I am is still here, the body’s purring could not be put off. (One dissipates the other.) And one sorority reviews egg whites in their spare, bubbly zeal to outpace an apparatus (not properly issued to commentary).
Wrong. Constantly wrong is correct once an hour if you’re a minute hand person. (Seriously? But what is identity.)
[...can’t stop it...through
language [going in] [out...] cheesy time lapses in which [animating backward] speech & narrative continuity become incrementally
transformed into deep structure affixing Old Norse phonemes to nonobserving verbs. ]
Now my head is cleared.

Still if we had grounds I’d subside higher up having you weed out caution.

I call this leaving you.
We’re trained in several logos and theologies; 
Hey it’s obvious as that degree you’re holding.  
Hands down.  
Sung language has a light vegan sexuality — 
Take a verse.  

We chew to 1 side, noted by 3rd parties  

Hanging out in their unusual white corridors  

Suggesting you’re still trembling from the  

Chew off .. just a short chopper ride  

From the bank and trade. It’s vegan  
With a so called mother gloss, 1st-  
Order phenomena pitted together as cognates  
Still coming to seed and adornment,  
Half-audible ricochets seeding us like a lawn. 
1: Ornament is content.

The yews know how to wear theirs, contracting buds to bury might in content with our bed in it — the last day we ate the world. Together and tender, flaming, increasing now
and then their memory subsided in time, turning dull and bright green.
63: Hours..drain..blood. Something came up.

As I am now, Max Planck fellows are running off with radical research incentives for a frontier in vanishing unboundedness: Organized treasures in a small package, tethered particle immolation. The dignity of boson appearances, confounding cruelty and love, alike, fed from memory. With little or no motive, the sky foregrounds their process styles, stealing them all always.
Full expression is ruinous ahead of patterned, glimmering haze surrounding the powerful, dating them; you know, the level of glamorous self regard goes high. If all we do is seduce and note conquests, we lose. We lose austere joys, cloud dogma, sculpture perpetrated out of wire in scentless comfort, winter is coming skies. Scentless discomfort, too. 


You’re a mess, honey.
                          — Touch of Evil

Something came up.

Little or no, nothing. There’s so small

an exchange to transact, no product, only

an exhibitionist’s subtopic within the power den,

to prove repeated effort protracts pleasure.
There’s a cloying aspect when able bodies gather to
phenotype, we have to polish the devices

we had called gateways where wealth is wed (by the dooryard)
to far correlates, aspect 2, inventing a new intelligence of largess.

The third part I guess is our resolve that comes in processing integuments,
weekly tea, investigative retailing..

Here’s our take on never getting back together. It’s another part
to tensive healing (a method) stitched to transparency (washes of shadow)
in compliance w/ odds off bets already placed... wherein
musical notes conflict w/ breakfast & rubbery clouds, a proverbial laugh:

Nobody totally killed it. Until you. The docents were untouched.

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

still, it’s not overrated, I whisper to you, falling myself for reincarnation roughing it ..oh,
wait we did this already..
54: You’re back!

Given the truth, we cave wantonly to your lovely sweet odor (fairer in our forgetfulness).
O wooed rose!

Before they show within you — and like you — perfumes far ahead were of dark matter, unmasking buds that distill a civilizing beauty added to summer’s space

Filling our eyes for show with unmeasured disassociation.
53: A substance note:
Shadow and imitation we know from illusion — 

Millions of nebulae. Curved and hollowed. 

You have some other part a
-s long as shade 
stays constantly out of shape
through spring. Everyone’s one counterfeit value a
-mounts so poorly vs your new beauty, a 
constant show and all 
art, strangely lent to us either way. 
62: A painting of sin beaten, confounding as I am now —

I can say we drained its blood willingly (nurture, nature, frantic leisure).
All my heart the fit was good. My age has traveled on, your every fortified part of spring
When I noticed my self-love at work under you to make your poise smoke
w/ the problem being.


Suspend suspension..

Our hesitance to go there is weather related warmth riding in and a similar improvised sauna of fog out, darkness offshore the day before.
The atmosphere wheezes common sense. We can’t bang it out though its pace is emboldening dreams.

What hinges out?
Hop in, I’m a musician.
I have aged for you. You may have noticed I’m on the side of folding in meaning that has no purpose, just sheer falsetto.

You want in? Try eye accessing cues, carve out what rafter was last seen strapped at the top. A name for emphasis might be imagined.

