10/19/21

Fungibly discerning not wishing to die holds a semantic randomness, otherwise empty space.

There’s señor that needs you. He has no interest in real physics... I wonder if that’s true — Our thoughts knitted together like mica piling up, shouts ricocheting through voice tracks from the underbrush holding our breath, bounced, kicked and gloved by catalysts.
Not a koan
(how could

it
be un-impaled?)

— Religious type, agnostic,
both listened to reason while a temple friend sliced
off a nipple. It was the middle way,
enlightenment so simplified, you can spell it out.
Lightning over fog. Over ravines. Knower and the known, all branches, all matter — an open-miked state of big joy, electrons.

A sweet industrial morsel went for all 3 doors assuming no threshold ahead where materiality can’t exist. No dissonance, no interruption.

These could be so

as Buddha and Buddhists are only disparities.
89: In relation to conflicts over scale, the big guy and I want to inspect what you and others say.
Truly offensive, maybe. Like so many others, I’m fixated on war, warcraft, loss of democratic principles and governance procedures —

Dealing in procedures again, only this time writ extremely large. The writ carries a stark reference to the last liberal prime number among us, John Rawls, but how wrong, inarticulate and superficial to bring him up this way. I’ll disgrace myself if you don’t tell me to change.

And speaking of inarticulate, I’m conflicted about criteria for justice, I have questions how these may apply to our acquaintance and your strangleholds now ...
Anyone can wish for ‘portal trans specificity,’ Me? I replace all the markers to get inside a face. Your face. Your brow sports a few layers of sleep relief, accruing intimacy. Meanwhile we form a new team on portal strategy, yielding larger holds on dispossessed cynicism...

10/18/21

Strategists at the barricades have been taking icky notes as the weather cooperates,     
  
Where reputations precede character, the posterity of apprehension remains.       
  
Who will advocate for peace to empower heavy sleep & exchange?     
For example.   
{most- 
Ly random swagger for the catch —   
Qualified} crew enforce sampling  
Coerced by the life of the owner’s party speaking.
Top of one o’clock — 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. No matter. 
It feels like impossible.  
 
Likely, shhhhh becomes welcoming  
hands that boss, get it done legally — 
 
parliament  
maneuvers. Explanation intact.
5: No remembrance now. Of confounding beauty. Of your lovely gaze where beauty dwells. 

Once I played a stealth painter portraying sweet, bare women and men. Subjects were mostly strung out on sofas — big, jaunty shapes who swaddled their inner pooch — gentle work but yes I loved you better frosty / lusty!  

I was framed by approaching you in summer, distilling pulverized, liquid dots
— a pointillist prisoner doing time, 

never resting, pent in by tyrannical daylight that still excels in leading us on —
Kites: pinky juicy crisp
Space parlance —

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

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

Pearls — trance police, a hex video
On top various under-invented heights.
Yes, I’ve recently incorporated; the firm makes me feel yes! you are more melted into tomorrow’s borrowing high, mighty simplicity. Like when a spelling bee hints at a pattern to teach reform, pushing a path open. 
 
Pull it together, a life that’s sustainable you can just make up. (You are under a firm obligation.) This is a real company. We call her Cathy.  
Or this has nothing to do with  
walking away earning a higher degree,  
‘mountains feel empty’ / they’re  
rude — here is where the cards you squirt help.   
 
And there you go, retreating to that panoptic middle deck where you discover almost the same variations. You’ll have to choose the Non-Group taking part in the landing, staying cool to outlast time. When this is tomorrow.

10/17/21

Top of one o’clock — 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. No matter. 
It feels like impossible.  
 
Likely, shhhhh becomes welcoming  
hands that boss, get it done legally — 
 
parliament  
maneuvers. Explanation intact.
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-in-already silence ..
This one is what then? ‘“One’ more piece of funded solidity.” Solidity, not for those who have no more.

My quandary repeats another wish never fulfilled as you and I round off contrasting demands of flimsy seriality and sequence, conquering death with abundance.
12: This is a fugue in your full name..
we’ll talk this time.. talk bristly.

