To a chapel goer

A warning looms to live on
next season, the most idle of 5.
The fiscal thrill of your sorts.
Your will bending lives.

I never imagined keeping count
but it’s on my list. My list of lists.
To be unmarried
Where the sky went:

There’s a benign debate — where brightness bore in, grateful prenuptials stampede out,

Drawing bonds along dark zones of propaganda.

And owing to your interest... this won’t constitute a holy day, merely a sacrament.
Or only one of many noted by a crowd of flutists aft.
My terms are to settle down through the evening. Your proud examples
Gain longterm advantage spreading the launch. Imprisoning refinement for definitives until.
Get off of those grants, peons.
— Tom Bossert, Homeland Security
(Hold on, I was handed this bag of sentences.)
Keeping one’s posture simple on the corner of statue and utterly out of space,
One is within earshot.

I am still there.
My views are not incompatible with yours.

Only there’s the one I am for whom we fail completely, openly.
Morphology covers all bets. Scars are luxury goods. 
Drapery, French, Italian, English varieties, completes these sentiments. Yet never over stays.  
What’s next? I am a crescent metal, easy to pick up, feed and embrace after climate changes. Before that,  
to find Fra Angelico innocuous you’re as blind and innocent as any promise keeper.   
A stupid promise keeper that housebreaks within almost any sentence ..  
.. that’s a bad idea of particularity. Unlike unemployment among household heads, subsequent foreclosures = the largest causes of forcing children into poverty. Which is a true sentence that feels incomplete.
Come back .. why not!
You and I nonetheless detect a rank trap.
You and I rule no rule can speak up without permission.
This rule grows inner beveled language in dim light —
for average days and pleasure lost on squirts like high security.
Politics is the gene expression omnibus. 
Each of us is one viral video from partisan fame.  
Vanity is promotion.  
Amen to white boats opposing innocence.


Barrett Watten's Frame — “A chain link fence around a vacant lot filled with/ trash. As if a _____ were inside ..// A beam of sunlight refracted by a prism/ makes a display.// Until language is only relation-and we are/ being spoken in a dream.” 
Trash is egghead poetics, here boiled down beneath better trash that has a value P (portent) inside, spoken sotto voce stipulating processed conditions (P) to make up — practice making perfect sleep time.  
Transition Days. Disabused of crayons to create a hint of scalability,  one's first step. Leaking or semi-announcing utopic content, replacing the sleep we witness on escalators.   
Go to the next line.
Hey Siri (British female).
It could be bye.

She spake plainly for a big hearted killer-
Darling. Morning

Reminding me once
Only your own revels meet you halfway, morning blurring promises in
An aftermath of any hiatus, letting your adages cool.
Is this a document or did I make it up?

Another question. Smelling coffee gasses a decimal of
Where should I hurt?

Once and be done.
Dispatched for 
subjects of desire in another sense, an echo  
understanding from Q & A’s in visible  
August light  
and suddenly just theory  
awing in a wolf’s regime,  
There’s brush  
fire aimed at mosquitos — shot  
through the throat, asking too much ..
The move your ass comment — I meant smell the juniper within a philosophy (moving spatial dimensions)
& (look inside!) a few hours forward!


116: Someone’s missing. Cabs are scarce at this hour I guess. No? 
I’m in no hurry. No alterations. 
There are three pleasure substitutes. Here’s one, an itch to have at your consciousness. The tide stands in rain.   
A frayed weather pattern is second and last, I admit the context’s normative, blushing with its lil song of guts and neurons no man ever loved — 
After Side A deflections accrue. There’s the animal that needs you.  
I’m expecting something.  
I’m Aldo.  
No, y,ou are.
I’m nimbus-wet. Dark edges must be why
Two very different outcomes equally square
What you hear w/ the you you wear, the you you are.

I stake your reputation, touting
You still & kiss & lap up the air in your 1st mustache sense.
I’m earning a doctorate in time studies.
A blank verse opera.
I keep my mouth shut & listen,
Escalating with all my parts to inhabit received logic.
I’m retracing what I think I see, I’m
For concentrating on song colors, naming obvious finds,

Pushing the most obvious among broken parts,
The self-defiant.

My cologne is — or my drink is — Siesta
Leaving me in states of redefinition...
North American atheism as a quad of hope 
we never come across et tu a parabola intersects,  
a pedigree. Burroughs’ gestures are precise. Bright monied eyes.  
Sins tell the story. 
Sparkling motifs climb down  
— there’s a new quad-underground  
— we — some of us — avoid it. Beauty’s veil. Hardly objective,   
but a big badge realignment is authentic now,  
hyper-rufflers juxtaposed by an advanced sport.  
So let’s start with comfortable rectangular lascivious shapes, 
“And all things turn to fair that eyes
can see!”
A poetry of slogans earns ownership awards.. 
Folk-maverick with a dark scrum.  
Adolescent, a heavenly advantage..  
You keep telling lies with the upper hand over hosts in abstraction.
What comes of the heart’s marquetry? Ruined choirs late the sweet birds sang
A clay-toned physique returns to leave before long
Stronger in reverse fire against the cold.


To deflate without constricting the ego, an artifact that seems research-based, chock full o’smitten insinuations weighed toward every day.. What’s relational? You have to guess. I stuck in a little yoga.
This sentence’s one constant is

a computer lies naked on my chest.
Dibs on any heat, clammy & pink

on the brink of aspects vanished in air.

Macbook ‘aspects’ conquering the molluscs, our

memory of the moment lost

more to desires, a hill that’s not

a hill, a gaze upon the sun leading to a word

that’s not a sentence.
We’re released into the water supply. Globe-trotters. Kissers, both cheeks. In the heights curls are back. Bells in heaven. My eyebrow arched and I gasped.
In architect years this is an old crisis, fallen and liberated by the carpentry of reading sensory input as the doctor’s tongue worked in circles. Then he darted in. I realized tension was flying from my face, dull and throbbing.
Louisiana: East of Eden: That time of year with smarter definition. 
How’s that if your electricity is out and your phone’s no good? 
We needed smarter drywall too, to excite the twilight in the west, 
ferns and moss growing other side after sunset, every-  
thing about the yield blowing in its whereabouts  
news that seals up all the rest 
of perpetual unitary joy...  
It must expire. 
I liked getting you to this point nourished by discovery. 
You applied for pharmaceutical assistance, an oscillation gelatin called
Sparkling Affront. Nothing more or less than forgetting
our place in the secret order of failure. We
left a lavish record of a male-female hush-hush from hand to fingers
to mouth: in epic hock to our hips.

