well that liberal capitalism is an inegalitarian regime, unjust, and unacceptable for the vast majority of humanity.

Grandeur is a luxurious quest and metaphysical evil.

I’m not a model, I just look like one. (Helen Vendler)

We’re the only nation that flies into hurricanes.
The way topics switch is also relaxing, to some. Once every few consonants, keeper shows a lovelier and airier side, rising above the backdrop whine and pose, dispersing all noise and letting in a strongarm patterson and heinz fullerton, enforcing an impression that you’re being taken up on an elevator.


Aries, my god, a pro without pouring it on
très available, mobile, open to your whims...

A surfer for decades, black eyes, brown-
To-blond hair —

he slaps you with his fettle, replacing poetry..
he lightens up but it’s — you guys!

Can you describe yourself?
Simple stuff picking up a pen.

A photograph?
Whoa — please — take my foot!
Thing 1: Most adherents develop synthetic self-containment to face future life. It’s in Thing 2, natural selection gradually refuses to settle in opposing views. For example, what, exactly, did we learn? Never allow creatures of nature into your discourse. You need to leverage those freaks onboard to move ahead. Year after year we heal them ourselves, each cell in our bodies spinning starboard. Cells are factories, at bottom; we are factory owners. One says the seas of government are misinformed. One says what another says which is not new now, never. We are natural organisms running out of time.
My boss sucks.
That’s because she has to. Some job titles are, as the expression goes, anathemas. Disquiet raising the roof. Boss, leader, principal, chair, honcho, prexy, director, officer in charge, master chef, head of the shift, muse. What does it take to earn and maintain these titles? Ideology. Casting spells. Constantly interviewing me as I do with every other employee, affiliate, colleague, member, collaborator, associate sans souci. Muse first!
Can we straddle the divide between convention, unattenuated sense-making & sorting through out-of-brainier experiment?
Every Harvey Keitel film substantiates you may have a gun, you could be reaching to get a gun, or you could just be, in essence, fronting.
(Cartoons are not analysis.)
Space is not nothing.


Living under D Trump,
I’ll start with a clear head — you can look thru this one
and we’ll shoot bullet points until it’s drained.

Again it’s that one time in career design
to keep finding your identity on top.
The more you do
it’s a retro look for you / I may now never attain.

This is my deciding moment. As a consequence doors open. I’m auto-electrocuted.

And that’s good, because I snuck across the catalysts. (It’s what I’m good at, wearing pajamas as weapons.)
My plan thus converts to the meantime. So you detect I’m pretending to be a spontaneous asshole, intimidating death.
The playbill is the same, drumming and decisive. Fat lips, usually wet. Brainy syncopation to a turn.

(It needs me.) It’s a lovely trade.

Couples are not the perk here.
They’re not that easy.
Heaven is abstract in the heart with its egg drop of credos, from which large scale dull instruments are tossed.
The narrative arc remakes itself elusive
matter / often we come through in polite forms like holes of the
universe, throwing out samples on Earth ..
Hand-me-downs like us are not deconstruction.

So this is a cut. For a moment I stared at the door. Seconds later I was reconnected.

How was it to score the soundtrack for a sequel not put into treatments much less made? You and other investors must get offended?
There’s nothing linear going on. Everyone knows that.
Unless you want to.


Been reading about accelerating destruction in the Amazon. A chunk the size of Rhode Island burnt down each year. This buckaroo practice results in rich farmland that’s productive for about four or five years. After that, the soil turns into dust and sand.
Carports for the farmers, then, are an interim step. Dust when it rains becomes haze and steam the color of moist illusion, bubble-like.
You were in the settlement.
We were sitting there, and
I made a joke about it.. how
it doesn’t dovetail: time,
one minute running out

faster than some other time in front
it catches up to.
That way, I said,
there can be no waste.
Waste is virtually in the settlement.

To come back for a few hours to
the present subject, a painting,
looking like it was being seen, half-
turned around, slightly moist, reading us.
We met at a fashion party, possibilities in extremes.
A couple of days reveling in delirium, haunting grimness. Breaking the ice.
That carport could be the fucking beachhead steaming for real, along with amalgamated events that are summarized best, perhaps, in this question I’ve been asking myself?
Doctors approved the utility of lingerie,
throwing us a softball, a good idea until there’s
another focus.

