I don’t know that much about you, but you remind me of someone
Who can recall profound formality taking shape not that far off, quelling fear.
Half a day goes by and
You are unattainable.
You are hypersensitive to chaos, a thing to uphold.

Pull over, this is serious.
128: How often the ear stands tacit partner confounded with sweet concord. To be in concord .. (I know jacks about this ..) 
To stay in concord, how often envy falls off — as tho entr’acte — wiry yet fluid motions, a nimble boldness to harvest for a saucy change:

Blushing to be tickled I kiss inwardly on your tender palms that sway in and out, 

Either side of my lips, poor lips, more than nimble, blessed, tickled inward, dancing gingerly for your fingers to kiss and your lips.
Alt right, verse’s meta-conscious. On the surface, voice projects text like selfies, “poking” materials, assemblies, even one’s audience. Selfies however adhere to full, reticent agendas.
Pedagogic systems schedule exams on dominant samples. Absorbing that syllabus is high achievement, praised and sustained so long as it’s duplicable.

Rightist epistemology’s key reinforcements: skillsets bias encompassing math, socio-graphs, algorithms — as well as strict observance of procedural rules.
Hands are everything.
That was past conjecture; ever since  
The evidence upsurges when language retires.
His eyes & yours fill with manpower.  
Your brain stores all kinds of pleasure. & his the same.
A genome led you to him..  
He smiles with no doubts about your bluffing kowtow & innocence  
  — nothing to discredit &  
...no hell to pay! ... the rain keeps raising rules of thumb, bringing it all back.


I went to hell with you.
The unoccupied mind long overdue. 
Meantime I was losing a fortune in darts...  
While I keep my mouth shut & listen,    
Escalating with all my sharpened implements to inhabit received logic.    
I’m retracing what I think you see. I’m   
Mastering every projectile color, finding new names,     
Pushing the most oblivious among motion arts,    
Tai-chi of self-watch. There. And these     
Steps entangle bosons of mine, yours along with everyone  
Rushing us toward long careers in revision & redefinition...  
Everyone needs a secret life.
I got the idea from going to church.
Am not believing this.

Visuals like abstract fog formally at odds in empty parts,
split seconds in a bigger blank with no data.
A bog of cloudburst capsizes, disabused of cloud,

blending in, no longer exterior to land

untrusted and re-tenured, a heavy precip

snapping into randomness.
111: Before I turn into another cure of yours, yours for my sake, i.e., I assure you a corrective hand took away anything too crafty in my nature... I am more receptive to work now and long subdued from harm, far and away.. at last ah! nothing bitter, I’m your willing patient (almost). Fortunes, manners, means, everything doubly correct and subdued. Pity in that sense our infection and bad deeds, guilt, nothing else — the die cast.
I’ve got to hold back. Not bob around.

This is in response to the commerce-vector coursing through pop concepts, bringing unique comfort to support our cushy position in the food chain, which is evermore in dispute.

I adhere to the same late-filing rule as you. We are keepers of decades at night.

Love is moaning all right. I’m almost a novice enthusiast.. but years from now.
Then, inscrutably I’ll break down and sob.
Dawn. I thought I wouldn’t get back to sleep.

I was going to call it “Draped Profile.”
Held from both sides.
Distinguished in feel. “Pronounce it.”
That’s good.
Now draw the strings. Ok
— what do you know!

It goes off the air base,
Hard to shovel, soft to fall
White, blue, pale
— lavish as doves

Which are no more
Swept with visual certainty
No matter how we change in love.


Anchored in the bay I need to remind myself 
L Kearney rhymed all with skull, internally. P Inman’s  
Echelon hairnet shifted putty, thumb-nailed into  
An agreement to let us in. Skull with putty.  
Urgent, dizzy, it all comes down to earth.  
The more you put your fingers in it, on it, on earth,  
you know retouches, colorations return as audible signs  
of evidence-based reproof of making fitter  
(more adhesive) decisions for correct behavior.
There is slender lovemaking on square obstacles. To stop tremors, rouged slippers are warmed as leftovers, something a lapdog in one room repairs with, to a separate bungalow. The commissary situated down in the sub-chambers, getting there aimlessly onerous. What will they spell for lunch today?
98: Smothered abstractions. Absent from you in spring, I think it’s winter still. Another day, slim odds. Almost the same as hopeless, yet different jokes turn over in sleep, dreams drawn after you, dreams that forgive me for holding the moment for too long — for paranoia’s trapping both of us. Summer’s story, flowers’ smell sweet, lilies white, roses vermillion: The sweet spirit of youth’s hue and odors. These are your abstractions, all these pattern figures drawn after you.
Bad news, I was 
struck by an intellectual property owner. You know,  
plagiarism done in loose quotes.  
It’s cold indirection (sangfroid),  
but my metabolism really took off, along  
with emotions from a huge songbook  
I’m defrosting,  
‘quote’ watching text warm up with hellbent pleasures  
refined by distance; since  
it’s none of the above ‘end quote.’ This could be for you now.
’Recursive perception‘ —  
For your birthday (bleak as mine, too) I came straight from the agency, this text’s agility welded to the dirty space in which I wrote “Potential as Pretext in Recursive Perception and Action,” which seemed all I wanted to think of, ambiguously, in pastels. 
It was everything.
Poetics process stuff. Ketchupy
The coast is never clear, fat boy... 