You’ll earn points.

Our temperature raises the magnitude of repetitions
into a shriveled median in the after-life or its meandering
It’s not the phone.
It’s the teak wind chimes.


Photons rebuild the world, leaping out of windows
Moving in our direction with startling humility and alacrity..

Here I am as genealogies of specialists file off.
Rebuilding requires verbs tied to esthetics that numb.

I’m the underdog here, emotionally maligned, an amalgam channel
-ing of normality, sleep, hope that bear repeating.
Photons. Can we turn to steel?
With our 1st stab at socialism technology kept humming to Aristotelian extremes. The cigar with its plantations. A manageable stretch from there to when you left, even while I ruled out the 90 yards between us.

You hadn’t left a name, either. But I stood closer, on your side, always wrong. And I should know. I had to know. It came pouring out, dazzling the lighting thereof and beyond, moving forward filling empty business speak around the table.

A simple interim for you, pushing up and out.
Like Molière, I was born with a Euro-face. After success as a child, I interpreted these looks in two layers of sleep relief, speaking for us both.

Alien favors percolate if you diet and exercise while budding relationships are frontiers. We want a space made up of excellence in the air between unruly manes and confabs with bookies (publishers). We’ll keep a moth-hole sweatsuit or two as foils to untried financial identities.
We’re in no hurry

Staring at the sun? ..expecting something.
There’s no good time to get sun, that’s a tragedy.
Right about here we want clarity on motives, the delivery seems un/pinched..
slightly ..a chance of showers, now, in a long silence we mosey on;

Standing in rain assumes we are scattered. Next the sun is shining, nipping, filing matter, spinning, capturing the dress casual of our meaning it but keeping it / adding it up in double overtime to end over time.
They call panelists flummoxers amid the full time wash of copters.
A talk show with no host,
limited open-ended discussion.


O ouch.
I’m not sorry. You’re available to anyone.

This is my first try in three dimensions.

There were more debris balls thrown so we ordered an atemporal zone of grace
— w/ the emancipatory normality of curiosity, kindhearted proof —
Set it to limitless, w/ its winners & losers, one of you for me.
— 4 plastic badges for now and pa-

Per sacks. Imitation spinner features, it’s
Just theres the royal we (a pain) in game theory to pla 
Y. This may be an insight
Bringing us closer to following your advice.
Now you’re giving me the finger. Technically. we’re not there yet.

I do declare.
I hear Carol Breakdown is hard to get. Hard to take.

Takes substance and breadth — not at this end; 
the going price is any / all of your audacious desire 
(your eyes = my knowledge, may I)? Reversed decisions rotating surf, mercurial quanta 
Shift, soft, whispered — Breakdown could occur. You’ll want circles and circuits redressing 
The boat’s cortex / constant attention to holding out to 
Say when. Pulse, how did you say when? There’s a form of learning .. 
A level of breathing and telling tell together, thrive.
Trump has depleted America’s reservoir of irony ..
(for those over 30 and younger)
Antarctic decor:
I lost my nonfaith underground,
I should be writing this down.
I try not to be thoughtful.
Duly of course not sounded —
I’m writing for one reason, to sound an alarm (like a big panic light),
the rust about to be torn down, the danger of rising temperatures; they did —
Side streets extend to available weather, to the power grid;
Razed, rain’s over, its light flow an oily example.
I can’t make it. We’re staying in.
We can’t always gather this way but we do.
New wilderness tracing a wistful landscape, hum-vacuumed, cuddling escalations in body movement, ledgers of age. The brilliant live on in one mis-phrase, a word, and they always have, fudging abasement in a clean confinement serving a purpose within supernumerary states of being (confined). 


A nutcase with an exploding cigar spins around saying, I’ve been watching you. I spent decades as a stealth pathologist performing autopsies on ‘live people.’ My relationships are mostly strung out on sofa sectionals of pulverized dots —
He tells me I know this place better than my own bedroom, seeing he knows what I mean.
I’m between hopeless and rebuking evolution. That’s boy talk.
Hemi or semi —
orphaned like Francesca as-is...
Make-glad scene-makers or martial artists, music critics, or proud old squares
(whatever you want) barnstorming swift-footed through the biosphere to eclipse career obstacles.

A 2nd Josh placed the sardine just so on Francesca’s bread, and continued work on his, many of the same images back in his mind (Largo di Bracciani), at the start where his rich quote-end-quote mother left him in the care of whiners in a sorry season of wretchedness.
Failures in love fell behind, heinous, antique, never in 2 places enough needing permission, shuttered, untainted & bleak, drear, just dumb. 
Translations = ‘live serious & young.’ 
‘articles have been written on the topic of’ = ‘long-lived, still this croaks’ ; 
‘snow falling backwards’ = Ack! s’up(?) / course untainted ; 
‘the world of secrets is its own’ = pattern to succeeding circumstance. 
If I could write... The 10 impulses exist in an age to come. Come or tomb? Faces, lies.

Stevens would have lies cut off stubs stretched down in the landscape..
I do not think from a scorned point of view. By design we open our front door and see what politics didn’t do. The shortest path ignited by havoc, honest and exhausted people. From it’s-not-the-same-now to the science of celebration — their betrayal is addictive, seamless abandon.

That insight gives one the strength to make oneself at home, stay there, yours alive ameliorating. One no longer feels naked, no gaps or overlaps in one’s silence yellowing with age; all one commands is weeping, glowing back and forth mistily across an immense daze, half of it waxing with the plump tesselation adorned along mortal circumstance.
1. Looking back I think commuter bike paths tamper with green space,
setting up shelves of planning a woman’s face.

2. I soon forgot the meaning of not acquainted.
Coming clean about adulthood (ubi sunt) is a neat precipice.
The surface is music twisting intellectually, in shorthand, gilding the object ..
You and I occupy where we come around the corner from.
Duh duly rounded.

Men’s eyes first created doting.
3. Nice but not binding. That can’t stand for best practice —
not while the restless recover from numbness :

(Their dying to please paid better, pays at once) —
Doing what I am here to do,
Does I can’t be responsible ring a bell?


Bernie Sanders pleaded and had more to express: To vote is a rite of federalism.
Voices in our heads are paranormal. How far is it to the casino? .
There is a civilizing process to space the perfect ceremony .

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?
A hobby becomes the color of dreams, silent addiction, abundance in the heart.
Does it hold the same seasonal affect looking for recompense?
I know what I need, blindfolded.