Sex toys are a good idea; until
I went broke I was indebted
to them.

In one direction the focus
is lost. It’s scary (testy
at first, blasé and bored)

yet there are comic possibilities
as dreams seem to
be saying. Another focus
is adolescence. We power

our own, mounting a bait
and switch to chalk up the board.
One feels like an editor / coach in a new bloodbath of witty planning.
Do as wits imply.
Smarts don’t matter. They’re laying themselves off.


Start loud. Like this is Stu, the last emperor. Come back.
I’m taking notes, a fan of halfway intimacy.
There you go, star spiritualist.
Let’s cobble together fill in the blank.
Getting ahead of the message. Food, gas, lodging.
My cohort flock to benefits.
(Plural, right.) Dad puppets look at me and shrug.

They go to Google and it gets to know them thru symbolism

Giving them something beautifully made — they’ll be taken up on their offer.

In a footloose backwash good posture and money go down together.
A colonel-general. What a night. No problem
Erasing the storied narrative,
Baseline coherence that were normal, believable

Then that,

Waking up, hay-feverish, stuffed-up spirit
Standing far off across
Yours, just considering

In the era or epoch of fake announcement..
That’s what I would be making — if I were to talk to you
Even a mote so that waking can go away

To keep from you forever
Nothing, seen forever.
Engaging a nonlinear oddball, we have no issues. Who are we. Who is the oddball. Does the oddball come between us. Probably.

Rare flutes in drizzle
shining from sight:
The canyons lift, lukewarm and seaweed soft. The Colorado splish.
Splash. Future purchases are burning up.
Why was Obamacare designed to fail? Thank you from 2017 to Joseph Lieberman, 2009. As a ‘matter of conscience’ he justified blocking a Senate vote on health care and insurance reforms.

Take politics down to its roots, kindling held in a quiet box on a cellar shelf.


We hardy knew Dionysius.

A flesh-eating virus attacked, aged him. We never forget and we do not forgive. Even tho we’re too fat to have insurance, our moms were always supportive. Viruses bring this on. The wind too. Boo is emphatic. Shivers of a sigh, I made messes all over the nestling ground to suit a creative purpose.

At least I have my integrity.
Let’s feed the appetite that picks up from nature “to express things ... as they are when one sees them without remembering having looked at them.” Committed to formal blocking in stagecraft, maintaining an indomitable temperament, your seniority evaporates as a textual refuge where nature, our last line, can draw attention as an ironic condition, a peripheral attraction.

To be objective and lack will.

An incident unveiled as ambition.

A dharma of the windmill against power to
reënter the Style You’re Sick Of.
What are meta-resonators for but to effect command over and about stuff we’re uncertain or we don’t want to get that serious about / over? There’s nothing but an eyeblush of this over and about on the day it seems a desperate measure, and in reckless hands.

Feeling a depth charge covering your lips with un-despairing I can’t contain.
Language is spoken better where it’s taught. While you’re at it
sing out and fudge your correspondence. Then get off your resonance
and offer joint ventures in which you promote your events!
Professor, this ballad of how especially the ivory tower is under entrepreneurial influence
— it’s a hair shy of failure as a tune or concession

 to breaching ergonomics — all of it.
You know — maybe it’s more than me,

Things, myself, lots to hide

And cannot or not, and I’m me too


You’re turning me on.

There’s an interlude for doing anything after work. Smiling,
“Take notes,” you said. You were speaking of love as you forced mine
from the inside.

I miss the walled city where you looked up when we reached this
step. Try to remain calm. I’m going to talk you down.

We’ll be riding through a labyrinth of people movers. Not much is known about them. (Ok,
you there? Bye.) We’ll take the stairs, because the elevators refuse to go down
with people in them.
I cannot stress enough
we’re suspicious of wormholes, tho

I never use tone shifting during a blizzard.
The boat’s cortex held out. Together.