We won’t count the hideous, silvered clock — how telling in its barren prime..
Yes, we’re spry in our bravery, our spring movements and motives, agile yet underhanded
getting back to catch the hang of how time gives and takes.

You may notice we’re defenseless, forsaken, since we must go on, borne
regardless, dead wives girded up in sheaves, older men on biers with white, bristly beards.
Any time today then subject to fast change
as sweets and beauties are disarranged —

Never saw them coming, old and new succumbing to murder and death — but not here, with you —

We brave you more, questioning you as if we will never waste our time through summer,
your beauty growing so well now into the future..
Very good, Jack. We were going over some numbers, audience shares, I mean maxims, and...
I would like to voice concern about poetry / critique spiraling out of control...

Look, I’m filling out forms by the nightstand.
The point is I’m not writing anything “garbage-y.”

Not
anymore.

Don’t be silly, Jack. You are daytime poetry.
That’s cruel, Rabbi, very cruel.

10/16/21

Taking on a dominatrix. Matins.

Sweaty in bed, fountains, aqueducts..
Above the clouds, would you like me to exhibit agitprop cruelty for our audition? Giving up is a gamble, a bet gone bad in your case.. finding my cause I can’t honk loud enough about the importance of deception, glimmers of withheld affection empire states high, taking on a dominatrix.

And leaving you still alive in many forms, all human.

(I’ll end this as a Euro emigrant without you.)
Here I am as genealogies of sophists file off.  

Rebuilding our democracy requires transitive honor tied to esthetics that numb.   
 
I am the underdog here, emotionally maligned, an amalgam “I” and “am”..
My own revels and syntheses meet me halfway in assault value.
Is this a document or did I make it up? Photons rebuild the world, leaping out of windows 
Moving in our direction with startling humility and alacrity.. 
Here I am as genealogies of sophists file off.  

Rebuilding our democracy requires transitive honor tied to esthetics that numb.   
 
I am the underdog here, emotionally maligned, an amalgam “I” and “am”..
My own revels and syntheses meet me halfway in assault value.
Is this a document or did I make it up? Photons rebuild the world, leaping out of windows 
Moving in our direction with startling humility and alacrity..  
 
133: My strategy is sweet sleep until we wake.

Who’s calling?
Your friend is coming. Must I abandon myself? then my next self? both appear wounded players, both slaves, both to slavery?

Who can say? Twice or say thrice double crossed and, again, — it’s not enough to torture me alone —
Engrossed, I can hear my friend’s heart groan as if in jail, double crossed — pent up cruelty that’s iterative, baroque:

As if out of time Couperin sprawled with the naked around Antoinette.

But let’s be rigorous now and agree while we’re in prison I am in you. I am yours by force.

And I keep you in my heart on guard of you and for all of you in me.
Commune-wide, Kung-Fu’s math disappears like factions of perplexity —

Defining angst beats up indulgence. 
You knew the side effects — 

Internal ‘gears’ regulate caution, rushing in nauseous effects, which are natural for you, to your wordsmithy advantage,

No substitutes for new meanings have been approved. Staring into the candle you start to think, 
This is warm beeswax, hardly a domain for definitions. 
Our crash test is named Defens(c)e of Double Identity.  
 
Of course. You.. your desire and I were (are) habits of empire living off the clock, off proceeds, motion futures of one of each you / each of you.   
 
The world-without-end news is those who are pro-slavery rue property, nonphysical property. 
It’s feasible if you keep watching the clock on board one’s auto-bio.

10/15/21

Here I am as genealogies of sophists file off.  

Rebuilding our democracy requires transitive honor tied to esthetics that numb.   
 
I am the underdog here, emotionally maligned, an amalgam “I” and “am”..
My own revels and syntheses meet me halfway in assault value.
Is this a document or did I make it up? Photons rebuild the world, leaping out of windows 
Moving in our direction with startling humility and alacrity..  
 