Concept this.
Your seeingg life is the intervals it contains minus your presence
In your eyes.
Unable to help you play a single practical joke, Adam & Eve hadn’t spoken for months, having found direction and refinement backstage of a ‘construction zone’ perforated by mirrors, swindles, procedural lunges toward more praxes and pranks. You said you had had it. 
And you had. And something else .. 
The one mistake by that boy ...
Here’s a foreboding sensation, a direction to step up and out, keeping one foot on the wing, the other in the fish’s gut...

The history of ideas is full of flying, theories of, science of. What happens is we are shackled at heart so that all our jets head for the spotlight that might have been.. shimmering on a mega-lens...
If you can wake up you should.
The telling problem with engineering simplicity...
You knock over others (just by bringing it up).
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 being a dodo I’m not religious.


Scorched & metallic. Sexual dynamism... it’s a quarterback problem. What used to smoke will come back as an erotic v-neck of lurches lain off dotted lines missing your skin. Have you a next will? can you spare miles of standing?
Just because a bullet slows down doesn’t mean it’s not hard as hot nails. Or because we attribute enduring interaction to personality doesn’t mean I’m not a brute with a hammer in hand. My nailing us together takes no more than a moment from your life.
A minute or more from seemly persuasion
Each year corrupts the ultra-field, tender stream, even rare slang
On the take; that aside, we’ll stick to truly literal cologne and the elder rules. Be funny and
comfortable is one.

The lighter second is also ornamental, 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 their culture, genius, in huge hems?

Last, best, fair in love. I wanted to ask you about immaculate being, rondure and going out. / According to slung
Allegory, it’s called Our Taking Their Place.
Mr Pancake-for-a-Face questions, what’s a pill as a verb?
Dreamily subsisting

Halfway into a looser state, stiffed
Staying loose. The verb cuts you and your lineage off.

Now that’s done; good news tho
Since your mission is to balk then listen,

Not empower blithe and highly egotistical batboy girl men.
Two good words, highly too.
One pleasure then is borrowing sentences
To raise the rent.

Itemizing all bets, a swimming
Plateau = not finding hotter places to write off in.

Dissonant sports metaphors are for gullible allies, hon.
And I’ve had it with my thigh, the one you lift.
Your looks, my books ..

An imperfect actor subverts expectations.

Stage fright shows perfection is error.

To appropriate is to provoke too much rage in absentia, unoriginal, deadpan.

The ephemeral triumphs in socioeconomic decay.

Parody pays homage to white gloves. 
Should we have
a message?
We’re talking to what must
be figurative breakpoints with fate and fate’s consignments. Example:

Just kidding
empty messages remember nothing of detached
sensory esotericists.

Vault-loads of cash tho grant fame and no literal disapproval.
We have a message, Mr Fearsome..
A politic paranoia recommended for staying cruel and stable in an
emotional tri-level.
Make this factualist. 
Make my mind avoid our bohemia.  
Recover the masterpiece.  
Destroy and smooth sailing.  
Imitate killing seeing  
the system.


Beginning to get the picture. Your flash is on the surface.

You taste of star anise ‘launching’ the latest OS in fertility: you wiggle like the borzoi
w/ backsliding wipe-outs & their aftermath:
trash-flashes we tautologize into cattle calls of glugging purity.
At least our calls’re in the area…
‘holding each other open’ ordaining our interpretive devices to
moan to the surface.

There may be many areas, too.
Any higher, they never snicker.
(There’s tighter discipline.
Then it’s said repetitive indiscretion goes too far
& some at mixed levels are more disposed
climbing into casual ritual, putting
their lives together getting & keeping down.)
For all my exes
may a zealous counterculture dart sweetly to life!
Bottoming out, your face is inside a very powerful camouflage (instructing us to use it). Your beauty and years.

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 to break a truth.

Heaven is in the heart with its egg drop of credos and documents, from which large scale dull instruments get tossed. False to me.
Second poem: Someday all this will be yours. Five hundred
City blocks that lean socialist along
An untapped atmosphere of noir swing, slovenly
Housekeeping and altho you steal from me, puckish flair
And snappy dialog
Bearing love’s wrong.
Late amounts, a soundtrack with pulleys, leisure to sing... gazes overlaid
w/ speech you keep delaying. An investment vein to punch
your gravitation into helpless quibbles over commuter water.

Taut shortnesses of thought bubble to suspicions, you’re an emulation of a man
no way limping, standing up without sticking into turf, would you prove

choo! Uccello on his roof car unhinged, bartending! That’s your sound. If you stand
if you speak if you kerchief

are you keeping suspicion warm
to the bridge of your nerve?
Payment doth hence remain. It comes from the Greek for feigned ignorance. 

For broad-shouldered believers 
Who are in this for praise
The ironist wait lists the system. 

Notebook open, wallet shut.


It’s pie 3 months before Thanksgiving.. To set yourself free through what you don’t know — that takes a kind of unfinished aplomb, needing practice and achieved overviews. The verbatim relishes living among a slew of lucky design orphans from an alien vicinity, busted out of place, in the wrong skin and age. 

(Welcome home.)
I’m earning a doctorate over time.
An interpretive opera.
I keep my mouth shut, listen,
Escalating with all my roles to inhabit received logic.
I’m retracing what I think I see, I’m
For concentrating on song colors, unnaming obvious sounds,

Pushing the most obvious among the broken arts,
The self-defiant.

My cologne is Siesta Later
Leaving me in states of redefinition.
There’s a cool but thoroughly staged oral tradition that’s like trail mix, so rhetorically honey-sealed and narratively palatable anyone with a few years of good high school English can have in. It’s clear long jumps and pull-ups in tone signify irony and distance about food prep and galley stainless. The gestalt is to flare up yet relax a while, stay urbanely offhand and sound normal, not superior in any obvious way. I’ve been saving a few hours for you. Do hang on.
We have no boundaries and can go no further even in unendurable weather.

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 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 just to find a formal quality (scanning?). 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
I added frontal motion to those looks that intimidate, m’lord.
Visual surprise comes with an infrequent snow flake or volcano ember
floating at nose level. That’s cool — I’m creamed just for sleeping with you, blackmailed..

wandering into the new wrong theater guild

chopped into little squares of hypnotic drumming

and massive parallel vistas projecting smiles and learning

showing up invisibly. Involuntary. Libido.
Manners of ambiguity?
To buy her lipstick.


A chance at a longer life.
The copy writes itself.
I pulled out a blank check and left it blank.
Nonviolence resolutions have been approved. This is the place for airborne definitions. Here you find remuted meaning, good as gossip to evade a “mixed remuting strategy” to partner with whom, exactly?