A whole new side to nuts & tightening bolts, narrow & soothing in the center, along with holding on 100% — inflatable as you lay back in a blank whisper, clear in the nick of it.


— since we polished the text, handed it in, don’t expect me after all.

Even if we kiss later, it saddens me to inform the boss
You’re not serious, never are.

Like you we’re turning state’s evidence holding on to meet
                          even newer phenomena (‘stolen parts’
To run over) any & all mayhem coming unannounced (achieved)
Or some won’t since you and I separate thru equal flexibilities —

Already saying goodbye takes us far up the jet trail! quelling fear of want-
Ing pain. You never can tell. I won’t.
Conditions look gray — wanting you (I do), profane,
not out of calculation — how far & vast connivance
liberates us to oppose purring put aside.

In a fair coin flip, you
and I are leisure-loving. Nature’s doing.
It’s that easy
and so great I’m leaving you
my saddle in your extrication from hallucinatory delirium ..

Tho you’re still standing up front, in legacy jeans, what nature calls
trafficking with fog to bequest lilac-dark in the air
along with offshore atmospheres yesterday and the day before.
140: Winter ahead, wise and cruel. Sooner or later. Should I grow mad?
In sleep even a con anarchist gets seasonal immunity. 
Going wide, this is mad — better it were more bad news washing over time under preseason wraps. 
Snow even now is a leading surprise.

(Slanderers are believed. I didn’t know I’m a novice enthusiast, the tongue-tied manner of my wanting pity.) 

Should I despair? Relax.
It’s snowing, nothing personal, wafting like winter foam over my awesome hamlet — 

Further out the world is blown up with descriptors peeling off like spiders hustling always. Faster.
Attention, drudge.

As you advance, there are four surveillance cultures from which to plagiarize any response, while materials become more complex, building on what’s been put on record.

Is that all you’re having for dinner?

One will need a clearer message for individual agency. There’s no humor in discretion. Winin your hair makes us sick.
We can provide hacks for frenetic formality. And when you come to a three-syllable term you don’t know, you can apply your manual dexterity to nab the one-syllable crib.
Aw, come on, try an exercise in subject-mood agreement.
Then Alexander went over blabbing to his dark lady, oh, I’ll steal what thou bequest because we can blow hot and cold here, there. We’ll call it modern English.

Not being English or Alexander I can’t add much. The ache of summer is palpable, and night is falling as snorts of derision dampen my naïve representation of democracy.
Attention, drudge.

As you advance, there are four surveillance cultures from which to plagiarize any response, while materials become more complex, building on what’s been put on record.

Is that all you’re having for dinner?

One will need a clearer message for individual agency. There’s no humor in discretion. Winin your hair makes us sick.
We can provide hacks for frenetic formality. And when you come to a three-syllable term you don’t know, you can apply your manual dexterity to nab the one-syllable crib.


Thanks to strong interference we accept multiverses.
It’s like saying pardon me to a wave in 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 other lives. 

I never imagined keeping count of waves.
I need to ache in their lather, calmly accruing intimacy.
High table sandwiches.

Platterpus, the cough, the kiss —
Justice w/ passion, seltzer

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

I kept going, barefoot & outdoors

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 & I forget big words —

under whose thumb might this be? This decimal nook

is a stretch of dark matter — Careful! 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 steamy look,

heated, promoting sea plankton. Bookmarks aren’t supported.
Sonnet 119: Software permeates adolescent philosophy. This madder hell points to asphalt perimeters, why error messages commit to wretched structures (applying fear to hopes)
building up un-manacled distraction so amor in the head is amazing, far greater, madder fever!
Some ways syzygy rounds this off in latinate Greek — evil still made better — for amnesia’s fixed width, blessed never, rebuked to our heart’s content!
And ruined, we kept losing, true, losing you .. spent, shaken tame.
It’s open mind month. Didn’t I show you? 
Squatting in nourishing overview, there’s one off color equation 
of a deceptive simplicity 
in love as well as pride, duplicity.  
Creationism = one boyfriend better than others, believing none.   
Separated from a source of meditation, let’s call it, you’d be sad too.  
The source is not sad. One separated from the source is.   
Or of course it’s obvious.  
Sadness is beside itself.