A nonreligion of eternal cold, a High Service
Sung along both coasts:
Our people are what makes us / great.
Love and heritage go down together.

The last nonpoem eases down 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. Then shatters.
The taking of whatever works to swat the hand that feeds them,

Sharpening endurance,
Risking focus.
A nonreligion of eternal cold, a High Service
Sung along both coasts:
Our people are what makes us / great.
Love and heritage go down together.

The last nonpoem eases down 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. Then shatters.
The taking of whatever works to swat the hand that feeds them,

Sharpening endurance,
Risking focus.
I’m right beneath my shirt. Sort of a theory laden species.  
What if there’s a non-theist way to prepare, provide? & what  
if we’re both wrong, but less wrong than who?  
 
Let’s keep to federalist motives, far from fashion simplicity,
& let’s live together at night while we impel  
 
malfunctions that blurt out permissions extemporaneously,  
licenses to re-authorize no god’s sorrow over death.
I remember looking up at at the music itself, feeling
we live in a debt growing country.
Maximum restraint = knitting your own brow.

Then let me pull an invisible to the eye hair off your blouse. Blousy
threads & too much sex belong in one pile.
It’s a good look except for soy containers suspended from a branch bow: cowslips
& top limbs drooping synthetic blood over your chest ::

When stairwells mesh & go nowhere either side
between you & your affection, let’s hang in for a while.
Hang our names in artificial druthers.
72: When love is missing, shame is worth nothing. .
You devise virtuous lies (dear love) .. I picked that up, false, smug, cute. .
a braid of welts around your neck. .
My name is buried where my body is. .
the body I pray you love.. ..
.
I’ve just noticed you haven’t praised me, imparting nothing, Gabby. .
Let’s pronounce your true love untrue. Make it count. .
Tho even in this I fear sarcasm.
A nonreligion of eternal cold, a High Service
Sung along both coasts:
Our people are what makes us / great.
Love and heritage go down together.

The last nonpoem eases down 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. Then shatters.
The taking of whatever works to swat the hand that feeds them,

Sharpening endurance,
Risking focus.
More breaking news, I was 
unfriended 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 freezing,  
 
‘quote’ watching text spin like sentience  
refined by distance; since  
it’s none of the above ‘end quote.’ This could be for you now.

10/14/21

Often my partner sits in a fortress, deliberately passive-aggressive like any fool.
I’m kidding. Even alone.  

In our farewell, as I see it, our descendants build a museum to spy
on
us & others. They look great — stomping out corners. That’s their

moonlight, indispensable today for smearing glows


down walls that follow a trajectory
aimed at each atom of both of us in maroon cords.
Career update: drinking exercises can save us from scrapping the mission (& face off) — Bacchantes are survivors.

Follow the process. Tease near-misses out of explosive dumbness to hole up then expose your ethos without cut-off points where ideas muddle on. (Better to become accoutrement for a mouthful of secondary definitions.) All this in anapest.
This is where I lived until I began to write on spec.
I moved frequently to exhume a favorite idea, absence of no desire, not a disease so much as hope in health, loyalty (for sale) — assuming we understand what’s not right from mission creep.
146: I’m talking to you in American. 
 
The rebel went missing. No more dying then? Not going to lie, I watched us dream in a.i. economics, weeding and planting over a cemetery’s radius, destabilizing temperaments of worms eating itty souls. Body losses. Looters and rhombus-gatherers, all doing their time respectively — great work for the power reserve, cuts straight through the soul’s restructure creating more chopping patterns to abandon like dross.   
Shanghai chips mounted as background to the film score muting key words. The largest source is not Asia in total, but time, so long a lease, epic lost or sums won on slender, empty shots. The 21st century runway and humane instrumentation are redone for open combat. (One reason might be feminists like us are on genome probation.)     
 
Don’t know. Not going to lie. (Ideologues get stuck on last lines.) 
I like it when pros of song dig in and flail. 
That about covers it.  
( It’s that emotional core between personal and pro.)
Becoming free is a moving and intimate aria. (Like “Summertime.”) I got joy. I got sun.  