O Headwaiters..

I have a steady girl now. I have rage stamped inside. I keep it everywhere inside

everywhere. Coordinates
O rockets to further research.
— O bailiff, be this...
Sung. A first poem.
I had the idea surviving —  
vibrant feelings on a moving day 
washed in over time — (if we need one)  
What do you need now and for what?  

Does it matter, that light and grey question?  
Do you test, tease, defame to get the best?  
I ducked his punch, closed the distance.  
I told him, no, I want to bolt. Add a little piece  
in today’s Times calling Merce Cunningham’s  
choreography Democracy in Action. A refreshing run around  
the clique-minded,  
there are Cunningham’s last figurines / their aptness in transit 
when pragma-morphism brainstorms over noncombatants,  
absent zest vapors make-shifted to pulp —
My muse wants subjects to invent ..
It’s our advantage being excommunicated. 
Being British, it’s not our nature to boast. Fortunately, we don’t have to. 

We’re British.
With every rallentando I feel cleaner, more nondenominational than ever
Now a little drunk I look up at elm crocuses fighting odor, climbing the trunk.
It’s air apparent. I feel cleaner with you. Clearer in noble gas and flux. I do.
Molecules will sue

You — they’ll sue us both for our goals and coral glow —
What a snit! Apart from love I am ashamed now
Breaking up with you feels like getting tested for flu ...
You and I in slow, we hope, radon decay
Torched with prayer.
hypoxia — the poor make us sick, Symptoms of.


We never talk about words until it hurts. What a general restatement!

I can’t win, that’s the meaning of your resentment.

More bounce for the retina to unscrew my hysteria pouring up but embarrassing, rocking like a party, losing both death and life, dropping your rogue’s whip over my heels.
One cause is edged with distant buzz, intervention — you have the touch —
tides by the book rotate out to here, the rim and pliant acreage possessed by that touch.

Emotions in gear, a snake tail in quiet we won’t notice until eased into set phrases, foiled
by moments of tact, awaiting séance.
Adam made 10,000 mistakes — and won’t ‘correlate’ the enormity of it, since evolutionists even now are running back to his bedside to hear more about causality —

Yet the context’s unlocked, to no ideology hewn. I’m

Eve, off Adam’s rib, a financial planner ahead of my time.
I’m still not finished, she says.
We can spot them both as atheoretical elaborators, since they spoke first.
The tallest paintings remeasure your height.

Painting ideas.

You had heard maggots eat paintings stretched onto canvases of different sizes, gloomy jigsaws, severed threads, sticky placards in paint that’s wasted, emaciated planes, junk and emptiness.

Painting double quotes.
What’s he got to talk about beside his sack of parrots?

He’s snooty and sells antiques?


The skinny from last night avoids defining many obscure or complex wranglings.

Yet I like a text assemblage of contradictions.
Neanderthals constructed poems in two rings of deliberately cracked stalagmites, 400 per ring.

First to impress their Swedish hosts, workshopped into volunteer flotation gear.
Re-examining my savagery…
doing what Pessoa said.
In another version if I admit I enjoy tricky intersections I’ll be taking sides. I told them at calisthenics I’d prefer not to watch from the grandstand and de-harvest illusions of atmospheric slop. But doing it I missed what happens. Walking away burns more calories. Better to get a coach or two to work out with you, pretending they are you, covering your lips with my gloved thumb.
Talk while you paint.

Look, a flying now. A case of voice 

Over matte finish.
As you advance thru security 

This line is busy. What’s the problem?
What’s going on? Hose us off

— they know — because motion

In heat 

Protects them — they won.

Likewise, I nabbed one

More, I could sit on them

While they wobble all day. 

Do I have the name right?
Prose gets along in a poem. It has a work permit. That’s why
The place has been wiped clean of unforced errors.

A poem essay invests in spontaneity gleaned from what icons blur;
Bourgeois think war unjust when there’s no one to lose it. Hoy

Until now there were no bourgeois poet essayists.
Yet, we could rubber any room —
My advice for exploring ideas, stick to the sentence.
To go along continue needing riches.
Thanks for writing.
I’ve been put on a 20-year panel of sun. Once again.
Family ghosts, male and female, roam outside with the panicked surrounding our dark thoughts. (All of them.)
It’s like a dance to respect what you guys were doing — our surprised look while you were working on it.

There’s hustle to market, along with rips in the drawers of space/time whose pulls burgeon on ennobling, blobby warmth, piping up like Boulez,
accompanied by addictions to risk among filmy shapes in vertical bands, except you...
With continued use
A lot of faces head off the wave.
I'm ending both.


Never disagree
with inferiors. Superiors. Never.
Never point to silent contentment,
its branches lifting suspended glare
defining an invisible rotating column.
Sitting down delivers good news, stateliness already had its faint say. Now you can text and drive overtime, behold zeta functions befalling hedgerows like a new highway divider along an infinite axis.
Trix or Trixie is the name. In a compulsive battle over dejected smiley faces, it’s not just who guffaws fast, but who takes off with alarming ideas about lexicon.
How can Trix (better) hear the extreme difficulty in separating external compulsion from the experience of desire..

..through the door on top of sematics?

Trixie, again, leaves for finishing school. She’s wearing khakis and a red T-shirt and my new backpack stuffed with graphs. She wants more than a group-regulated ethos for the manufacture of comedy and verse. Like you who said

The archives are at risk.
“With the past falling..” That’s good, because I sneaked across those gimme-erotic catalysts. (I don’t remember whose or how.) 

I’ll subsist in attrition finding and picking up purviews “encircling travel” — a shore in maneuvers pitched way up like mores with infectious provisos, integers-to-be and no buzz to kill. 
A buzz beats my eyes open when I (am or) was looking ragged but in a studied, not irresponsible way, reading and taking dictation to wrap up sleep.
Captain your thoughts
then opt for a safety
school. Push shyness aside,
spiff up & sign all smog-
sniffing affirmations.
Regulate an embrace multi-nationally.
Es geshah am helichten Tag —

Never feel sorry for the diva
who has brains and eats
— never forward your resume or IQ to a date.