A serious pronominal.
There’s a discontinuous method to share.
There is an automated palletizer of bread
With industrial KUKA robots in a bakery
In Germany where groove is so a verb.

An odd relay plants these thoughts.

We don’t do pinpricks, I’m told. I did my research.
Since I’m not adding bespoke grammar to anguish,
This would be a special offer, today only.
Anyway, I retract my falsehoods.
Sonnet 26: A life is charged by the menu. A duty so great
Occasionally you sleep, given immunity, I hope.
My thought is tottered, all naked.

Dear you,

The fine knits are lacking for a generalist’s conceit, wanting words to show half a wit. I’m fairly clueless about vertically integrated brinkmanship. Conceits in that field are deliberately made up to look made up, to look as if we need a hand skipping dinner, combing through motions and whatsoever low pressure peeled back from almost getting our tenuous, jutting fingers into and under the interstate that brought you and me home.

I don’t think driving in the mind can be boasted of by moving points so good I’m not worried it gets easier.

I do love you till then.
Something came up. And what’s not mentioned expands underground.
This is unlikely as lightning gaining on fog. Lightning understands

it’s disassociated. Has nothing to transact, no product.

How is it fire some want to be? Up in sparks fog glows

and falls out with grey streaks that look glazed or remedial past

the exercise and expense of the seven seas.
This is a short study. Or it was. Youth is that impressionable.
Ultra blurry, anamorphic, bound movement sung by writing it down and it occurs in the latest form of repayment,

— you
weigh nothing in and get no credit, no
spectral, tiny swaggering to cash in.

As it comes to end, there’s a substitution agreement containing someone to look up to
                            and me in force, pulled on from inside.

— oh yeah, pulled awake more than once w/ a face, a filled out line. Or lines. Smiling lessons.
You contain only so much of me.
I live where you belong, she said.


In every country other than the U.S. confessions are taboo. Not here. The first person is like everyone else in lyrical society, boasting bragging rights for having interesting things to read, packs of old love notes, crayoned hearts and drunken smiley faces, pledging boundless love.

Of course the I-trope is... sticky. The Ivy trope acts as if it spent decades on self-gazing, an assembly of pulverized dots — big, jaunty dots that gather at will to darken world markets, ducking your punch and closing the distance.
Blackened windows:
We know we don’t know
Facts are a marketplace,
A rendezvous to encapsulate sleights of tongue.
I’ll have sherry Pepsi. And just the sardines.  
I’m sorry this happened. I was going to stay  
from the moment we set the stage squinting within representation,  
getting some miles in, taking them on board, putting them in mind  
of a menial photorealism. 
Come on, don’t let me down.
Someday all this will be yours. A few
City blocks that lean socialist, an oblique, neat,
Untapped atmosphere w/ corners of slovenly
Housekeeping and, worse, earnest alignment,
Reading strung out everywhere. Living
Chronologically simulates the senses; these new scents
Went in circles as tho undressing.. sidestepping
Into some prowess of floating rare, unquietly new
Dance: It’s a sorry concentrate: Until I went broke I was indebted.

I just can’t do enough.
Now an international scale opposes the light in my body. It’s scary-loud at first, yet there are comic possibilities as dreams seem to centralize.

I came to my senses separating to put up a lava tint. So what if I say prompts the assembly made of torn Gillette letters and small decimals?
As a rule any attempt to hold forth is off topic.

The sun shines larger. We rely,
really like your ideas. / O

It’s such nice work, any idea
with its schema proliferates —

I’m still not finished, you pay.
We call soliloquy theoretical
since there’s no one else speaking.
The idea she’s extended is not audible —
it’s just a backstory in a way
sulking inside schemata for rooms —
Websites lie. This a translation lesson. I’m elegant and round. I can’t snicker. You can though. ### I’m off the wall. So I turn blue when I cool up. I blast by myself when you leave for work. When you come home I produce a mental readout of how long it takes you to set the new temp, humidity tolerance and so. ### I can’t snicker I’m elegant and round with a mirror finish.


I see your inside voice, binary to binary autosuggestion.
When it gets dark it happens fast.

We wanted to go to

This point, stabilizing the office — over the ocean
W/out ‘water- or personal-contact.’
— you mentioned erring out

For tax purposes as accountants for love will suggest —
Kudos for some of the thanks!
Your iron determination being your own tax guy is magnetic.