For what party in sleep?
The colors had been of Q-tips & smoke. I could pick you up, take a day off
                  from where everyone is

standing w/

you — physical & prime from the stress of the rat race

                 & security IF

I have ideas to play w/ in the pluperfect...

& someone else I can be.. w/ / w/out you.

Really, we get down to realty
In a bucket? Filled with cash bags! I can see some pulleys ..

A smoking outline that subdues us
edging our blond manes that distract scoutmasters.

Everyone has to wipe off while, boo,
you’re impersonating a folk guitarist I outgrew,

So now you want to spend it all while you can,
floating to eke out an ornate living
In a snow-globe, thankful for one small chest-hair.
And there I’ll leave it top of the scout manual ...

Monkeys are ironic. They can’t help it.


All this repetition is an interdiscipline ahead of patterned, glimmering haze surrounding powerful men, dating converts; you know, the level of glamorous self regard here is high, gnarly. If all we do is seduce and note conquests, we’re counterpoints. We lose austere joys, cloud dogma, sculpture perpetrated out of the wiry, scentless comfort, breathing in spring is coming over the skies. Scentless discomfort, too.
Speaking as minimum payment, you’re my business.
“I heard talent, beauty, money come by their own right; by your putting them to the test they take ‘full effect’

— “when you recall Lacan (a lust bucket) read Lacan from the start, it seems mathematical to think about both of us favorably, tho programmers have fierce redesigns for our self-abasement.”

So this was a manageable edit. “That’s as close as they have to our pulse.”

That’s what it reads over one entrance. To pull it together, total anonymity makes the inside disappear and what’s left — you and I can go right in.
The cosmos in Part 2 is unwilling to go far, this way or that, a plywood-and-particulates object flying in time where light is produced by nonstop heat.
Let me grab my pen and clamber over to the iconic network... you’re right.. this isn’t the mammoth book club for me! Before everything expires we’ll try praying in all directions and improve math skills for our subscribers’ sexual satisfaction... as your whole throat pivots from joking around to a ringing of attention-grabbing hysteria.
The cosmos in Part 1 is unexplained.

In the mental part, covert specialists use tightly wound differences in expression to gain advantage for incriminating thoughts. Their goal is to march with humanists halfway — paternalism indulged through wisecracks; but most others, wayward humanists, we render as divas, idiots in the minority and they take the bullets; why?
I use bigger words than you,
The spring towers, the moon in autumn —


I might happily have lived in another state
Standing in neoplatonic darkness. A white bike
To follow any path out /

A green thumb trying to paint and cover
Dabs of marine titanium that oscillates
Blurring the root truth for up to an hour —

Inky smoke releasing a genocidal collage of screens, like
Thinking in waves agitated, reproached, disappeared
In drumming opinions and worst practices —

so that service requested goes off the board.
We never talk about words until it hurts. What a general restatement! as we work around functional emotions & this much-traveled rehab of affects.

Hooray.. There’s a hint of falsetto. Shields up. I just missed the last place you look. Stay with me. Never stop exploring. Turn here.
This is the islet I was going to take you to; it lifts, lukewarm, tender. Splash. Preaching to the tenor choir, I love what we do together.
The carbon steel of all day never dimmed
Second after blasted second.
If you don’t look directly my way, into my face —
I can’t give it to you.
At fight camp you wear wet marks under your shirt — there you go — sent,
Slotted for long scream divisions raising heads and
Lines of argument stampede out bourn in heartbeats .. bright debate
Drawing boundaries along dark areas of youthful propaganda. And ..
.. owing to your interest, this won’t constitute a date.
Or only one of many as noted by spreading the plan.
In vain a head transplant brings on the knowledge affect where cloud equivalents prosper on a narrow isthmus, watching the seasons float in willpower.


Weight loss by design. Classification = evolutionary collisions =
Their work multiplied by adapted preferences in a judiciary vapor.
You think transparent rhetoric all-purpose, all calm, never resolved,
Because you’re only one sailor and one swab

In a climate of drumming opinions and best practices —
Your bacchanalia are talked up while slotted in —

Sailor tattooed with an addiction to visceral consequence — swab
Reigning over Proustian project boards, cost curves, sailor.
Post-cogency, you still doing that? That’s what’s oblong about sadness,
the real overhead. Lost time, money. A sky of ice cubes for what party in sleep? I'll
take sherry Pepsi. And just the sardines.
The cat owner in me is unknown to me,
permeates me. Consequences...