The terms are, go settle down through the evening and finish your agenda
At gunpoint. Please, even heartthrobs will be covered by shrouds that fray
And unspool to tease advantage from the plan. Imprisoning refinement.
If you’re not there, anything Apollonian looks flab prone.
O yup, a broad context refuses to arbitrate glamour, okay... we’re done
.. On my behalf Apollo can break laws to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
either way is fractional in the bigger context / e.r.
Freedom is impersonal. With more solid throwdowns of perfection up the hall,
binary fission about meaning what is not said
or saying what is not meant.
Radon d’Etre

Cold drafts are escapement and spray
forming part brightness with a pulse,
part average improvisatory dare.
Diluent? Sleepy days of assented-to hours loosen us
from these biodata — discharged to interiors,
into sussed, sonic focus.
is my safe house until I can’t stop
fixing the straps I tore
for you.
2. Bad news, I was
struck by the French property owner. You know,
plagiarism in quotes.
It’s cold indirection
but my metabolism really took off, along with emotions from a huge manuscript
I’m freezing

for the ‘end quote.’
Watching text spin like sentience
refined by distance, since
it’s both or none of the above, this could be for you now.
1. I use bigger words than you,
The spring flowers, the moon in autumn —
Classification by evolutionary collisions.
I think I prefer staying all-purpose, best calm, never resolved.


Bandits 1st.

You translators are a close 2nd.

That leaves ‘just the 2 of us.’ We appear ordinary. This is about something else.

Then I repeat if I were you I’m all I should have —
Provincetown: Trained staff encourage sampling as Lt Benji takes fingerprints, once a full-time hobby for Meister beach boy put in charge after age 30.

No incriminating evidence yet (or ever). The night is young.
What can be done to language? Never again?

Boredom is poor experiment, our supervisor said. And that’s what we wrote down to snap out of it — lightness, joy, eyes-open dream. And 3rd cousin to dream. Knower and known are clean osmosis in reverse! It’s clearer every day we’re way behind the suitably flared frontier.

Time I guess to air-lift eagerness and cover it. I’ve been a floater of cynicism in relation to any concept I sever. (It’s hard for me to take credit.) “It’s always about dying,”
Btw, “never death.” A living cousin to death, as to ‘never,’ I never never. I consider myself a neurolinguistic product manager. Once removed.
Celebrity stalkers.

We invented Hubble.
What we thought we knew
we enjoyed making dumb-
great from the top
terminating in masked handlers.

Following orders we reflect their mistaken identity,
immune to sudden desire with intimacy.
What have we got to lose?
Language + materials referred to, dimensions variable. Dimensions variable. That’s the ceci n’est pas une pipe part. I’m one of those hoarders of history, picking out, piling stuff in the garage
(of accessible language), keeping barbed wire and Ted Greenwald materials reconciled like chairs.
I’m fifteen. We can do the roundtable math rather well, yet not entirely. Free-range sunlight in the clerestory of our lair... where elements of bloodthirsty aplomb are excessively off-key. Safety in timing carefully disguised as bright to furious, knowing the advantages waiting a beat.


Ode to the dead (maybe not yet).
A beautiful sentence:
Everyone’s in place. One’s place.
Food also knows where it belongs.

The stage brightens.
Is it sub-luminous un-inhibiting our endowment?

Knowing the ropes to scale now
clearing the theatre of lame comforts,

Stern, all the food pecked over, even down
to our place, last place, last row.
Frequently there’s a bitch
for whom you kiss that person.

She’s the bird notes
with a contract to bore within

— loyal as her lookout torn from a doorway
in a sparse analysis of unified travel.
don’t pick on anyone else..
Top of the moment — I saw your approaching motion
my once satellite du monde in demi vacuum.
Now you’re smiling, shhhhh more observant, with a more observant love.
Still flush — yes, feels.. not useless.
It feels like impossible.

Likely, shhhhh becomes welcoming
hands that boss

maneuvers. Explanation intact.
Your movements go by a few names, still coordinated but hidden in.. hardly underwear.

Not dreadful but low, classic, easy, unforgettable elements surrounding a presence (for now) then taking off your panties —

For nudity, it’s always a swing dance in practice, a new side of narrowing expense and becoming hollow thru the center, handing over your bills and coins.

A lot of Dutch people go Dutch.
Marxist-self irony:
I’m a neo-accepter of making and being particles of subjective misnomers. 
Eating and breathing them too.



My old neighbor created L’il Abner out of vitriol and bolus of sardonic revenge after WWII, exorcised as Ozark distantiation. Jester tricked to death.

Now, it’s the end of aging; cartooning is flat out hot. Order within chaos. Be one with it.
I have an eye on jesters while I’m holding to their path, rescuing no one.
It’s July, August..
And this is what it means to have a muse.
A poet will work in a freezing apartment that is far more than a place for thoughts to gather thru summer. She struggles in cold rooms for little compensation and goes beyond the joy of subverting the arbiters of something. Something something.
Have we no will, no interest to shed our platform ambiguity?
Rainy Sundays or any day we break for the Olympics observed or imagined on the ceiling: Rationed atheism has long been the main event. Sectarian payments find a balance of situation (organ music), steam and rush-formatted white ‘sky’ disappearing like totals in multiplicities (music for copulation). Late afternoon to others.
Ethical epitomes go against the grain. Maybe a grain.
What are faux resonators for but to attempt command of natural selection and all bloodlines.
Um.. there’s nothing but an eye blush of heat that measures desperate ‘orders’ you understand in reckless hands —
Don’t forget silent partners ripening in the future, un-despairing, effect usage summaries...

Brilliant. Breathing life, we have hundreds of these, o Swami, nothing to discredit and
...no hell to pay!
Live longer.
The archives are at risk.


Insert the bonus and exchange — what do you know! —
Your tongue is radiant, clean up to my neck,

a phenomenal fact and factoid that can end in a draw sustained by
getting up, stretching for an hour.
Factor in a plug-in for artisan strength calisthenics.

Corporal resonance turns into a prism on top of which you can finger-point to the horizon, magnified and askew. So note what happens.
Better to get a friend or two to write for you, pretending they are you, falling mute, covering your lips with my gloved thumb.
Angst roughens up indulgence.
You knew the side effects —
We’re 1/2-way there. That’s when the aliens evanesce.
Their loneliness and excruciating pain
smothered during rifle practice.. swimming in a freezing
basin, weeping .. piling on debt ..
I’ll tell you what awaits the weary in The Bible. Locusts.
Varsity crew:

In zendo lighting eyes drift as if

undressing underwater. I see why snails

build a house. They stand around and tank,
coltish to the end. Jacobeans.
A disheartening skull pile supposes its completion. Angels speak up, tho, in dialog enhancer mode.
We get to a point where we have to stop, adjusting to marsh purviews returned as shrine –y meadow.

I give up missing your skin.