I’m solving you for new parity
W/ the scum of the peninsula.
32: You’re reserved outdoors, Psyche, for his love
Exempts us from showing up to enchain, knife, subdue.. 
That’s before reaching heights of happier men.
Satie playing, giving away what we’re good at 
— gosh a population for tears forms in cozy brothels. 
A class struggle thinking it’s for real. 

The struggle, not the tears. 
20: Like voices and solitary genius in the workplace (seaside, e.g.) — amazing particles sleep it off in traffic, affecting hands up to the bridge lattice.
Inside nature’s face you’ll find warm things. All hues, charged, painted brilliant to the eye. Passion that’s stuffed-ish.

Antic intellectualism invades the host work. The work less false & the life, almost like master and mistress glimpsing it as it flew.
23: My agent is a penis. Imperfect
actor. Its shortcomings balloon in ‘harmony’ & w/ use

— where my epistemology scampers in transparent secrecy
in such abundance I weaken w/ fierce ideas to leverage your heart in the pluperfect.

My mien adheres to an expressed rule staying purposely
dull, entered into by going your way first. It’s

clear refinement where character offers libation,
supports your tantrums from underneath. I can step right in.
It would be a challenge to simplify winning as in a new car or suffering injury, 
Starving how?  
You’re at the door  
As I thought of you.  
Now a delay for  


Living somewhat left of Unitarian 
(Japanese cranes)  
it’s impossible to separate churning out understatement from the performance; both are adolescent in a good sense, pitch. So that’s how the cave and landscape felt. Next, a full database advanced by a minimalist method, burning out your swing meeting half-death in no way hapless, sensing no value contingent; partly insight, partly rot. 
It began as parallel ideas.
I was saying Harry Partch’s gadgets and impulse intersect
An immersive ocular apparatus, thumping
W/ the capacity to recognize infinite series
As a glow that’s cool and regular.
36: Let me confess I sign off on others’ labor —
A newspaper edition, documentary remnants, penetrable databases —

We occupy this clever, conceptual nook, curling up, thinking up ...
At times siding with the powerful seems deliberate as well as passive-aggressive, love’s public effect, blots of respect for labor.
I’m kidding. I’m staying sarcastic — unironically. Anxious pleasures bearing pleasurable anxiety, repeating ...
A nonreligion of men, a High Service
Sung along both coasts:

Our people are what makes us / great.
Love and heritage go down together.

The last nonpoem eases the dress code, a bolo tie display on 2 thru 8
For a race of giants (giants are made up pieces of one another in other names).

Love came up short for a few and drove them to forgery. And shatters.
The taking of whatever works to swat the hand that feeds them,

Sharpening endurance,
Risking focus.
This is my 1st stab at tantrics, 
boiling sanguine, sad going through her pinafore of latitudes, so  
Perfect, she doesn’t see we’re getting drawing from other traces  
and no matter. 


There’s audible glee not being perennially the other and oppressed;
the oppressed are what we avoid when we can be free

on the outside. A natural voice bouquet smolders
w/ the emancipatory normality of assumed dominance.

In better Prada, a louder voice distorting the status-quo on otherworldly streets:
“Where are we going?” This or that way. I guess
so. Not particularly.
Those who still insist on fighting state power, let alone directly taking it over, are immediately accused of being stuck in the ‘old paradigm’: the task today is to resist state power by withdrawing from its scope, subtracting oneself from it, creating new spaces outside its control.

— Savoj Žižek
Solitary dark
                          the air pushes..aside

— tilting your head with no untoward parts, transfixed silhouette
— the Demon Puff in his plumage / language.

I was hit in the face when he turned himself in.

I knew and now know I am unhappy and, like most everyone, not —

the boat’s cortex holding out ..
Sonnet 100:

We have tangibility subtracting song
— work converted to industry
with little or no honor in order. Worthless

But it adds up. That numbers spoil everywhere, times
We don’t have to see you,
get the job done. Surveyed

We forget that’s why esteemed actuaries went
unmoored. Affection is idly vicarious what’s what. Vicarious isn’t long
enough. Thinner, stouter merge within what accounts spent,
a despised lost cause like a belief system, if any, the survey said.
Dear October looking like June,
I went to your reading dreaming of cutting out. I thought I went outside
and cried. Happy nerves. I need a new sum of things, just remembered.