Lost time is sawed off and doing better.

A heedless apparatchik, I came to my critical senses, after (to strum the alert).
Modulating the self raises the stakes
according to types of daring.

Don’t smolder, show us
a simple skill.

This is god’s country. I don’t know why it’s not winning.
Kites: pinky juicy crisp
Space parlance —

The language predates motto handicraft and canned vibration
Slithery waxed down toward our bumbled abstentions.

Life is better, a few times
Looking broke with pencil marks across gessoed

Pearls — trance police, a hex video
On top various un-invented heights.
Secretary of defense weeps over a condolence note...

No one writes like this, totally cool — it’s wonderful.


1/2 crumpet
charges the total. No I’m kidding.

The breed you’re acquiring fakes you out big time —
large stairwells mesh yet go nowhere —
between you and expulsion, a gaping hole. A ‘nervous’ tic.

There’s efficacy in speaking clearly, gesturing, knitting your brow now
— one enzyme waking up isolated, it seems
slinky. I watched it and it spayed me.
Here’s another invidious comparison. Confucian poetry, unlike most of ours, deliberately chooses lexical anchors that can be rapidly translated to other languages (and cultures). This appears limiting since the deliberation is a constraint, for most of us. Nonetheless, the strategy presumes no hip readership to follow the broadly universal meanings. (Historically the cool presumption is encapsuled by the universal — coolness segregated within the hegemonic radius over the long run, clocking in with a short (2, 1, close to minus and counting) shelf life for the art product and reception. The surface warrant to the comparison, perhaps: Overspecification evolves into ‘period’ quaintness.
Back in the day when the fair-minded had complex appetites,
when pragma-morphism brainstormed about innocence

— in the larger context there was no recidivism to fashion.
About innocence is a meta proposition
Dante nibbled, in mumbled tones... under a huge, ampersand-shade of grace.

There was a terrific wine list — and that made for
cocktail perfusions. He had at strangers shedding their catwalk ambiguity.

And we’re moving back to then, wearing only raiment emotions, passing drinks around —

That’s not just a cherished, blame-the-victimy idea pushed into the text to make it current.
The current is baroque with — and about — democracy.
Let’s compost for a mo.

The crisis is now. Form is not an
object but activity, explosions
funneling a non-hegemonic pulsation — and due to substitution
Gustave Flaubert haunts this

beside your double vanity, while keeping fit ...
On the run, playing with tonalities, how funny you are..
There are bass chords you kept inside.
Between descriptions, silence a periphery.

No way to describe — much less rhyme — hiding on the loose.

Hiding loosely?

Arriviste chords loose in the air wonder how high an apartment we can get.


Ratty chain coffee; hideous poems. Bloated officials;
hideous poems. Restless sixty-year-olds; retread malware;
pedigreed art; hideous poems. Untaxed elites; hideous
poems. Safe sex; relaxed midcentury decor; hideous poems.
Open-necked business attire; democracy in dance; satire of the informed; hideous poems.
Entertainment business models; Kean dynasty; hideous poems. Fact into
fiction; hideous poems. Vice versa.

Blatantly careless, docile or not, seems the new daring..
I have no idea it was handed to me..
The deliberate downgrading of the presidency
More than fair warning —
We should see an immaculate, engaged shake of the hand
To thank the audience, the body electorate,
So we learn that or relearn it.

Off rhyme (edges ratcheted) feels less difficult if we arbitrate our convictions.
I’m your doorsill to walk on and lick in anguish..

In the sink: we look fabulous, encaustic. Then a chanteuse
draws close, under scrutiny from your upcoming voice-over!

But that’ll be when as a suite we begin over
Like twins again in a trance once, just this once.
I won’t cry with no message.
How long have you planted thoughts with no god? You lucky bastard.