What is curious style?
Taken whole:
“Give in, dig it.”
Blimey. (There’s a new policy to block deletions.)
I’m sipping Tropicana on curiosity’s behalf,
Taken your lead. Word processing in sheer Palatino
All the time, staggering prose!
Tomorrow I’ll
Tap out more deletions I forgot to lose —
Nobody like me is cast to be annoying; I just fell into it. The problem, as an affect and prerequisite, engineered simplicity holds the coordinates for pouring tonic over other people’s glass tables. Internal ‘gears’ regulate due caution, rushing in nauseous effects, which are natural, to your personal advantage, and which you have to waive anyway, as though privileged opposition were some huge treasure, my sweet.
Mercury is wow! pensive, coming back, back... no..

You’re saying no to billing days first, no to virulent, callow graphemes, stance covers for a copyist. Cut the trad crocus, low opinions and bloodied mesh. No aplomb in nature, please. No chiastic haunts. And no golf property for now.

There is no personality, so why beat anyone up? We can read back over found work but never go back to walk the innocent-seeming turret and loggia built by another’s labor, overlooking our exciting first game together...

Funny place
for a dance, Mr Baker.
Landscape: Over the summer construction advances.
Uncivil also true, summer advances over the construction.
Everybody goes!
... inevitably constructivist and supremacist impulses are joined.
Who or what is as reserved and specific as the moist film on a blade of grass to assess the new autumn?
Yah but a friendly warning for the mind,

Film ‘work-arounds’ bully sarcasm to un-wit a way and means to spiraling logically.
Please, not now, Santa...


A private-public distinction
no longer limits outcomes for a buffered work force.

Besides giving empathy
I write on my agenda,

A vapidly growing thing
once I launch it —

I got married without knowing the side effects
— wait, I forgot why I called.
Can’t say what happened that day but I know we slept because there was a whole mattress to lie on.

The mime sequence where I speak out was spoofy. More, there was a moderator from a board of modulation. I carry cash and deal with the cops but I’m no killer. Lack instinct. Sri.

Many of what we call instincts interact with musty dynamics eventually. More than musty, foul as in apres-euphoria.
A tone-deaf dancing lawman gets more attention now so

I keep hammering a poem is a cat meow ten times more.
Opposition — that other guy with Verlaine,
2 birdbrains, explicit about nothing or nothing much; yes/ja / no/nein?

Ok, they were willful but we stayed in control — a thousand bees were stinging our feet —
Wanting as well as having nothing — shhhhhh.. I cant
.. I shouldnt ask, losing you, did I live like that fly on the wall?
— since you demolished the text, I handed it in; dont expect extra credit after all.
I’m going to avoid your rut and stick with my own.
Nonviolence resolutions have been approved. Staring into the candle you can think,
meaning on. This temple is the place for no definitions.
No meanings for speech but new meanings, good as gossip to evade a “mixed speaking strategy” to
partner with whom, exactly? O realization in a flash..

I have a steady girl now. I have rage stamped inside. I have it
everywhere within

a burning zone.

Only years later rather I took a word bath, which isn’t often.
The air is sawed off, doing better. We were dangerous, once. 
Smooth rhetoric is purely transparent. It’s too late to make it sparse.  Even our restraint is wishy for its own sake.


We could see from a distance, your rakish note to yourself, my mixed medium ..

As I understand it the exact second you insert the first-person, a sand rampart like a moral freedom can and will drill five feet down and under the ground, a strafed, natural spectacle falling into coherence, something you never saw and you never will, you gestalt freak.
Here comes Mr Jones
In life, he and they would understand.

True and lost — complex, gangly, mostly mute yet histrionic, anticruel
-ish. They apologize for the inconvenience of curricular adjustments.
Tons of special forces in silhouette .. polished from water .. on day one we’ll ..
Correct everything near the top filling in with capacitance-assistants, eventually
Theorists of a visual world culture (camaraderie) wholly populated by posturing.
I’d like to thank the Academy.

Goliath, Duchamps, Sinatra!

IT warned me of overrefined emblems and their sweeping reproach. I’m not religious. Not by a long shot, snow in September? I took note of what you like from the beginning and became pope. Your pope. I had a few ideas in mind. I put on my pants and left.

Oh, tech services... tell us a little more about your miserable ontology affecting checks, balances, and mantra logjams —

How did worldviews crumble into environmentality to pantomime the inference undercutting American literacy?
Matins in 4 scary minutes:

Capitalism never hesitates beating then shooting the innocent into space but each victim goes broke, sighing take me, kill freely and find me a Guy Laroche. O outer knee —

This is done all over doing it over —
Never doubt..ew..there’s enterprise in victimhood, each higher up will argue. There’s one problem. Only cash in small bills in exchange for a free ride, we mean it, tho, let’s discourse, subject to chance ..
A Deux Magots adaptation:
Robots embrace the free market, it was announced in a penetrating tone,

a pale mist of drifting nothing. Blameless, nonetheless free of anguish for the moment.
The masters picked that up from them.. ..wolves running through snow melting into wolves..


Neither dead or alive, the windmill in your imagination has a request,

“to express things ... as they are when you see them without remembering having looked at them.” It’s an infinite standard for feeding you vocabulary until climax, numbered like fruit.
We are free — still — to say what some think — but their recipes, or ours, are perfused with given theory. Trees in place, defiantly miscellaneous, thanks to a compliant Leitkultur, treeways on a berm, backdrop to the ideal civil democratic union with permissions built on headwinds —

with as it were or without manners. Good manners can scar others but they also let us peons act like participants in marking time as tho subscribers to the regulatory plutocracy.
Either way, I know so little about the state and the state knows much less — these facts are slaughtered by memory.
Affordable Noh. That’s both of us w/ big hanging wolf eyes. We’re a match in perseverance, trying to spook when we meet, somersaulting in /

What went around then came gasping, the more irregular the verb...

At fight camp all you bring are wet marks over your shirt — there you go — cadet-ed!

Inductions to your other habits —
The gleaming haze drags down sculptures of felted helium
A little like nerves done over by spinning in warm wind.

Noh stuff.
Since giving up on poetry, singalong has vaulted to the top of our agenda. Leaving office has a double meaning to off-center the filing (filtering) system and other singularities I’ve kept newly-kind for years. We have no limits to affirm any retractions, feeding our reliance on illumined work, dire pleasures, majestic plans and, this most generalized I guess, burningly turning back, watching the wax dim.
Sway your head. That means dance.

Don’t hold it in. Talk to your doctor.
Read this. I did.
It’s half in libretto.