Gotta run, pros.
Longhand example:

Anguish over a panel about reasoning and not writing anything down, angst in its emptied refraction dancing on a taillight for syntactical beings (in a sentence) on a muddy sidewalk.
So that’s one.

10/13/21

Doomsday Door A or B? Let’s start with an idea that makes us think differently about its components. If you or I have an idea to process a text or, broader, an artifact of value — a central concern subject to critical and conceptual analysis is, how does the processed result change thinking about the process? In other words, does the artifact generate inquiry into both (a) the who, how, when, why it came about and (b) the utility of its replication or adaptation into future results?
I can put a prayer this way.
The color of the spine goes ultimate, high and low, austere yet foreseeable.
And the evaluations are in.

You are part of what we hold.

It’s an argosy of what’s evolutionary before it gets more uplifted.
13: Son, father, if we were only ourselves
we’d bear up against cold instincts..  So
                              hard  
to put back in the valise, bare love. We pirated the code.   
 
I can’t say we did it willingly (signing our leases through dueling storm gusts). In honor? None! 
 
No fuller determination, love, you love no longer than your life in full.
Others like you, mere semblances to me, hold to the same lease.  

You give me sweet forms of love against a certain fall,  
against coming death and barren winter, my love. O you now —
 
Surely you know each of us ‘should prepare’ 
For none but life and love, holders for a full life, eternally in love.  
This tune’s one constant is 
 

a laptop lies naked on my chest.  
Dibs on the effect of my discourse, clammy & pink  

on the brink of aspects vanished in air.  
 

Ideas rather than ‘aspects’ conquer errors 
of the moment lost 
 

more to transports of desire — an ill that’s not  
 
an ill — a gaze upon the sun that leads precisely to a dare, 

not a death sentence.
Criticism “must take a wider horizon of use.” But my notes are lost, colonized with off-rhymes; my lexicon of rhetorical “skirts” wrapped around a few “legs.” 
 
Between a minimum and maximum, 
Buddha retires in expired turmoil. His daybed is in the new office alcove with murals of doves dropping out. His critique has no name; it’s all about listening.

10/12/21

Anchored in the bay I need to remind myself 
Larry 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 to make fitter (more adhesive) decisions for correct behavior.
Fact: eye contact is mostly on the defensive but our strategies around the eyes are consensual. Uncreatured narcosis aggregates, drifting toward humane sense. This is how contingency shows up in prayer, making a pattern to and fro altercations sited within a figure-ground colloquy.
“‘In a way’,” he said, “‘nothing saved me until we ran the gauntlet —’”
115: Devouring you and reckoning.. I love you best, babe. A doubting aspect of my fiction holds. (I could not love you more in the course of altering my accent.) I have no clear incentive to divert, mindless of taking chances, since I’ve already changed through fierce blunt talk — too much talk and I’ve raised a toast to loving you too desperately... The certain madness of it, as my judgment’s grown less certain over the course of a million accidents (how angry rewrite gets, afterward) and how it makes your tan beauty (and me, too) enflamed for pale, poker-faced poets like Rene.
The gist took a slurry, plump, downy evanescing, then it took the elevator. Up buzzers rise above affixes and urgent notation. Helium released — pushed in reverse come fall — trees light up then darken amid writhing worms. Better to heal resentment buried in colossal Orpheus, the un-spontaneous summer physique. With his gift of sullen madness signing everything in burlap, compounded and oncoming in percussive isolation. The upshot. 
Attention.

As you advance, there are four surveillance cultures from which to plagiarize a response, while materials become more complex, building on what’s been put on the 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 just reference your dad’s manual to nab the one-syllable crib.

10/11/21

I feel socialist. Validating market snapshots, optimizing
The practical center
More than any single system,

A huge agnostic discipline
About attitudes behind morals.

You know this open and shut —
Take it down / or thumb thru

The balance left over. Inhabit the brim

To the point you realize
We know now — now less than nothing...
a view down a corridor of great numbers.
Credo:
Misery looks a lot better. Go. Fees balanced. Get out!

