5/24/22

I know this, at least I know I see what I mean. Why drive to a new place where they’re cooking imbecilically? Why waste time at what could be a late lunch, spilling coke over a glass table.. because you can’t feel the buzz, checking your Apple watch, seeking immortality..
82: Sing:

I swear..

...I’ll say it again, there’s dedicated speech to overlook, a high-five as you whisper this is a second emphasis, both natural and gross.

Philosopher A says strained rhetoric is a precious jewel but even fake words have always been devised by humans.
And therefore there’s no escape beneath the social parasail of rhetorical infighting. Plain speech commits us, forces us.

And so does love. You are as fair in speech and knowledge as in hue.

Devised in love, that’s the plain worst case, and, further, here we are — let me give you a hand.
Yum-suffused shortbread has some regions, ancestry
In brogues. So it’s really something and nothing

And we have developed responses
.. untruthful automated Now Pro voices ..“that acquiesce on a positive note..”
This can’t be real, one doesn’t have to seem interesting. “No clouds, hi contrast,
Of little depth.” But that doesn’t sound bad. There’s a slimmer chance

I’m captioning the fixed width to Now Pro today
Evolving in massive overuse. Hmm?

Last words on process: Counterfeiting
Is luckier than reading everything before it’s rooted in or out.

No sweat on heavy attainment comes up next, avail. in this rough version of Recently Used
English to wish you any and all the full pleasure I withheld. Damn!

5/23/22

Writers freely consume their own slapstick
when there’s a conceptual contingency to max, along
with requisite ethical structure to examine anyone’s taste level.

Now you know what to expect.

You can’t put limits on free-lancers’ exuberant leisure
within a theoretical commune of blood vengeance..
Smart money on the solo stiff up against her writing board.
The staff on ethics sit this out, mood-soaked, shaking
Next question, true or not. Is the last part more than ok? Technology keeps humming to utter fulfillment. The cigar and its plantations. It’s a manageable stretch from there to when you left, even while I ruled out what went between us. You hadn’t left a name, either. Yet, I stood closer, always wrong. To leverage and grow are businessspeak. To get feedback. Utmost to misunderstand.
Sonnet 65: 
Cultural boundlessness in impulsive concealment.. it could be a physics meditation held outdoors last summer. All night flower action evolved stronger, steelier pretexts, many out of hand.. petals and stems hold sway over an impregnable tease
In time you and I hold our own, stumbling upon a rare birthmark as we held out for continuity as it were — trademarks of both natural and technical production, mortal yet like honey bright in value or a variable of summer, either way.
Singing into one’s hat is like shooting for triumph.
Otherwise, sung language has a light vegan sexuality.

Whew! I’ve been chewing to 1 side, noted by 3rd parties (dentists)..

Hanging out in unusual white corridors...
Suggesting we’re still trembling, owing to

The chew off, creating new intelligence for making sense,
Most often pulling some predictable rabbit out of a hat —

A Pythagorean hat for which there is a beginning,
There is an end, don’t fix it.

5/22/22

There are statements of facts
And those of law. Their truth
Levels go down or soar — depending on
Outer linear order and your age.

Each generation gets through the pass, those that would,


Externalizing struggle beyond their years. (torched , like in the renaissance.)

In today’s federalism we’re feeling besieged
within the meaning of no revolution now.
Thanks to strong interference we accept multiverses.
It’s like saying pardon me to a wave doing micro macro transitions —

A warning looms to live on 
to next season, the most indivisible of 14 — 
I’m thrilled by our principle’s

often-quoted exponent. Proud of pride.
Our will bending lives. 

I never imagined keeping count of waves.
I need to ache in their lather and intimacy.
4: Unthrifty = extravagant; nothing = no thing.
To traffic in deception, keep a record of your writing. Take fast notes
.. and I’m being fra nk, beauty lent to you
will oppose evidence of previous loveliness gone unused —
a perplexed legacy (taken outside why or whether acceptable

to audit profit and thrift). I’ll lend you
my saddle for your extrication from delirium ..

Love whom else? Is it ‘no thing’ for me or you to go free? In a coin flip, we

address fog to bequest lilac-dark to the air
spending upon you and me
a denatured octagonal gloom.
By our own natures, sum of sums, we must write our notes alone.