How can I foment your warming
up tomtom heartbeats, migrating
to boundaries by hand
to hand in a laughing matter?

Trick question.
That’s how comedy for squares works.
If it’s a question today,
Tomorrow, what’s the transition?


And do not take poison if you are allergic to poison.
Show more of you.


Pickerel babes greet one another in fluent

Pickerelish. Parents want to lose their young

but can’t, stuck in schools, diagonal 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 inorganic brainstorming

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

Song: If every frontal-ist were interrupted, we’d never get back. 
This is an integument first to seeing speech as transparent. (‘This’  
“is” frontal opportunism.) When you’re young  
nepotism is also rampant in meaning maybe.  
Maybe not as opaque. Ok. I hear voices in the kitchen. My thoughts sneeze in total makeover  
as 'this' recedes — putting it mockingly — heading back w/ nothing to add. 
59: Sonnets are ok, nothing new — going backwards here — 
Let’s vote Labour —  
an ostentatious luncheon in ‘old world’ pensiveness,  
beguiling brainwork, self-admiring praise.  
I might say more, fool my brain mended by you and your composed image but
I stay in character.  
O sure — we’re easily freaked by what antique words 
still dig up and how re-inventions get composed, but we have to keep our wits about us
— looking back under whose  
thumb? And am I yours?
If you ingest grief, parody is aqua foam, orange foam and broken glass. Now I’ve said everything I know about the nostalgia evoked by kissing your foul hand. 
No meditation spanning surfaces of the woods, no 
massage. No favor of bullet points. So
there’s nothing to bifurcate to render your stinking degeneracy. 

May you come down with writer’s block and slump back into your rotten messianic parole.
Here it is. Seth returns as a world-famous impersonator
and hypnotist, but there’s this twist, you’ve been studying
in Europe at the Posh Hairnet Institute.
I like it. Life and death issues. I’ve been abroad.

Comatose in Vienna. Just for a while. Foolproof.

It’s a continental, world weary sleep binge. You’re a trance inducer. That’s it.

I like it.


Tonal jumps signify charity in a spatial
float off...

repurposing one’s alter ego, raising stakes
according to odds makers for daring.

Don’t show us
your simple skill. Make it work.

This is becoming god’s country.
A man in drag wearing a gown I tie.
Your cool red bones,

A cold star, partly the wind,
Your superb gall

And me, my feelings which move in time
While this lowest button erases...

There they go
When you say

Well stay well
Where they rang.

Anima to Anima, you couldn’t be ruder.

I’m not afraid of showing the much simpler, formless, inexact I degrade and dissipate into highly animate raw munition. My fingers are supposed to cohere in two fair hands I cull from hearsay. Raising one exudes only passion, which if you allow I agree with, with intertwined wilderness raising two...
My counselor affidavit registers deficiency in discovery and revolving pretexts. All the same, hunches count. (I’ve always been competing with myself.) 
Surely alter egos bear no responsibility for foundering within the social anomaly of treason.  
Rules commit us. Voters chose Trump. Yet this is the latest case.  Everything I note here is integrated. Remember those days? Remember those databases centered on surplus insertions while John Kennedy sober on the ground kept looking up... (Reminds me when democratic ideals could get by on appearances.)
152: Selfportrait in loving you with hedge clippers in hand, fighting blood sugar.
[Zygotes follow commands. They’re a collective.]
I remember hedges thru 3rd parties, their deep viney-ness.

Sunrise. Whose-ever rhyming system — Uhmms call up homonym oblongs,
Back strings pop into songs. [The RNA of things they seem..]
To enlighten you and me I’m

Mashing oaths to love into phosphate genetic tags, keepsaking your tag, mine, ours, ourselves!
“Stages of violence yearn for a whereabouts.
The sneakiest conditions disperse — thinking of you (did I?)
not out of calculation; it began how far and vast

signals liberate us to oppose lesser facts,” you wrote.
Or plans change.
Without speech, intimacy is peroration.
That’s a normal reduction or formula for my song,
not a word on process.
Jumps to universality mature into familiar splashes of anesthesia: Takes my place being places (an event in tropes) — 

Meantime, we’re here for discovery thru inflection in lap pools of condensed matter from the aquatic world. 
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 sunshine in suspension, ripped, 

Amputated chutes off moisture! 