A heart shaken culinary distaste holding
my tongue on the verge of resisting you, thanks to notes of civet and benzoin.

In the right daylight, polygamy twitching inside a church, acquainted with women and men’s affairs —
“In each house a different white hall, adapted to sever the head
from the vines. That’s an odd thing
to say, are you in or out?

Another thing, I want all the pillars and vines shaken.
I’ll put it this way and be done.
I misfiled your core principles, went 
for higher ones in baroque-neurotic sleep. 

Any higher, they’re not talking ..
(there’s tighter discipline) 

Highly apéritif, 
morally camouflaged cold indirection 

But our metabolism really took off, along 
with raw emotions from a huge manuscript 
I’m freezing, since 

It’s none of the above. 
Naval voices wake me up. 
It’s too embarrassing 

pulsing in a deep mirror, 
light rain to snow performing butoh. 

(Ethical and mammalian boundaries pertain.) 


2)  Here’s a proposition. Start over. Compelling work toasts knowledge construction — in plain speak — as well as finds, explains & reforms infinitesimal times-spaces. Your optimism is required (a) to keep everything open for reform; (b) to understand we are beginning our work, always. 

Read Ashbery from the back forward: Defense owns — there seem — accents — these:
reticence such on put days, our
moving and light, puzzling in place
of morning winter smiles .. a chorus

Emerges which on canvas ..
noises w/ filled already silence ..

101: It gave me hiccups when our best senses re-cooled — mindful silence long overdue.
The senses I reference are in primary season.

And I’m back teaching, reading and lifting texts, you in the foreground with outlived memories. (The conductor knows everything because he needs nothing.)

We grabbed the narrator (we couldn’t rule him out), staying blithe in the twin columns.
I can talk to your teachers. I can reason with them.
I can’t reason with you. I can’t even talk to you. Why?
Literally nothing is granted, nowhere, no why, no how.
There’s another centerpiece to explain how flowers are cut as progressions. 

Iconoclasts count them in a series, along with any allure of falling cornices. 

They did (in plurals). 

Now months later, it’s good news 
Since you wait for new word, not empower others. 

Everything belongs hiding in plain sight, on the ground, no hinge, 
Ornamental to a point ...a voice of suspicion, hisses. 
Two decades earlier I loved your mother and father.

I digress: I’ve got your back that’s looking deep and allowing, pleasant.
Parable: It’s nice to be interrupted thrice.


Our last owner had an understanding with multiple staff. 
His happiness washes up in our candy bar and cudgel DNA.  
O we celebrated, beaten but breathing in what’s next.  
We have a most advanced gene distribution system.  
Try to look better. 
Flames stink up the place. Hay on fire. Let’s dump all this way in the rearview where we can’t see. We will be leaving footholds in town, doubles of blurs in dizzy luxury, punching thru colorless straw and spheres in embers.

Hay savors just punishment! — regulatory propriety could care less, looking to nominal trivia — exactly what we recoil from, summoning logical defenses to explain a Hail Mary pass and your first entertaining containment.
31: You remind me of lovers gone. A morning crew, weathermen
Waving arms over their heads in all naked patterns —
This is their 1st stab at tantrics, due of many now.
They merit love trophies — now yours alone,

Tears hiding in view of you, in you
Disguised as glare removed from coastal space.
Playing hockey, any one team can lose
Yet we always won, until Vietnam, fair, square, smoking. 
Cupid’s appeal? Head-on appeal is stark 
for pacifist taste. Here, that’s speaking practically 
just as shoulders tilt 
half a second, the long answer’s in his moves hanging around the goal
you can scream, open and enjoy. 

I don’t know. Yes. Details collect. It’s a mad softness where 
we’re going over one part, step after Santa Claus step 
as mating instruction and human rights. 
Ly random swagger for the catch) 
(Trained} staff encourage sampling  
Coerced by the life of the owner’s party speaking. 


Cupid is a hired gun who goes anywhere. Cupid’s id? It’s a violent,
smoking culture so we need straight talk.