5/21/22

My leaving office is double edged as I’m prone to off-center my traveling light and affirming any retraction. I’m tapping down a reliance on hard work, pleasures, plans, and this most generalized — one shoulder hitched higher. I’m ready, set to name names but allegorizing ‘companions’ — it happens.

It’s nothing personal. Hands up.

On the corner of statue and cape, there’s
a play friend who just passed an easy show of hands
beyond orgasm overdue an hour ago (one mild altercation took it
into shades of de-constraining tease).

A heyday of hands.
Giving in to temptation, she reinvented herself. In sum, she’s erotic with no social conscience. Lantern jaw. Not a jaw, but a chin that extends a fuzzy glow like a lantern that shines onto flab, a short neckline. Right. She’s got a weak chin. No jaw. A double chin.

No character but a gray, cerebral mutt.
She designed herself colorful, simply drawn, doglike. So she did have character, despite her fanciful, perfidious mien and no jaw.

Switching face dyes, she sat in the dark waiting for all the colors to fold in. The occasion seemed sado-obvious and frustrated her pursuit of prophecy, a number of them.
2: We never come across deep trenches in your beauty here. Not here.

Slow, like never before, a thriftless parabola of your face intersects both of us. Parabolas come up with their own monikers (that were).

Face to shoulders, our gestures are precise, going well into your eyes, and through your eyes, the viewer’s glass.

There are proud motions throughout — answering to your sunken gaze. Warm and cold pride climb down a first, second, third hill. Falling lower — a lusty mainstream-underground

of units of successors proceeding, then, looking craven — we — some of us — avoid them. Of small worth. When asked, will

you recover some of mine? Renew my worth? how much? First, let’s renew
our blood and warmth, summed up in fair use

remembering pleasures of the eyes! neck! and chest!
Yes there..
RNA itemizes facts. 
Do you name your dares?  
Or stay rubbernecking in the dark,  
 
Fat above, never satisfied?  
We come from creatures far back, slowly calmed  
By fear we were of a kind they were to others, lacking  
Redoubled patrimony and our finding-it-out tools.   
 
Distribution adjustment has those to spare..  
Now tasked down from behaviorist briefs. 

5/20/22

I’m a floater of cynicism when it comes to treatable influences.

Early on our folks taught us to celebrate country music!
Burp through the microphone, Earl, stare ahead.
It’s early on — it’s a joke — I hadn’t spoken to you, I imagined
we can overlook a construction zone perforated by echoes, swindles,
procedural lunges toward extra gags. But I see I had.
After vowing hate (for the report) I bear you love.
& what of it?
I’m like everyone else who grew up refusing novels, a nutshell of a wonk glaring, boasting bragging rights over inexact outcomes, crayon-ing over lucky, boundless love non-judgmentally!
& of course I did time w/ “live people...”
75: Every time I visit you in your mascara I become lucid about the fear you strike. Day by day you’re in my thoughts, food to my life. And I see your brilliance lives again, sure enough; it always has, fudging strife and abasement. There you are.

I came to poetry later than you.
Pleasure then the transportation of your soul take place about here and now.
Nothing for me. I feel I’m a pursuer of no delight, uninvited to the Worry Dance, revalidating my whorl of cement paintings..

Starved for a look, now, counting it best if the world
see both my fear and pleasure feasting off you, on your dime, thus, in your sight...
pursuing you in peace, all or nothing, with you alone.
(The lord’s will tilting my ribs reflected aphids gathering on a wall, also unanswerably, in my hand. Whose hand? Those were my sentiments. The last ones. I’m pretty sure. If I weren’t sure I’d take it back.)

5/19/22

Dark stamina turns out a soulful lab mix of you and me. The further we go on

Descriptors peel away, earning extra penumbrae with trace synonyms.
What a night. No problem
Expunging the storied narrative and

Ordinary one-in-a-million stuff that appears normal, believable.

Then that

Rolling out of bed far off across

You and yours, just dreaming it up

putting you in mind of an imminent photo realism.
Ode: I’m sleep. An only hill 
I’ve been researching  
Awake most nights:  
A clean face in the morning — caped  
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light that’s the best.  
 