Try something cartoonish. I’m whirling around, pens and markers in hand in roughly 4 minute stints. Learning something about what I mean, high jinks soar belying despair over entropy, a quiet smoke, losing gravity!
One presumes elements are strung together out of desperation and a deeply ingrained exposition to demark the unknown, much as technology funds science.


Celebrity stalkers are in the grips of mistaken identity, immune to sudden desire with intimacy. What have they got to lose?
Bags and bags of money for one paid to reflection in infinite battle with consciousness.
China’s philosophers are not unique carrying on the tradition Massasoit transmits.
Are you sitting in the sentence
listening ? wearing nothing but
eagerness for a motive to
hear what we were afraid to be?
A light is produced by heated argument.
Heat the cosmos can hear. The hot trajectory is downtown-to-Washington-on-to-nowhere, a very mean arc to bridge, all right — erratically stencilled with tweezers-length trapezoids at its austere outer rings.

Taxonomy, to get back to the cosmos, stands tiptoe atop shoulders of ascending ideas, forgetting the raw laborers below lined up on broken mosaics, necks pounding from overtime

like French ex-royals.
Light and casual in a threatening male supposition,
I still haven’t figured out why — I’m restricted to a world without suffering that can’t exist.
In addition, it’s hurling we are now separated.

It sounds like you know the feeling but you’re not getting it. I want to distinguish my common prayer of grabbing knives and spoons v. the intuition that expresses it.

Missing you doesn’t change anything. I want you to be happy but on time for signing the release pledge, availing yourself of lilac patterned backgrounds here that look like versions of cunning and mirrored parsimony canceling out our love triangle — set against fetishes and hiked vibes. It also helps to roll on the bed side to side.
We unholster & dance across the room / the lumberjack in me & you.
The color wheel is graduated to go with our rainforest ethos & smiley
faces. We speak our mother tongue, fine interiors, to no product hewn.


Our alienation has been recorded and jocularly accepted. For cloying effect sprigs are picking up and driftwood is epigrammatic, the upside unrelated, pale, immaculate. I’ll cut you off one side of the division. Marry me.

I’m not about to let you starve.

(Shifting back to friends mode...)
Simple enough picking up a pen
. . . land and lives on it have data functions, similarly

synthetic appropriation by composition, a vigil
and force applied putting some form of youth

into a piece, since land and landscape do not come in themselves, regardless of beauty —
the river bank played by

metaphors and substitutions of the time — more informal,
taking dictation, substituting after the math.
I drive a Steinbeck but dream in a Camus.
I heard my cat meow ten times and then more, ‘license and registration ..’
I’m being taken down. Something about my discrimination in music, which is chopped inside a lazy susan.. I’ll invite you to try...

Oppressed, rejected, sure, I’m in there, but personality disorder is a binding element of hip party kerfuffles and drooling, perverted dalliance. So put me down for p.d., revalidating my fears.
How the cosmos is unexplained, parts one and two. In the first, taxonomies are set in weathered deco, dimly lit by the affiliated overflow while astronomers stand there from a famous university with nothing to give back.

In the mental part, covert specialists use tightly wound diversions to gain advantage for incriminating thoughts. They march with different cause-ists and solons halfway; paternalism indulged through wisecracks. But most of the others, humanists, are reformed as divas and idiots in the minority and they take the bullets; why? 
You don’t understand until I do.


The if-movement (aspirations) can be thought
A saga you (as any of us) can pump off & on — so on

-Coming then coming clean is another part of closeness.
Lateer, new police!
[speak of paranoia]
There are subtitles, various languages. You dream while staying awake and translate the exposed back of another dreaming.
Nothing accrues but there’s a lifetime of waking thoughts.
Sleeping has nothing to do with nothing.
You can exit the room at any point, burning, or add features to nodules, as in rote ed like foundational philosophy.
A beautiful writer is stunning, front and center. When
distracted, s/he hears “Continue − to enter the contest area − Continue.”

Some say, not going to lie to you, both of us botch a radius, destabilizing ‘oppositional’ temperament. On our side, we’re doing well, considering.

                            To consider the wooded radius is greater work, cuts straight through any restructure, throwing out hyper-nonliteral depth w/ gutsy, landscapist abandon.
The budget cuts (last line) are background to double-rhymed ambient scores. Like entire sectors that feel it’s the end of capital, epic sums expended in slender career arcs.

                            The floodgates and instrumentation get redone for full combat. We bring up Solo cups, wondering about other churning bits of our lifeline. It might be some freedoms are on probation ...

according to decision theory now. / Only for continuing
the problem has been how.
A new problem set:
Work through naïve discourse —

Keep methods observable as mayhem —
Call this ‘transactional’ taking action
Unlocking — on sight — your pervasive hesitation.

Make it personal and dorky. Straighten your head more.
Simple and poor, that’s a traffic violation. Enjoined,

the unclassified face 10-to-life...

leaving it to other investors who might stay offended, or

not — the next step in the training.


I flash to a new place. And I’ve never been more uplifted, more unnerved by a silent chamber piece somberly floating in fun here and there, now audible signs of history, of intention, preparing us for a fixed melody with renewed power. Unless there is nowhere else.
En route to the dogs, there’s the apocalypse within; pushing deeply.
Our lot’s in a hurry.

No future arouses chaotic phenomena rooting for any singularity ahead until there is no threshold. Matter persists, no dissonance, no disruption, a new status quo: perpetual and vital amid meanderings that are ordered appearances gone dormant, nearly, or running off with fresh incentives for a frontier in more unboundedness, optics unravelled in dissolving attitudes behind all the good times forward.
A dress. Dresses. 
Now she’s spilling bourbon over my a-line, all thumbs to keep our game up & running. Likewise I’ll write about it. As poet-jewel thief wearing a dress, you might think it profitable to string her sentences together like paste rubies & artificial pearls deliberately mismatched, like John Waters’ suburbs, adroitly inexpensive and passé. Each sentence shines in gloom as ends won’t match up with beginnings, not quite, each sparkle dulled into an afterthought containing falsehoods but cinched by faintly plausible, recognizable style — sparkle doubled down, my other dress draped over bowls of Chesapeake crabs & crab traps, a near accident or an accident-in-the-making. She might desire to push a personal datum, like me or your notion of having sex as linear as the death of a family member..  
It went pants & belts from there.
Stop waving that grape juice ...
That was sentries ago and since
The atmosphere upsurged when language is tired. His eyes fill with manpower.
His hair’s on the brink.