It’s a gay culture so we need that. We’ve been up
for two centuries fighting overseas.
Head-on war is a mistake (Diane di Prima).
For all appearances nothing lurid was due at signing. Default 
Swaps in reconnaissance at the barricades live — 
You appear ok. Lie. This was about something else. Love,  
Never weep with your pant legs up, banker,  
Since footwear permeates antinomy, buried love  
Finally & meantime — your new agent’s housewarming runs on   
(blanched) curtains along w/ sliders showing movement hidden in you inside —   
Trolls at the barricades have been taking icky notes as the weather cooperates,   
Where reputations precede character, tact of apprehension remains.   
Who will advocate for peace to empower mergers & exchange?   
For example. 
154: During the break we reached an agreement,
so the ham’s anger has hatched.. while his endurance and ours
enable the passing tourney (tense Fu owners)
to nuance emotions for the 3-in-1 innocents to proceed.

Heart asleep, little love, I remember looking up at you, at —
ahem — feeling an urgency in ideas taking heat. Women, men:
Legions warmed living in a debt growing city state. Maximum restraint
= get it done and so don’t talk to me.

Pumped with mandatory inflows of feel-
oops, they’re metering to block counterfeiters’
hen of steam: From which, from art of algorithms, all
Personnel will have to be shifted or fired,
coming to work anyway, achieving a remedy, seemly
bliss of the non-willed state, enlightened but as it is, lacking need or goodwill.
On a highway, gentle police lights
— Luxury vans flow in aid. Further uphill
Hauling “rays of light that seethe patently” — Stolen beauty ...and he gives!
He can afford it.

A ray’s lip, your lip, curls in his record performance /
Your opinion or position counts, a worthy argument
Made easier — you take the wheel,
Officer. I’ll hand it to you & have your way —

Then thank him —
There’s due process replicating our facial
Comfort in raw push-pulls ..

Touching on other behavior in a wily, rough
Translation .. (desultorily sexual) to read on, reread
Brutality extending just to your cheek by jowl for the nth call;
More intuition — “rhymed” with your near-virginity beneath disappearing into

What’s my business? Aperture systems led me to holding Volatility models from tv, vocalism in a sense. Hidden risks shift weight (merge accounts request). CVS photo counter. I know him, he knows me, I admire him, he back. Instructions are errands; I’m my own boss.
Collaborating on 1’s entrance essay: 1 firmly believes 1 can do this. The question is the same.

Nothing went wrong?

Part 2: Question losses, excesses.*

*The answer is the same. Next, we did our homework, which was study more for a spelling bee.


Creature masks are prerequisites, in reprieve at the School of Nobody 
Teaching can’t be taught. You live within practice 

To engage another’s psyche. 
 You’re always wrong to prolong your appeal. 
A bright spot on the game horizon, we’re beginning to see a need for a blanket authority or foundation to issue antinomian licenses. A nondemocratic institution that constitutes only one of a set to which no democratic or parliamentarian voice matters, no second thoughts, no heuristics, and in which nothing un-elfin or hurtful belongs or stays put, holding ourselves to the test doctrine of multiple shots at Todd’s Miniature Golf. 
152: Selfportrait in loving you with hedge clippers, fighting blood sugar.
[Zygotes follow commands. It’s a collective.]
I remember hedges thru 3rd parties, their deep kindness.

Sunrise. Whose-ever rhyming system — Uhmmms call up oblong homonyms,

Playing back strings to pop songs — the RNA of things they see..
[Earle Brown in the audio ground..]
And to enlighten you and me I’m

Mashing oaths of love into phosphate genetic tads, keep-saking you, me, ourselves!
Poeets with long guns:
Jonn Yau, Anne Waldman, Charles Bernstein
And silencers:
Peter Gizzi, David Shapiro, Al Filreis
What’s this eyebrow to?  Eyebrows pile up like the snow of socks before a sit-down inside the capitol.


I am confused,
claimant of the photogenic vitamin to stop bleeding
is not a complete thought, lacking, useless settling in
meaning in a way — a rain and raincoat of moods, one’s thank you for pastimes
as warm-bodied as visually queuing up for everything.

So you get it now, assigning completion to us to go cathartic
is no yes vending graft about dualism
with hand and finger gestures where we get caught chatting.
Once your public is mounted you can add your own awesome content!
Your first lover.

He could heal you thru.
Then forces of narrative come seething, your breath fixed

to the floor as it circles midair as if it had a right to.
Also we see our ETA.
We won’t be a second late — your ex boyfriends
understand we can meet seeing you.