Dogs and woods by the ocean, other 
Kludges and hacks harder to implement.   
Can you dig the stillness? Can you keep an eye out, the ocean over.   
 
Repeat this until approved.
58: Deserting the beach — god forbid

— dazzling lethargy undoing our cuffs, waiting as the wagon sways
with fellowship. Love in the future, at your beck and call, a handshake spreads the rain,

flowers, rain,
flowers.
(That’s it! Do what you want.

The moat-house for the wagon then some new wagon shirts we
can walk on with. Hell. A mighty wine origami and the wagon yard for our widows.

This is spring history.)
Stutterers stutter trying not to
looking to feints in thorny circumstance,
unable to help us play a single practical
joke — I hadn’t spoken to you for months
about your adaptability thru mirrors, swindles..
distending procedural lunges toward more feints.

It’s hard for me to take credit for all you’ve done
yet I can see these things happening without you;
furthermore, I give up on any topic I redact.

5/18/22

Why thru sprinkles? stepping over water balloons floating 
in a once swimming pool.. spurts of views down  
hallways, stairs set apart and fronted  
with music waking in dimming brightness  
with no memory how you got there. That you? 
Didn’t they tell you  
slim tones and soft muscularity prove   
our brains are stolen. Later   
 

we wander off the promontory back home muttering “TV,   
TV,” a mildly eccentric suburbia     
 

waiting for payday in awe-inspiring taxation.   
Hazards all sides.  
There you are.
The once conservative invention of worship is over. 
A wall of calm thus put up. There are no facts in the future.
For now, love your synchronized neighbors. Ghost writing adult ideology is pure brinksmanship in disordering political parroting and consensus. It’s not known why parroting caught on. We’re mostly redistributionists for sure, youth symbolically living to do it over but scale calm up. Everyday politics is practiced by young and old in anger, useless bruising rhetoric, forcibly asserted. 

Cultural obligations shape who youth are, a late phase of withdrawal from a deadlock in eerie nuance with our future attributes.
83: Life with Mr Juice came up short — charm 
-ing & familiar — unfair tenderness in a paper sack. 
Hostess bike spinners & fake license & plate. 
A poet’s Chase debt.
I found (or again I thought within the stillness) 
Of your eyes nagging me for more .. Admit you miss late modern jhushes & doing away with text devices. 
You miss the first drag. You miss rendering 
 
Mr Juice wearing new credentials 
Your entire inner being (when others would give only their lives...) you, like me, have nothing set. 
Have you read, poets’ praise & worth get ten percent of their daily 
Calories from pot smoking — sleeping to excess.  
 
Mute poets hereon become slack. 
Thereupon, as Juice imputes to me, I’m barren as I am dumb.
Can we reconstruct weather formations circling bright light credited to seven chimeras in a purified labyrinth?

Yes, I think we can. Those seven, now under the forecast quiver to sleep, resemble one another trembling in patterns.

*
Pierre Bourdieu throws a projectile — “Magnified preferences [‘tastes’] of
capital distribution are stopgaps like reassembling heterodoxlogy while
subdominant esthetic fields balloon into baggier ideas.”

Bourdieu gets home to his Cajun kitchen, much later, and hears whether
it’s a voice in his head. “We gain as much knowledge from our shortcomings
as insights.” Well, ah! Our shortcomings have their own weather stats to share here
while checks and balances are nasally inspissated thru fear.

5/17/22

Struggling with no vulnerability to vie for solitude, I pursued insight by your ‘grant’; for how do I hold you? That’s one for liberal arts. Secure oases cannot be considered in terms other than liberal; with great laughter impelling knowing, not knowing, comfortable indeterminacy.       
  
A given. Someday.  
  
Now no song of punishment without a reward, sorrow over death. 
Only your own half meets you halfway, how morning can blur promises   
while letting your adages cool.  
 
Is this a document or did you and I make it up?  
Frozen water on Mars is our smoking gun.   
 
Another question  
Of how should I hurt?  
Once and be done.
It’s impolitic to separate the performance from stage direction; both are deadpan. Have you thought of writing?
99: Stay on the hunt, tough to please, speculate (ouch)

even as vengeful tectonic plates jump over
our fears, shame and despair.

