3/31/23

There’ll be one execution just in case.
What documents do I need?
I still write poetry. Yet I have no regrets.
I subsist in attrition finding and picking up purviews —
One new standard
remains (that) the first floor is the planet.
Th e enigmatic under one rule are eaten alive by song layouts;
that’s the power of verse syllogisms over life...
The elevated prose idea of August
helps us get through life wellness rooms
circulating a moratorium on error —
so help yourself — April thru July.
There’ll be one execution just in case.
What documents do I need?
I still write poetry. Yet I have no regrets.
I subsist in attrition finding and picking up purviews —
One new standard
remains (that) the first floor is the planet.
Th e enigmatic under one rule are eaten alive by song layouts;
that’s the power of verse syllogisms over life...
The elevated prose idea of August
helps us get through life wellness rooms
circulating a moratorium on error —
so help yourself — April thru July.
The effect is real, real enough
to be defined consistently. One example,

errant is not mistaken for arbitrary. Form follows sentient structure.
In a way one thing’s for keeps.
2 spiral arrays for time & harmony within a philosophy (moving spatial dimensions) several hours forward.

One thing.. is this inference compressing form? a piece of research asks. It’s asking a lot.
51: In motion, no excuses — war is unjust when only one side wages it.
Gleaned from what war is, my desire keeps pace.

I’ll be an angel investor in spontaneity, no need but love, for love.
This is strictly, deliriously our business, self-realized adventure
losing daily battles, no excuses.

What time do you get off work in poetry? Should I know?
Speeding up when swift extremity can seem but slow

I hastened to run toward you
as though mounted within the wind before even starting ..
126: Don’t talk with your mouth full, growing boy. Process self-disrupts into phrases and withering substitutes, fickle process components and stiff, gnomic atmospheres to bring accoutrement to terms, wanting, not waning, to grow! Hold on, hold your lovers there, minutes in pleasure or more! And go on, keep to your purpose, even in power, lovelier.
There’ll be one execution just in case.
What documents do I need?
I still write poetry. Yet I have no regrets.
I subsist in attrition finding and picking up purviews —
One new standard
remains (that) the first floor is the planet.
Th e enigmatic under one rule are eaten alive by song layouts;
that’s the power of verse syllogisms over life...
The elevated prose idea of August
helps us get through life wellness rooms
circulating a moratorium on error —
so help yourself — April thru July.

3/30/23

Whom will we discover? How? 
Do you both laugh? Per rules,  
regs of sounding it out  
it’s overdue.  
You’re back in vertigo  
 
yielding authority with no proxy.  
 
Like a minimalist practicing karate high noon  
: any of your remedy gets exaggerated, desert marsh = a bespoke presence...  
What’s this the (x) about?  
You say yay (for x). 
[Edit, from before..] There’s a mood taking a fall. Euphoria, pinpoints swelling in takeoffs.. We miss the good looking small-town drummers chanting versus, as John Waters writes, “the upper-lower class women from a dark place on a hillside, covering the globe with their comic pedigree. The problem is, did they ever smoke pot? They’re stress-busting purveyors of desolating surfeit, solar decathlons with nothing inside, turning their smiles up. Cue the highlights — this is why space and time exist at all.. made of wriggling strings.. and speaking of the pure land, we have none tho we swim in it.”
51: In motion, no excuses — war is unjust when only one side wages it.
Gleaned from what war is, my desire keeps pace.

I’ll be an angel investor in spontaneity, no need but love, for love.
This is strictly, deliriously our business, self-realized adventure
losing daily battles, no excuses.

What time do you get off work in poetry? Should I know?
Speeding up when swift extremity can seem but slow

I hastened to run toward you
as though mounted within the wind before even starting ..
Stevens would think fabrication cuts off stubs overgrown and outdone as landscape. By design we open our front door and see what politics hasn’t done. The shortest path ignited by havoc, honest and exhausted across the board. From it’s-not-the-same-now to the science of celebration — folks’ betrayal is addictive, seamless abandon. 