Grape vines burst out, nonlackluster. Though I love grime, universality’s guilt-
making — Fortuna carrying me thru, unphased: She does this to deplete me of hope. 

1st choice for a sonnet is to solve for x. Be funny and coalesce. 

Dear multiple choices forever: Send a message I can wolf down. Convey a sense of urgency that’s superfluous. Put anesthesia off.


Some had swing..

The scandal passed, hardly worth the coverage,
otherwise excellent. You saw that?
We got back into the van.
Do you own your swarm’s jackets? It seems relevant
if filed haphazardly under the swarming file,

“Single file,” say;
her jaw trembled

while we run the jewels.
Showing results for innuendo: You’re good. Doing this, I offered. Just 
Report to duration centers for the rich for best pricing, unless  
Theft looks better. Go. Fees balanced. Eject.  
Then you told me repetitive motion went further —  
Making money w/out reason is mass  
-ive. After.. surely if that’s the mood, there are vector  
Utilities for expressing wealth after dark..  
Sleep has no idea of here and now when everything is the right answer 
.. all on your check.
122: The longer I live it’s right in front of me, above all, beyond all, your gift within my brain.

There’s a glow in seconds before razed oblivion, fun .. and explosive. Wow.

Or much like staying in the now, yielding thru nature to receive you more, more of you.

An idle life abandoned. I’m forgetting about it. How?
You and I remain beyond date and time in my heart and brain. I won’t be funny or make a stab, score or tally... I’ll subsist to import your love into me .. Again.
One had the idea surviving —  
vibrant feelings on a moving day,  
a day washed in over time — (if we need one).   
What does one need now and for what?    
Does it matter, that light and grey question?   
Do you test, tease, defame among the best?     
I ducked your punch, closed the distance.   
I told you, no, I have to bolt. And add a second one.
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.


With every rallentando I feel cleaner, more nondenominational than ever.
Now a little drunk I look up at elm crocuses fighting odor, climbing a trunk.
Its heirs apparently. I feel cleaner with you. Clearer as 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 retested for flu ...
You and I in slow, we hope, radon decay
Torched with prayer. Or thereabouts.
$ transfer: I’m sleep.
An only hill / a huge stage
I’ve been searching
Awake most nights, debates that decay:
A clean face in the morning − caped
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light, the best

When I perceive dogs and woods in salt air
Together, like them and like us.
Can you dig stillness? Can you keep an eye out, the ocean over.
69: Kind eyes are deeds,  
a part of you all the world sees  
and views with a backup group of souls watching you even now 
crowned in tawny daybreak synthetic light,  
with measured accents on seraphic white.  
Both our hearts will mend, thus we loiter intently.  
We smile, neither laugh. We’re extending our
praise looking into bare truth farther than the eye shows  
And finding our love in the outward beauty of your mind.
Squandering the opportunity —
I didn’t have to what the hell?
Living requires
alternative means for the puzzled trot,
the smell of being in a raw shoot from every progressive angle.

I'm winding into a reliance on hardworking pleasures, broccoli, incense
and venue rumbles, open plans, open slots
just turning up.
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 —


Trixie, again, leaves for what was once a 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.

Last point, 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. 

That thar 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.
I have decent rooms and vegetarian board. Living large is an art prepared without a couth manual. I hope you’re both open to a former way of life stocked with interfering colorations of air as in a plush, intimate drawing room augmented with coarse bouquet. Like Elizabethans, say, we would see there were lots of tulle and offline making of amends. Music sounds on alert changing uniforms for the weekend with some breathy, lithe, spooky edge.
95: Hidden pretext takes over. A story of dispraise, an ill report but in a kind of praise per the report.

What would be less fantastic? An enclosure of stainless vice. A full shelf of great privileged, lascivious plans.
Naming your name tells the story. How sweet — you’re every blot and sin in one, preached against, but seldom commented on against ill odds, for shame. One spots your pieces of sporting nonsense, beauty’s manly tongue negated, verbs rounded off randomly, veiled, knifing my love out..
New day! Matins yet ghosted, Starsky’s tongue in my ear
& all the bobwhites in Appalachia hush... off

& then — second — noise
of collared, greening hospitality where Hellenic

banter might calm a tax credit havoc.
                           Third, I stay nonprofit
worshiping everything that belongs.
All else is stress related.
Realizing my dream performance in “Fidelio”
I am touched by everyone now alive,
softest jazz, lower right, your lips moving up, down,
talking design shit. Someone’s naive mirror sale, for example.

Someone’s book is staring out the window, saved-up.
So, with regard to static and its ovular window, stasis —
it’s not who grinned first that counts, but also where
and however. That’s my middle point for the interim,

realizing my dream performance in “Fidelio.”