Annexed to you, a purple violet seems grossly dyed, your soft cheek
raining havoc for lilies.. marjoram, my love’s breath, your breath. (Uh.) Here’s where you and I lose the scent. Ever


-yone does. Clouded (ouch)
flames ennoble the sky to blush through


my love’s veins, your hands, both of us among thorns ..
condemned for pride, proud I’m going on all nerves stolen from you.
Trust an old memory,

Corporate design is a sable coat, still.

You 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.

5/16/22

Achilles, what can you do or not do? Are you sitting on the floor 
listening ? wearing nothing but  
eagerness for a motive to  
hear what we were afraid to be?
Foundational bias underpins Achilles’s argument for or against not being sure.
A signature concern throughout the night is deformed experience. The bigger the better. Peculiarly, one other point — so many writers simultaneously figure out the brute’s forefoot and heel, studying nature and truth in the misprision of writing within supposition and guesswork. Achilles becomes enamored of composers turning toward stage experiment and utopic closure.

For then no separation point emerges. Harsh.
I can’t take vicissitudes. We’re staying in.
Appointment thru haircuts.
New wilderness outdoors traces
a wistful landscape, hum-vacuumed,
cuddling escalations in bod movement, your bod, your ledgers of faces.
Lucky you and I live on, fudging abasement
in clean confinement serving a purpose within
supernumerary states of being (confined). Nevertheless
gastronomy is to breaking the ice as ‘fucking / sponginess’ is
to bacchanals.
Hereabouts.
Sonnet 86:

The future reaches full sail bound for higher intelligence, prized above a ‘mortal’ pitch, teaching us to surprise ourselves and grow up, that is, write estimates of verse.
I thought of you giving us cohorts sweet aid, other fair gifts.. Astonished, we see our pride flies away along with others’. Out of control dreams work around a crowd of familiars whom we teach to write.

Once our brains ripen, we won’t concede — neither to calm of victory nor to fear. At night, tho, I lack a precious affable character beyond my mortal self.. both that and a familiar’s ghost-morality strike me as too precious then — like enfeeblement, non-growth, like death, like filling this line.
Step Five (ok, I hardly get to do this): I nod off while admiring clearly invisible gamma material at a teeny axis point of existence. One is strong and stupid with an emphasis on novelty. I can imagine a spontaneous disintegration of pragmatics and rarefied syntax until I find myself in the same place here, only in a ‘half-life’ where — 3 decades later! — speech still matters.

5/15/22

An organizing force under command matures into familiar splashes of anesthesia: Takes my place being places (an event in tropes) — Meantime, ping. We’re here for discovery via inflection in lap pools of condensed matter from excursions to aquatic worlds. The named oceans are dated, right, left Pouting, getting better! When they come to — there will be perorations re- framing rainwater within fairer scents rimming sunlight in suspension, ripped, Amputated chutes! Grape vines burst out, lackluster. Though I love grime, the force’s guilt- making — carryies me thru, unphased: Guilt does this to deplete me of hope. 1st choice for a sonnet is to solve for x. Be funny and coalesce. Dear multiple choices from eternity: Send a message I can wolf down. Convey a sense of urgency when superfluous. Then put off all force.
I’m having an up-
pitch dark brainstorm so obvious 
why stop  

Only, let’s call it implanted intelligence,
O baby  
all the way unnhh..     

O yesses encompass in advance  
shimmer  
— crash. Al-    

So let me see..  
dreams get drawn on a map  

of all maps...
103: You’re showing up more. I got wind of it, put you in
Just to make our list. I’m from and form the periphery;

My muse makes it so. Don’t blame me.
Say I’ll be back. We’ll look into it. You never can tell.
Poverty is all right but not extreme poverty. Without you I’m barely striving

“How do I love you and have the scope,
And expect no help?”

Some things you need to whisper again, and more, much more ..
(I forget now how you sound...)
Through evolution we may have had an identity crisis
when who knows how they’re doing this

to our agenda? Near the teary top we crate
our handiwork, cover it with a power tarp, drain it 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.’