That insight gives one the strength to make oneself at home, stay there, yours in ameliorating; one no longer feels naked, no gaps or overlaps in one’s silence yellowing with age; globality is weeping, glowing back and forth mistily across an immense daze, half of it waxing with the plump tessellation adorned along mortal circumstance. 

3/29/23

Anything Apollonian looks flab prone. In sciency prose.
O yup, refusal to arbitrate glamour, okay... we’re done
.. In my half we break laws to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
Either way is fractional in the context / e.r.
In the crazy wild apothecary we call all infinite sets
a rolling surveillance unwraps many poly-essences.

For them, freedom is personal. There’s solid drama down the month of halls,
a binary fission while we’re expecting one new meta-interaction at a time.
Secrets of satire have to float free
Finding an informatics of doors opening (bassoon music) & structured
Lasers, also nanoleaf hexagons (& deep reeds for all-holds sex).
A mold of our dialog is impressed, even as beauty’s struggle over time gets slippery.
Or peach-dreamy, subverting history & waxing satirical, as the poster read, ‘time’ encircled on beauty’s behalf.

Those impressed with strong suspicions talk this way.
50: A hip cast of super angels strumming harps, an encore of Zeus Arrhenothelus

Bringing up larger journeys for the stretch and preen in vigilance onward —
So far the miles to me are measured from my friends and joy left behind.
I fall back tired, breathe while new cast members come on —
They are casually let go as they finish groaning bearing my weight.

Our joy restored at a slight remove from sharp pain and darkness in grief, putting this in mind,
Since we answer to manifold waves that weigh in:

Unprovoked, a heavy vacuum still.. you are away while I am on my way at my travel’s end.
Sobriety, not mine, makes the case for / against tedium in semi-dirge, that is, in the poem-making venture. Boredom? Blame it on our near relatives, the empire-prone who still ride escalators up and down the Radisson close by.

Sociologists are stepping up and nodding off
Under the influence of futon cramps working from home, owing to driving similar vehicles when they have to work
Transporting pouti debs and elephant men,
Dostoevsky wrote.

3/28/23

In my illusion of minimalism = hammering steel, 
I scored a first wormhole on schedule, a hell of a bind. The frayed entity, o  
no, I should say the accretion settled down, humble salve  
soon spread over both of us, lost, scattered into brain memeory trying to remember and   
 
Simply put, trying to find now where early wounds from speech are  
produced, which sort hits or fits most, kind friend .... mimesis within nature,  
uppermost.  
How is sorrow possible, otherwise?
Start for free. Let’s call it bones to pick.. or the end of the beginning.
The front gate still won’t front. Its end (or the front end) is or is not a pity.

How does not knowing intrude on want of liberty?
Once I produce Spot, a dog.. he’ll be playing his surrogate, Spot Two.
Both their microns need a moment before emptied of vague alterations. And now, Three! In no time!

while intrusions encompass all doggie forms freely, coincidentally.

We once thought.
42: What do you need now and for what?
You may ask if I loved you.
Is that my bravo question?
Do you test, tease, defame always to get the best?
I ducked his punch, closed the distance.
My loss is my love’s gain for my sake.
I told him, no, I have to bolt.

Loving offense more, I excuse you both.
A truffle and goat cheese pizza, for all its ambition, feels contrived next to Talking Chimp.
The Talking Mallard Dogs sounded as good as they looked; they learned how to speak for themselves, and they came off so authentic you and your pet would think they were Talking Chimps. But they produced only vowel sounds from a larynx implant device.
Talking Chimp is laughing now unable to stop rubbing down there. Spa services await you, Talking Chimp!

3/27/23

Captain your thoughts
then opt for an Ivy safety
school. Push shyness aside,
spiff up & sign the skee-ball of smog-
sniffing affirmation.
Regulate your embrace multi-nationally.
Es geshah am helichten Tag —

Never feel sorry for some diva
who has brains and eats
them.
Hypoxia — the poor, the lost make us sick.
Ghosts? Zombies? No. That market is unregulated & inefficient.
I put in a skylight instead. For my

Newest apartment, top floor in your building, a small
Bedroom, kitchenette, barely a sitting room with parts of a sectional.
One wall papered cloud patterns, washed grassland, blue woods, lemurs.