That’s the gist.
146: I’m talking to you in American. 
Christ is missing. No more dying then? Not going to lie to you, I watched us dream economics feeding, painting a radius, destabilizing temperament like small worms eating up the soul. A body loss. Looters and rhombus-gatherers, all doing well respectively — great work, cuts straight through its own restructure creating more chopping patterns to abandon.  
The chips mount a background to soundtracks muting key words. Entire sectors of us feel it’s about time, so short a lease, epic sums on new slender gloss. The walkway and manly instrumentation  
are redone in full combat. Let’s wonder about tidbits of hyper-literal churning depth. (It might be feminists who went on genome probation.)  
This is that world’s decision theory now selling hours of dross.  
(Ideologues always get stuck on the last lines.) 
The float seems to learn fever can be unwelcome overnight: 
“The float is radiant, jammed with radiant things,” had 
Simon Schama anticipated, not long ago, “but no, had I been  
eloquent as to the fair, to the bright we’d need no caption.”  
The float throughout anticipated that base point ..  
What does there’s still a move to go do?  
Keep nursing desire past cure — a psychic point or three feeding the appetite to please. 
And here gear management inserted a bonus to exchange and not so bad — 
a physical act of fondness that can only end in a draw sustained one by one  
getting up, stretching for an hour. 


After glamour there’s power. The virus is already inside us, wo-
lfed down improv crap, we’re pre-wired or is there a fee?
Radiance now is the lather of swing. Remember deliverance?

“What if it doesn’t work. Then what?”
Anytime and place of our choosing: Act gathered.
Monkish antinomy left the office to 1/2
nter on taking off for pinier points, points to please death, love,
                    desperate even dying.
My 3-D models are you & everything else I can be w/ w/out you if
You left me at random past care.

This dawns on me once
Before blasted onward, discourse & chaos go hand in hand, utterly psychic as we are
— having seen it, married it earlier

& I don’t mind if I look worn or beaten up. I’m wearing

My love as a fever costume, stretched black poplin, black as hell in a trance.
I see your idea. Gnarly aviation.

Purity on the surface deed’s recorded, perked into light


Private property struts, wound up slugged from penmanship,

A ’contract’ in big physics, ghastly on its back.
There’s envy of haters’ swimming synchronized, beyond prayer —
With or without ebon ink global capitalists itemize all bets.

One pleasure is borrowing sentences to raise our debits.

All experience is seriously correct.. How to win.
You called me what?
134: Knocked up by surety and apparatus, unattainable vote totals involve usurer intrigue, bromance, equipage of the half-taught or self-illumined. An inured slice of childhood domains all to use another time. Back in time.
So now and then I liked primary grades more. Later, in romantic couplets, one confessed breathing up, swollen within a radiant distance — lost, wearing nothing but motives for aching to do what we were afraid to be? So he’s yours?

I’ll sue you for disrespect, covetous of my comfort, a friend, my couplet. I lived your peach flash thru witless dialectic. I drank your Labrador tea. And for doctoral research I took up free, motorized speech.

I don’t worry or pierce my ears further.
All experience is seriously correct.. 
But what is?   
How can it if I tell you what I’m?   
I’m in no hurry. A life was charged  
now curled up on the menu.  
(Have to go.)  
There I’m preaching to your eyebrows.  
(Cave safely.) 


Dutch people go Dutch. I go along. 
I’ve moved to the Delft coast, Rijswijkse Waterweg, dunes of Irontown, because my ideal climax is at the salt edge, just across from Spread Eagle where I’ve bagged the dainty, ultra built new guy who lives at the priest’s house, along with the priest’s teen sons.  
[Very few priests hereabouts.]
Just before Halloween this comes in.
Your first lover could not heal your mind through his skin.
Then we happened to answer you, seeing the wind is fixed in the dirt
and circles midair. We see your subtle flight.

Buried for dead but still in our view:
If I put my hands on..
you can’t hear me you’re going too fast (bicyclist to bicyclist).

It’s a mistake in the tradition but it gets you to sleepwalk with one shoe in hand.

I will find you.
There’s a term for attrition of affects, eyesore.

And there’s a hypertonic struggle to housesit too much information. You know it exists. Human body fat is worth $100,000 a gallon.
This is the good gold.

A life is charged for care. I’m otherwise a coffee head! But let’s pare it down.

Have we ever done anything but tamper with the weather? Oh, who knows? Oh, Ladytron. You seem so fake-excited in the sprayed periphery, staying in balance inside a soft radical vapor of bigness, loosely demolished.
Facts are a marketplace; figures look good when least derivative. Volatile objective content triumphs. Right or wrong it’s kind of a snob racket (Charles B).