Over the architecture construction advances.
Uncivil and abstruse, the building advances over the construction.
Everybody chips in
.. inevitably constructivist and supremacist impulses are joined.
.. always balancing art-historical concerns with the sexual depravities of your adored.
Up with proportionality, small and large together. Also — don’t know why — stately is exciting when you’re the star architect for an entire emirate.
The guys with magic marker eyes who paid for this were enamored of throwing off
articulate signatures —
But everything was your idea
reaching back where it whirrs & sings..


Later, you do dangle like squalid balances netting zero,
a big net zero from demeaning upper ends and
capital variables w/ finish.
That’s everything, a verb, noun phrase, enclosed ..
The sky squeaks now w/ common sense, folds into dreams.

The prose poem has changed due to English.
Hi cute girl in black hat that works here.

Videos are melding mind media. / The early ones are w/out turning
words. Un-wending, they stunk.

Who is as individual as the 1st film on a curly blade of grass to assess the new spring?
A friendly caveat for the melder,

your ‘work-arounds’ bully sarcasm to un-wit ways and means to spiraling.
Guess what, air has a square shape, un-bolted down in sections like rattles spinning
for interpretation. Our values put up with this, putting us first
breathing hard, leaving doors open to irresolution,
to make availabilities for picking up the dissolved thread.

Once you really had us. I was choked up by your running out almost in a sidle. I told you we agreed a little but not a lot. The plotting — lackluster, suspended now — I hope you’re coming back for one thing, us.
Blimey. (There’s a new policy to block deletions.)
I’m sipping Tropicana on curiosity’s behalf,
It’s close to a curio.. writing in sheer Lucida Sans
All the time, staggering!
Tomorrow I’ll tap out “My regrets,” switching phones.
This is tomorrow before the cart.
The vapor’s spoken portrait is all for it, both arms...
You’re welcome, March-April. Plugged, tall, slim.


Quiet desperation, the flip side of formalism — the in-yr-face improvisers hold our attention. [‘We’ = a match in perseverance.] Hannah Weiner is perhaps our most performative, slightly algebraic example. The young John Wieners (and I’d stress the elder as much or more). There are texts and opuses that look unplanned and freely improvised. Can algorithms be improvised? The human names are familiar. O’Hara, Ceravolo, stretches of Notley, Mayer. Sometimes Spicer, sometimes not. The wildness of not knowing where each is taking us would be a common satisfaction. Today’s practice comprises the layering of plans and improvisation; post-Coleman we speak openly of fake jazz and look for positive results. Similarly, the fake improv of atomized procedures — to point to a solid phenomenon — allows for a number of false questions — Can algorithms be improvised? — along the way to sketching a counter addendum (nachträglich) between plan, no plan, a bicameral entry to inquiry about where writer and the writing are going.

Pastoral you and all it initiates take humane power in socialist space. It’s rare.

Home base, hierarchal Finland: say it’s working through the population.
We’re the entire crew. The socialist’s way.
Two smoky dogs tracking boots in drizzle, shining from sight, playing by stacks of storm windows in restless composure translators can’t reach.
Crime: The big picture shows me my modest place.
I’m technically adept dining in (or out).

From childhood, a few took umbrage from grumpy distortion,
fractured logic (Hex 39) and their own morbidity. While you —

You picked up the check. That enlightened instant swells, we’re looting prestige,
the nether handle to misapplied figures, images,
exactly what the cradle requests; the place rocks.
“There’s no intro. Descriptors peel away.

For each flight different comments are earned,” the old monograph continued,
“Take an idea that interests them or you, spend a few days researching,
protecting it, perhaps, with no outreach, no descending into light talk, either.”

You’re setting the pattern within dual representation,

getting some miles in, taking them on board, putting them in mind, say, of a future mono realism. Ethical precaution. Much untold on both sides.
Not mad, apeshit, the bumblebee shoots for the exit to the coast
hitting the surf in lithe shorthand (if we were to trace it) coupled with fast
puffiness and a black-to-yellow color of sane amalgamation.


I’m always explaining the place where I work.
Gateau what’s his name is done (delivered) in a tangle of foxglove as you and I de-meadow.