Mad in pursuit.
115: Devouring you and reckoning.. I love you best, but. A doubting aspect of my fiction holds. (I could not love you more in the course of altering anything.) I have no clear incentive to divert strong minds. Nay,
mindless myself of taking chances, I’ve already changed through fierce blunt talk — too much talk; I’ve raised a toast to loving you too desperately... A kind of madness profits as our 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) enflamed for pale, poker-faced poets like Rene.
Fun time. Is it time or times?
Personally, I maintain a liberal, apolitical esthetic, one at a time. The fun colony is firmly democratized, sir. Slightly pitched voices from the wraparound porch reach to the sky. The season seems and is interpenetrations of parallel scenery et al running this.

3/26/23

Instructions are errands in advanced circles, to tell or read it as fake v. the real fake sprawl with the naked around Marie Antoinette’s. They were textually modern, respectable Euro folk: They undressed for success

and survival. They avoided careers that were intellectually focused, peering
back and soaking up the city among savages of their own designs.
I’m my own boss.

The flamenco troupe darts of light & sweet algorithms in chunks.

(The subtracted j-walkers return with renditions from a counterculture.)

I’m thinking of giving head, until my spinal column heats up, thinking of you.
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 — assuming we understand what’s not right from mission creep.
41: An abstract, pretty temptation below gentle laughter: Ay,
Beauty for your years .. Ah me.

Ay blizzard.

Together, you and I follow a twofold point of wooing / then-forced-absence, but I’m not that far from following your lead and therefore, like you, assailed. Ay. Dating youth is tantamount to body snatching, another point. Tempting but false equivalence even: Ay. We chide the other’s choice — where this follows I cannot lead, leaving me in a riot of your beauty and my liberty where you are.
Blame for his mockery — Orpheus thought a musician would deeply apprehend radiant, interactive forms (and defects, among a few variants) — soberly, having liberally looked over ornaments of beauty, alert to surface details, part of his work week. It’s all hideously exciting if you’re fair, unstained and the sweetest. 

Justice for all is as the crow flies only made to look uncalculated, seeming so it’s said. Liberty with caution, minuscule, unexciting.. again. 

3/25/23

Hands up.

On the corner of statue and the outer cape, there’s
a beyond just passed an easy show of hands
beyond what we imagined an hour ago (one mild altercation took it
into a shade of de-constraining tease).

A heyday of hands.
Weather permitting, there’s a method to share, an incision. What do you say? Bonne balance, hey my — when you whisper this is both natural and perpetual.
Surely there’s foundering beneath the social parasail of violence. Rules commit us. You grow accustomed, so to speak.
Yet that’s only one worst case — let me give you a short cut, just on the sides. A trim will maximize your signal.
As you noted, integrated on a riddle gauge, and part of the solution when you look off and away.
Sonnet 40:

When you read this, my injury appears prior to who prompts it.
Not you.

We were informed of your deceit in our sleep, a line from Aeschylus.

We’re playing with new features and a few we move in any direction.
But not you.

Take all my loves, my love. You steal from me and vice versa since all of us are in use.
Billions of highly intelligent beings with high degrees of morphic freedom
interest me only so far. More curious is why we approach poetry in English primarily in terms of understanding it.

As though propositions and semantics were key to poetry’s necessities.
Not you.
Sonnets are sizably ok —
Let’s get through
any ostentatious breakout from pensiveness.
Your lab door is open.

Lab animal overboard!
Freaked by what lunch with you
means and does, you’re under whose
thumb? Handsome, on the other hand
your partial mind is a floating
weapon. That’s why this syntax
can relinquish human polarities
as sonnets set traps..

throbbing red traps, another the color azure, bright, digestible.
They just coincide.