The climate showing my cards — a friend led me to him,
A sure bet ad infinitum.
He smiles with no doubts about my bluffing knowhow & innocence
... the rain keeps raising the mind’s oceanfront, bringing it all back.
A colonel-general. What a night. No problem
Expunging a storied narrative
That was normal, believable
Waking up, sticky, stuffed-up nonphysical parts
Standing far off across an invitation to meet,
Not even having hay fever as a backdrop — nothing
Hidden, nothing,
No chance forever.
Keep secrets of teleportation to float free.
Free momentarily. Here or there are volatility models according to script, vocalism in a sense. We’re beaming them and their feelings up with known and hidden risks — a fat chance shifting their weight brings in a slimmer recovery.

All or nothing, you’re on your own.


Past is no guarantee of future thrum and harder rumble, hey and whoa, how awful, how much are you exercising to circumvent compulsory selfies, nonprecious cargo between the cracks, obsessions with a smear of wet mulched chickpeas? I can’t get into specifics, because it’s too verbal a compromise. I know I am next, I’m flapping my arms in front of me.

And I’m afraid of being abducted.

At the very top motion is pink and mapped. So be ready.
We All Have Our Own Gangs Because I relish lyricism mounting a central stairway. T suggests a quick detour. A couple of hours pass. There’s been vintage aversion, around a corner sirens and sailors. Sunshine starts to feel like a slap in the face. Milling around is jammed.
I’d be lying if I said you and I had no adolescent fantasies.

Tossing water balloons across the typing pool ..
                      there is none now.

For you, learning about how to learn is important — playskills you need when you buckle under sportswriting. Yes, fan, you sick typist-inside.
You and I are followers, waking in hazy brightness and .. apologies for blunt geometric scrims..
Wait — I get wind in the space of a game day .. followers like us can be transformed! views down hallways into stairs cut apart and fronted with music of our choosing and making.

One apiece.
In evolution we have an identity crisis
when who knows how I’m doing this

for our agenda? Near the teary top we crate
handiwork, cover it with a power tarp, drained of weight.

Moss alive! I could lose another i.d. if any of this touches either of us. Or ours.
I used to have a power dependency that’s reasonable to regret.
I think it’s polite to say ‘power,’ not ‘ostentatious pensiveness for hours.’
Changed my mind.. Nobody can help us shorten the learning curve.
You’re always not talking. I get your point (noncommittal without the tedium of argument).
So I turn blue when I cool. I blast up by myself when you leave. And when you come back I produce a mental readout of how long it takes you to set the temperature, lighting and so on.

I can’t snicker, I’m elegant and round with a mirror finish.
The American Songbook has motors for luscious hills, gleaming grains. Apparatchik Bukowski’s fall is a warning, hissable, gone monochrome in uglified loveliness besieged by entertainment.


You embody most everything I've lost to live longer.
You can light a fire and duped
combatants (verse classics) suck up to the surface for a face off.
You looked right at me.
I cancelled mah dental work coz it was Carnival
centa of tha street I was a piece of tha parade ...
On mortality,

I’m a big baby. That’s b for clarified as black-and gold pelage, married and vulnerable, exploring reiterations of my own duality.

I’m alive feeling the swansdown of DNA. Soon I’ll be comically dead — that’s married to a triplicate database — sinking into forest behavior, giving up meat, fish, emotionally shot ..

devoted to seamless disproportionality.
Hushed buzzwords in the newsletter bring up null tinctures from rain or sunshine sprints, much as a will to influence is the answer sheet for getting fleeced. Not hearing from you (lost your keys...) fosters coercion of what evolutionary good was before it ran through some expulsive options.

Your box or mine?
I reincarnate from my house in a test pattern. I picked the place up from an ex-class-marshal who never had to do much, holding out for a nest egg. A nestling.

The property hasn’t changed, you may have noticed — mine is a household of fugues. I’m spry and underhanded getting back to private reasons for how the reeds work, the scents.
How can we be considered modern w/ Trumps around?


Conditions look rigged — like wanting you (I do),

not out of calculation, it began how far vast

connivance liberates one to oppose square facts. 

Or plans change. Like pandering taking a guess, this time I might

replace similes and dash off with my loose footing

on the oily tarp, perplexed, taking it outside

Rubeks of a denatured octagonal gloom.
Pickerel babes eat one another speaking

Pickerelish. Parents want to defend their young

but can’t. (Picture them, peach cones & rods of violet.

As with fish
there’s salience to nodding agreement thought-

fully.) I get all my ideas from media

studies, yet geometric brainstorming

like this is easier-to-sleep-w/-&-pulsate

-to. Instincts tho are buried under cement,
sunk talking to each other, eh?
Hard to get out of the wrinkled valise —
(I removed the tongue)
Kindly explain leverage inside a more collaborative framework.
Sure, I’ll leverage our last minute or two deeply missing you. There you are! but how long have we been planting thoughts with no precursors, no conventional frame for generation or gender balance? Maybe it’s a mistake, collaborating on curious travel so close to a fault line... I grant you that;

Like all of the above and people going in and out of service buildings, climbing stairs, you’re one hundred percent normal running up debt to keep devotees heartbroken.

Adoring you is a full service enterprise and a moral politics! where leverage follows its bliss.
Platterpuss, the cough, the kiss —
Justice w/ passion, seltzer

foaming mercury selenide... I told you these were blocking ideas.

I keep going, barefoot & outdoors

the tuba bits are detouring into surf & compact surfaces

— praise & the opposite grow acrostic, slightly rife

after doublecrosses. I grab my pen & clamber over to

your jet gate where you’re holding sound-

tracks w/ pulleys over notes of civet & benzoin.

My fly is open. I feel overextended & you forget big words —

under whose thumb might this be? This quiet nook

is a stretch of dark matter — the glove-as-puppet is a trap

while phys ed shifts one martial art at a time

into the present. Right, a physical affair is supported by a look,

heated, promoting sea plankton. Bookmarks aren’t supported.
Through atomic microscopes
it’s August but it is dark and may snow.

This century’s waste already stands tall, but this A.M. sun rays came like snow unsnapping the white clasps to white headbands.

White on white.
In bridal light one sees seraphic whites.
So few appear

Sloganeering is back. Join today.

Music and rhinestones like white potassiums line up everyone on oscillation lists going over the assembly, handcuffing only a few.
2 quests.. Just who are we to say we should attend to what I am doing? It’s love like ours that pitches English to prioritized claims. Are you sitting in the sentence while listening there? wearing nothing but a motive, eager to do what we were afraid to be?