A company like ours takes it into the physics facility.

We’re in the flat present tense, account outlines in simultaneous perceptions
Reciting new slang exponents, since we have no major gay issues,
Making wave sounds while we scout flyweights in a recursive landscape.
Stutterers stutter trying not to
looking to ruses with adaptability in thorny circumstance,
unable to help us play a single practical
joke — I hadn’t spoken to you for months
of a construction zone perforated by mirrors, swindles..
directing procedural lunges toward more pranks.

It’s hard for me to take credit
..I’m a floater of cynicism on any topic I redact.
My job is moving the earth units until I get exonerated.
It could be evasion foregrounds style and motives.

Let’s conquer death with abundance.
It’s a woodpecker.

And I have a woodpecker tone.
Notes from Pluto the Pup —
Step Three (if needed). I set up a sunflower hypothesis filled with small
word masses, and I put these in motion inside a ‘parallel chamber.’

Step Four (I’m really stuck if I get to here). I try some other puppy
experiments in a celebrity void, which I fill with farouche words that
give off magnetic properties, ‘canal rays’ (like from Mars!) and
semantic discharges, all of which I clump together into rare syntax sets.
Until one went broke we were indebted,
on an errand stream to earn a structualist’s degree on borrowed time, a serener surface.
Now an international scale opposes the light in my body. It’s scary loud at first,

yet there are comic possibilities while we sleep the tide appears to notarize something.


Snow in the air lists a mood.. replaced as the driveway meets..
you’re still wearing your headset.
Such Gothic dislocations expected off to the gym (site), Mr.
Is it documentary or documentary fiction?

The air inevitability around your code thru which you speak is shattered.
It can be inauthentic but not in a first mustache sense.

You and I kiss that air. This.
Brrrr. I hate this climate.
I would never rat on you just to
threaten to force you to wear thinner tights...

“A poem with fewer pictures looks better” tho we may have expected more

modest an overcast from the past touched by the future.
This is all we could follow.

Our director drew the curtains revealing the open street
where passers-by are in her play and work.
One has yet learnt it’s scripted.

Fleuristes knock heads tied together in indigo. 

Her direction projects dirge and melody casting shadows
over our absence in the periphery out back.
Ode to March: Pierre Bourdieu throws a projectile — “Magnified preferences [‘tastes’] of
capital distribution are stopgaps like assembled heterodoxology while
subdominant esthetic fields balloon and get consumed by baggier ideas.”

Bourdieu gets home to his Cajun kitchen, much later, and hears if
it’s a voice in his head. “We gain as much knowledge from our shortcomings
as insights.” Well, ah! The shortcoming between having things to say here
— and now, while checks and balances are nasally inspissated thru fear.

I sleep over on a cul de sac at a dead end,
feeling rage as my real estate..


It was a sober intro
A branch could be a sentence generally. There’s urgency in ideas et cetera.

I live in a debt growing compound and how

you know how

you get — suggesting I lend you some?

I put my finger on: Not really, she said out

ahead of how I was supposed to know.

I’m addicted to ideas.

This was my first time.
A sparrow close by, a dedicated follower, packing a double voice range, love trouble, last blinded by the shore tonight, this evening of the seals. Two old seals suddenly lift in a renown wave, the same in each. Humming back, large as the beach staring at the first light.
Alfred Brendel: Truth is we’re feathery.

Shorthand abstractions

like these unforgettable elements to touching and holding the moment,
surrounding it with illusions of taking off for the unknown, spinning or spun,
upset, out of control yet

that’s how we fasten the starry messenger to move around objects.
Jay stayed and worked with the new ones coming in,
who were all “Could you be a little more specific, doctor?”

(If you or I put off how ambivalent Jay is we’d miss the point.

Otherwise, I give credits for stupid generalizations as
I wouldn't know how to come down on these vital issues.)

Jay stayed and worked no further.
There’s something to mining homilies and off-color
copy, imitating, replicating for the evening drive.

We’ve now passed the second-cousin stage of wretchedness. You’re good
to take it up with the authorities before severing the vines.