3/24/23

I’m not afraid of dealing in the formless inexact I wave and dissipate into highly animate raw munition. My hands are supposed to cohere in what I cull from hearsay. Raising one hand exudes some passion, which if you allow I agree with, with intertwined wilderness — raising two, a wretched misdeal.
You are part of what we hold. And the evaluations are in. Justice, liberty, rule of fitter enablers to soften the grid... The air fills with top results we can pin on like tendrils. And you can use them later, maybe on blind dates. And this is not a test. Every utterance is a collaborative impulse passing from desolating satire : even while little consonants in your throat falter, you’re holding firm. It’s an argosy of what’s evolutionary before achieving insight.
69: Kind eyes are deep deeds,   a small part of glamor all can see,   along with a backup watching you move   in tawny synthetic light.. daybreak.   We smile, neither laugh, extending our praise, looking into glamor farther than the eye..     Questions of where, when we’re all right in love.
Sundial-changing give-and-take contests a thousand bees stinging our feet
— after we improvised the text and handed it in. The theory here,

pleasure is to ethics as Spode is to gastronomy

while across the terrain a recurring nightmare, film tunnels’re lifting wax paper (in wind) when the water is abusive — yet all ends adaptively.

The strategy is
like any landscape, wait for mistakes (1) and (2) pounce.

3/23/23

Worth repeating.



We weren’t orphaned, we decided not to get re-elected to you
as concurrence will proliferate out to here if you try,
if you have the confidence ..
We wiretap the secrets you weigh —

Total lunacy.
On the other hand, I can’t forget this is for you now.
Enjoy your revisionist’s views
moaning about diffusion at any cost,
any cost to render your mouth a submersive mess.
I believe I can see into the future.
There is a civilizing process to space
entered into by spotting it first. It’s
a clear new world where character
offers liberation, supports you
from underneath. You
can go right in. They have an
open table. Everything on sale.
112: Do you like spiral staircases, scandals that strive to branch out to the un-alive, an abysm? 
Facts there are a marketplace whose figures look young and green when least derivative. Volatile objective content triumphs. Right or wrong it’s kind of a snob racket (Charles B).   
 
Our nervous system can distort music in an adder’s sense, Charles might say, to emphasize changes in people who are snakes, radial evil neglected by the super ego. B is for Bukowski. 
It’s about time for the moody and unexpected.  We mosey back to right about where we want clarity about motives.  We’re in no hurry.  Snow and sun? We’re expecting something.  Ice or melt go missing but not lost.  The reader note went on, One afternoon while relaxing one poured over a confusional book. It reads we are at the dawn of epistemology raising consciousness we can’t get from career studies alone. It continued, the mood wobbles. It does. It vibrates. But nothing’s lost that’s unexpected. It’s about time.

3/22/23

I picked up in a flier my soul is a hypothesis. Since the soul thrives in new enterprises and ecologies, you and I begged its wiggly self to swim further and stick with a sublimely experimental school of thought, to rally for more than this textual ceramic holding sprays of looking glass.
Sudden lightning over fogs of drizzle. Over ravines. Knower and the known, all branches, all matter — 

You and I went for all 3 doors assuming no threshold ahead where materiality can’t exist. No dissonance, no interruption.   
 
Three ways could also be the middle,   
 
since Buddha and Buddhists are different things.
Something came up. Anthropomorphism.
What’s not mentioned expanded underground.
This is as lightning gains on fog. Lightning ‘understands’

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

How is it fire tears up senseless atoms in sparks fog glows around

and falls out with grey streaks that look glazed and remedial —

I have the same trouble when I shop for trafficked facts on sale.

Our uncertainty principles, you see, are confused by prior understanding.
85: It takes substance and breadth; the going price of unlettered, brusque desire

(a rare cigarette case, may I?) looked after in coded forms and knots...
No thanks. Just piano and voice. Piano and your voice... Or let’s
Practice being still. (The high meal.) Inductions to other habits — hearing your breath,

I think speaking, in effect, projecting dumb ideas.