Staring at trains’ inhabitants at South Station —
Our blankness fills in family trees offside. After.. there are instrument
Channels (word flares) for composing love. We never saw this before.

Burn,
Suffering coincidence.. you’re leaning into expression muscle, undressed
To hit the meaning of just whose future is come..

To admire oneself, one’s distinction,
There’s a lot more ahead.

Poetry goes thru many drafts.
41: An abstract, pretty temptation below gentle laughter: Ay,
Beauty for your years .. Ah me.

Ah blizzard.

Together, you and I follow a twofold point of wooing / forced absence, but I’m not that far from following your lead and therefore, like you, assailed. Y. Dating youth is tantamount to body snatching, another point. Tempting but false equivalence even there: Y. We chide the other’s choice — where this follows I cannot lead, leaving me in a riot of liberty where you are.
Clay-toned physiques
fighting their relatives, waving, receding on one another

— everybody under an influence indoors, thoughts that are
filled with light, rotating in
reverse as if knowing how to purify their offspring & manage forever
in bionic lurches of nibbling torque .. adjusting ..

You may notice I’m after zest constructing new meanings in your arms, and oomph — one long eyebrow (for wingspan), fuzzy and continuous like our séance now, now in the present that has no update or purpose, just falsetto in your eyes.
An awful virus. Just an excuse.
Rhetoric as privilege dies. 
Came from outer space; was well radicalized before it got here. 

Freer speech in every direction — your known inclination 
for walking strong will accelerate, wild yet tranquil, excused —
ruthless in value, the boundless layers set in funereal trance 
tweeting under the bust of the rhetor, a civil, democratic ideal. 

But no one tweeting lives a commune of ideals. Freedom is personal 

As we go about hungry like other animals brushing up on ideas...

10/10/21

Once your public is mounted on tiptoes you can
add your own awesome content! 

Your first lover, dull, expressionless.  Tho

he could heal you thru ballast. 
Then forces of narrative came
seething, your breath unfixed 

from the floor as it circles midair as if it had a right to. 
Large blossoms are about to push
Also we see their ETA
We won’t be a second late — your ex boyfriends 
understand we can all meet taking on a form of you. 

That’s the gist.
Filming at midnight — kvelling schtick is a tactical concept.
And today’s laughter protocols could not be ‘more serious.’ Except...
It’s been remarkable to gauge how sneering, vaporous, obtruding personalities —
A loose term — proceed un-amusingly
Or even uncivilly in opening salvos. Seems a rehearsed practice, perhaps.

By salvo — the first three or four minutes of monotone in character, in talk and in poems.
You can’t do that up in this film.
So much slobber invested from the start, forced discourse, along with any oomph, runs dry.
35: Your slightly shabby rooms are elegant.

A scent of acacia and soft frangipani, sweet but no trespass at all.

You are triumph.

Don’t sweat over past comparisons. Done. Good-bye.
I’ll muddy up your love of skiing once and your playing chess against yourself, may I?
It makes sense at that, loving you is a civil war — sensual to a fault —

Roses, grieve no more.. nor silver fountains, nor clouds, no eclipses!

Good-bye everything.
                  Far as we got any night they enter,
they appear as though they are with us..
it’s amazing how they simply pass
coming from the history of laughter, radicalized before they got here
                  proceeding within under a bust of John Wieners..
Yes or no in tokens, symbols and their prototypes. Yes or no signs. Yes or no to feuds, grim ball-bearings. Forget but never forget the asseverator’s vulnerability. And yes or no rodent names. No yet also yes to poems scoping life as a masterpiece, addressing a doormat standing an inch off the casing, fourth-up past the itch out of somewhere but nothing like every itch up your sleeve. Yes or no tempo of glyphic turmoil grounded into dotage and torpid incision in not one vowel or all 80 of them — 800 tones, yes or no prophase for pensive description. Morphology covers all bets. Scars are as good as drapery over stays.