It’s profound and prefigured... mark how the Frankfurt School’s defenders get nested within the keyboard to flatter contingent values within partitas, trios and quartets for others’ voices from inventory.

Our nervous system can distort music abysmally, Charles might say, to emphasize changes in radial evil neglected by the super ego. B is for Bukowski.
That slap in the face harder to explain now — a waste of energy..
Traffic jammed under the apartments — tropic action — 
W/ a cruel lemon sliver caught in my nose, pairing up past reason,  
Romeo and Eurydice. Just a wedge. 


Your mellowness operates transferrable accounts.

As it were. Yet it’s shameful to work for the state. How did Paulo Freire alone stand, pause and brush back his hair? others like him looking up like flight risks? To keep going we find little or no compromise.

The music seems headstrong but we’ll give you a call.

“Great ... I’ll just hold...”
Trust an old memory,

Corporate design is a full-length mink coat.

I have nothing else to wear.
Ounce by carbon resin ounce native fluency may be floatable within, once regarded in this wholeness w/ contours beeped forward, smart enough tho meaner beyond these whereabouts.

The native whereabouts on loud speaker as it were, the workspace, the top percents of it, can hear,
feel its sweet succinct stages striking noon after dark.
What about fabulous machinations to pull off another scandal to influence comment?
Visceral, intellectual? Dopey red (Perseus) v. sociopathic radiation (his mom). Vaunted in sap, complexities debate the high surface where the stars in secret inform a young writer:

Find yourself with someone brave-headed for a new decraese... try an elision with young clowns, inconstant, non mimetic v. those mouth-piecing others’ ideas (wearing sweat colors).

If I join you now we might invert informally. Married, selfsame unmarried.

After lovemaking, performance.
151: Our berserk contacts squeeze topical structure into gentle shadows that are too numb to know what conscience is.

We learnt lightly, love is too young. Yet triumph in love is slathered over the poor and excluded. Axioms and other memes are what we are deft w/. So the poor-excluded doesn’t count? I can’t tell, I wouldn’t know. Who does?
When instrumentalists and the proud struck their alliance, we thought this is a gross prize although our ultimatums were rephrased and moral aspirations became more footloose and empirically incontestable as Seven Bagatelles.
Wait time takes full effect per a week ago.
I’m just commenting. Crazy ’bout the poems.

One only care

I wave where you are not tho I feel you are.

2. This is tomorrow before the cart.
The vapor all for it, both arms, waving. We see
Your candidates constitute the unmarried Non-Group playing a best-of-vulgar,
Long shot in a ritual for door prize for outlasting how nice that would be.
I’d heard a heart beats faster waiting at ease. Wait time takes ‘full effect’ without attachment to addictive capital, arresting back.

This is an edit. That’s as close as I have to lush, less certain, too-ennobling a pulse.

It’s what’s put back.


Here it comes. Sometimes later.
Bandits 1st
You translators are a close 2nd. 

We appear ordinary. This is almost about something else. 

Then I repeated if I were you I’m about all I should have — 
Space time. Slash pauses.
Totally never-in, our keyless Platonism won’t stand up as practice /
not while angles of light are brawling on taking us home.
Vaccinated, a merciless itch, what is this collapsed satori we travel into?
/ Passing thought immortalizes the X+1 “casting
of cities,” thinking past us. A true 2 years B-4
messing with U. Why wait?
I’m dating other cast members while I go thru systems
as in your own speech act II.

We’ve gone over this.
You look great in text, available where I promise not to rewrite;
I’m never to see you again. Of course there’s a way unfolding to take you out, shake you tamed,

Fair illustrator. Killer. I’m otherwise kind of a coffee head. Question..
Have we ever done anything but toy with the true weather? Oh, who knows? Oh, fair Ladytron. You know, you seem so fake-excited in your periphery, kind of staying inside a soft radical anathemic vapor, loosely true

Yet demolished. Ergo your discourse comes down as animated routines. No personality.
Going back, favoring a fair objective

Boy-girl, your kind is in a chess game.
I’m going to castle you. We are..

Shall I mark you as another true ambition
in an illustrator’s incident layers, 3 in 1 —

Having what you’re having, sorting the dots’

Congeries of texture? I turned and we asked again.
(It felt unwise.)
Heavy-lidded, an escort’s sensibility (as if I know any —