The woven haze drags down sculptures of floppy appeal

Like light praise warmed over by spinning in “Amen”

— I cannot phrase scents of snow, sunlight and your utter loss

— my tongue tied crying, folding you into thoughts.
To be unmarried
Where the sky went:

There’s a bright debate — where eager heartbeats bore in, grateful prenuptials stampede out,


Drawing youthful bounds along dark zones of propaganda

And owing to your interest… this won’t constitute a holy date or sacrament. Or only one of many as notated by back-up flutists.

My terms are to settle down through the evening. Your proud examples
Gain longterm advantage spreading the plan. Imprisoning refinement.

3/21/23

A trivalent bond forms at birth that delays our death.

I won’t do your religion, good day.

Just piano and voice. Sunken gardens with a fountain of moods dedicated to each of four graves.

There are two ambient music cartels as well — both striking with all their operatic powers. De rigueur for now is writing over injury to outrank others amid the trivalence of thieves.
I wish you had taken that job singing of thingness, you and he.  
Even so, if you could eat only one food for life, what would it be? “Take notes,” you said. You were holding back first throbs as you forced mine from the inside.     

I miss the walled city where he looks up when you arrive at this next step . .   

Try to remain calm. I’m going to talk you down. 

We’ll take the stairs; the elevators refuse to go with folks in them. (Ok, you there? Bye.) 
Men and women are spangled with sugar, genetic machines. That was at the start. We know that. Taking chances put us in this lissome interpretive state (birth). Function varies widely. Lilac is a favorite zest. Again. After aging it’s fodder beets, watching what we can.. something real or unreal as a freshly poured sidewalk. By design, all utterance up is for sale. We’re delighted in our forties and fifties, illicitly relaxed, every core opens like in a ribbon vex, flying, bracing an intense ride.
Sonnet 93:

Better to live more as love may near
— supposing I’m in many ways a deceived husband. So?

A coterie of enablers cooperates fully. For both of us,
a love interest is altered to look calculated.

For there can be no hatred in our eyes.
Tho, facing true love, the early light seems to
Urge us to go out, rehearsetoo much and get wasted, frowning, growing moodier —
Eve’s apple was Adam? One love’s face? Or another’s? You and I cannot know.

What have we if our heart is in another place?
Her evolution springs from prior copies. 
Petunia Pig. Premiere then curtains.  
 
Childhood runs out, our taxonomies still  
unexplained as temp permits.   
 
We loved the pig’s attitude, her trafficked facts, but  
we fear anti-humanist divas like her, 
wound up in her senseless atoms packing uncertainty principles —  
Just the tips loaded 
...you know what I mean standing up there, promoting pap acceptance.. You’re a diva in fact with nothing to co-defend, not mad enough, feeling too little.

3/20/23

An outline of foreign service starts at once, as its top ashes flow upwards, looking sketchy as well as appealing to tastes abroad. I hope all are happy. Don’t be sad. Bag a good one. 

My foreign friend flicks on the sunlamp
to countermine zooms.
Her neck and collarbone are burning
to show their softness. Her hair seems partible
emitting an innocence that lasts.
That’s an outline. 
Voices in funnels, a trickledown of some futurity,
Dropping my sights — now, they’re rising
— this is the fastest way to earn points. And yet
We’re surrounded by a new opening line:
We write for children, progeny. So
Forward, a debit resonance favors our successors —

We’re nothing but voices that bell without simple words at the moment.

Simple makes a difference, please, make us an offer
As Baby Wateau vanishes
& the cake sale flags — vanished out of memory & sight as I am now.
89: In relation to conflicts over scale, the big guy and I want to inspect what you and others say.
What have you got to lose?
Truly offensive, maybe. Like so many others, I’m fixated on the guy, on war, warcraft, loss of democratic principles and governance procedures —

Dealing in procedures again, only this time they’ll be writ 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 any justice, I have questions how these may apply to our acquaintances and the Supremes’ strangleholds now ...
By not struggling with comparative 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.

3/19/23

Just imagine what you can do with the Flex Seal family..
Then. This is a formlet of propositions. Like digital vinyl or handshake web painting. Or prayer warriors that are non-contagious. Then I stumble over the “highbrow posturing” and “chin-stroking art crowd” noted by Nate Harrison. Harrison chronicles how the Winstons’ original drum sequence, the Amen Break, from the 1960s has been copied over decades, sampled by 80s hip hoppers, and those samples diced and re-arranged by jungle-djs in the 90s. By the late 90s, dicing / re-arranging might be pushed to extremes, undanceable “fetishisizations” for chin-strokers — Harrison cites Squarepusher, for instance. I wish you didn’t invite tradespeople over to the house.
77: You and I view love as a print-out in eternity:
We live here, in a time share for printing out our stealth, your voice,
Your beauty’s imprint.
We just saw (a few feet minutes from now, however)
your address changed. We could have done it differently before
you discovered the user charts; the parent company was yours even before you took over.

You’re not going to be delirious are you?
Just for a patch of language..? good for you —
taking me from sleep where I rewrite chain letters you refuse to answer...

Good for you!

3/18/23

Time runs out. 
I stay in position, authentic / inauthentic;  

I model your attitude and your facts  
yet  

fear overextending them if  
or when —  
This is when —  
Huh? Now you know I did it.  
I wish I hadn’t / I wish I didn’t.  
Poetics, a subset, off that, of epistemology,
We like newness in a way when both leave things as they are. Like no use,
how I graduated from this shame of ours, this pride in us
in the battle between sexes? Therein the rich won.
Can you place our names? I have a full canoe of alter-egos, asides and decorative indeterminacy.
Without hat, I got to anticipating mind control as disingenuous.
102: You’re the matter at hand merchandized within rotations from green hues perpetual to earth.

You’re asking a lot.

Still our love is new.
Well, most of these “notes” are literal, based on trying to sit down [starting to sing] “Baby, you’re still the matter.”

The access air of inevitability around more advanced codes shattered. I hold my tongue. Shattered seemed inauthentic in a merchandised sense. You are more than a song of sex. You’re holding me, the middle of the throat..

I kiss the air. This.
Over the spring and summer construction advances.
Uncivil also true, summer advances, supreme over the construction.
Everybody goes!
... inevitably constructivist and supremacist impulses are joined.

3/17/23

Hey Blob. I’ve misspelled a sign celebrating gaps in fair use praxis, and there’s a connection to that same eggy lights-out factory area, an eyesore we dreamed up or could dream up. Inside there’s little agency, no intervention, only stripes of ideas multiplying in the dark, increasing inventory, keeping faith from their orientation, mining the richest veins, designing solid, stoic codes that trigger stern satisfaction dawn to midday, they think: so many infolding explosive arcs of constructs up they flare into aqueous shimmer! Shimmer is the word. It felt so good to close down a wide sector of the critical imagination, ethos, and move nowhere collectively, a function of a huge leftist irony aggregation org. Any misspelling is up to Fidelio, and from there you and I can move forward and back to connect blobby times with better fair use, keeping faith to encompass my naïve expertise.
Here’s one’s take on getting back together. It’s one part
to tensive healing (a method) stitched to transparency (washes of shadow)
& aspected by hedges, mostly. To go on shifting subjects
— I whisper to you, falling myself for recovery —
panicked a zillion light seconds soon — too late thinking literally
in compliance w/ odds off bets already placed... wherein
chants, conflicts w/ breakfast, proverbial laughs, even laughs:

Nobody totally killed it. The bonuses were not reneged-on. It’s
not that large an irony tho the freehold repaired to is offered only in over there or ‘thereabouts’ patterns...
76: In flight, the framework is told on telling. 
How can verse expend tribute? How spent? Why?    
 
This café, I think, is going to try to answer that & help the rain stop falling on our wet skin.   
I know the framework around my notes craves attention, that’s why I always write to you.   
Why I finish a stretch and new and old lines get confused, showing their new birth.
 
Fuse the way they
Continue as light rain clears. My argument.
A poem is.. 
Does it matter a few minutes ago I learnt to write (if not well).  
To tap on the keys and wander out above our welcome in a retrospective..   
 
Again there’s no title because nowhere  
Are my thoughts so hidden in use.  
 
It’s a contraption. But that’s required.

3/16/23

I thought we wouldn’t get back to sleep.

Dawn. 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.
Waking up, hay-feverish, stuffed-up nonphysical servings
standing off
from having hay fever as a backdrop — nothing
hidden, nothing.
We leverage our last minute or two deeply missing you. There you are! Nothing
to explain ignition inside a more collaborative framework.. 

Adoring you as a full service enterprise assumes a moral politics where clouds of electrons follow us into a manner of simple orbit.
80: ...cross-pollination of English and psychology wracks up a revitalizing boundless deep. I’ll assume you suspect I faint when I wrote this. Situationists use the shallowest fare and re-chart it onto subterranean literature. When I write about you, I’m in worthless sympathy, humbled and worse, tongue-tied while I try a couple of poses —Ha — there are great benefits spent by proud, broad-minded recruits afloat, ocean wide! Wouldn’t you know they are in an infinite series in the history of fame and naval bavardage. (Or from another angle they are the series — teasers as well as the teased but goodly proud, cast away.) Ha.
Back home we have Romulus and Remus. Appetite and style — 
these guys work the night shift thru classicism, romanticism too. Appetite  
includes style but style directs taste, other pretenses of appetite.  
A she wolf looks after style.   
 
I never use that word now. 

3/15/23

Wool flowers
Are harsh.

Ducks flying down
Splash some roots..
They are flattened grey
Popping on mauve

As kennel light
fences the barks

Yet impassioned so
Nowhere

Wind-
In-tent-flap sounds.

I count 9 windows in the dark.
Here.
Sweeping reductions were next. 
One pleasure then is borrowing sentences to cut your rent.  
 
The previous owner told us to cut it all off, gave us gobs of cash  
and that led to holding our share of a volatile  
 
augmented beyond constraint, driven  
 
by the smallest shift in feeling you all over me at the lunch counter.
31: You remind me of lovers gone. A morning crew, weathermen
Waving arms over their forecasts in endearing hidden patterns —
This was their 1st stab at tantrics, due many now.
They merited love trophies — yours alone now, all yours.
You have all of mine.

My tears buried viewing you. They’re inside you,
Removed, disguised as glare hung from all-in loving you.
The tallest paintings remeasure your height.


Painting ideas.



You had heard critics for hire eat accelerated paintings stretched onto canvases of different sides, gloomy jigsaws, severed threads, sticky placards in paint that’s a full view emaciated into planes of junk, splendor, restoring emptiness.
Painting double quotes. 

3/14/23

You and I go over the graphemes. I also was thinking it’s hard for us to get foreign sports equipment or a new license without indices of suspicion and objurgating.
If you agree, I’m happiest procrastinating. We’ll have a pleasant sencha. It strengthens our attention for doing so little.

Random influences could fill in our cancelled checks. Filling in on stretched hills, cute and cuter butterflies having at butterflies, why?
I’m fifteen. We can do the roundtable math rather well, yet not entirely. Free-range sunlight in the clerestory of our lair... where elements of bloodthirsty aplomb are obsessively off-key. Safety in timing carefully disguised as bright and furious, knowing the advantages waiting a beat.
I’ve good news in bed. (But) I’m getting ahead.

Can you clarify why? For what party in sleep?
126: Don’t talk with your mouth full, fair one. Process self-disrupts into phrases and withering thought substitutes, fickle subcomponents and stiff, gnomic atmospheres to bring all accoutrement to terms, wanting, not waning, to grow! Hold on, hold your lovers there, minutes in pleasure or more! And go on, keep to your purpose, even in power, lovelier.
Vainly but not fast in never induce italics: 
We gave at the Office.  
 
This is hardly ever for the 1st time  
disappearing in molecules like other words, just modulations ago.
Modulating the self comprises an apotheosis 
according to types of daring.  
 
Don’t smolder, show us.

3/13/23

Leave everything : down, self.
Prune leave less, some more:
our night still external, vanished cloud
odor..

Leave everything :
while we go uprooting.

I have to take you —
months & years
with the slow ones.
There are no pleasure substitutes, after all. 
The defrayed honeymoon can last, and it’s normative, blushing with its song of guts and neurons spinning bottles —   

There’s no hurry.  
 
After a honeymoon deflections accrue to go on.
59: Sonnets are ok, nothing new — going backwards here — 
 
Let’s vote Labour —  
an ostentatious luncheon in ‘old world’ pensiveness,  
beguiling etiquitte, self-admiring praise.  
I might say more, fool my brain, the one mended by you and your composed image but
I stay in character.  
 
More sure — we’re easily freaked by what antique words 
dig up and how re-inventions get composed, still we have to keep our wits about us
— looking back under whose  
 
thumb? And am I yours?
I can’t get into specifics,
because it’s nonverbal, a compromise.
I know I’m next, flapping my arms in front of me.

Maybe I’m afraid of being abducted.

At the top it’s shrew pink and all mapped out. So I’m ready.

3/12/23

There are faith that’s gone on & consequences. There comes an enrollment point you caught your waxwork hologram in a partner’s eyes. 
Ventriloquating is something.  
No one’s favorite word yet — nice aftershave, Rene  
..I got wind of it & put you in —  
Can you be “quoted” in any meaningful sense?  
We have two arrays for time/money & harmony:  
 
The ass comment — I know you meant juniper  
within a philosophy (in movement thru spatial dimensions)  
(& the aura of a scent) forward! 
 
Draft 12
Falsehood is an actuarial stat, just one anto
-nyms assimilate since you haven’t countered anything to colleagues wearing thar reflection, giving in, doing nothing with shades over your face...
54: You’re back!

Truth is, we cave wantonly to your lovely odor (fairer in our forgetfulness).
O wooed rose!
Before they were living within you — and like you — perfumes were of dark matter, unmasked buds that distill a civilizing beauty far ahead of summer’s space

Filling our eyes with sustained disassociation.
Falsehood is an actuarial stat, just one anto
-nyms assimilate since you haven’t countered anything to colleagues wearing thar reflection, giving in, doing nothing with shades over your face...
Frame: A diminished mood will be buoyed by scatterings of photos and books, many unread. Cast more atextual sources our way as fodder for your new faculties for text, new ontological components for bringing up temp and humidity composing, as well as subprocesses harder to isolate and observe as they flood into short term memory. Keep the feed in balance for two (or three, as many as you like). Liberal arts breaks further from esthetic scholasticism, inventing new suppositions for research and intimacy. After government, wiry empirical jolts, semblances that comprise enmeshments in a readymade mood and control structure parallel to voc ed for poetics; appliance hint: metronome.

3/11/23

Once there was a crutch like levitation, it got modulated. Modulated is like drummers and saxophonists, women coming out to play, sampling the masked hostility and indecisiveness of our environment and backing it up with inexact beats and multiplying sounds from what they were doing before the session took hold.

Sexual scaffolding hovers in the interim, instantly recognized as male identity. Identity and hardened m.o.’s then evaporated. We invented them from silences, lies and a feral sense of feeling cornered in a soulless piano practice lesson. Enough — men as well as women are resigned and re-acclimated to generations of processed shock of the simple — the safe-zone simple, where infectious pop is authenticated, highlighting some weak spots.

Wherein a smirk presses on — mass culture destroyed by life-changing sex.

That would be the solid thanks to no progress.
Forever all night. 
Look around, what’s background?   
Barely perceptible lightning over fog. 
Homology then prudence. Peck v immolation. 
No questions asked, we work the lower jaw 
for the same carbons to put this together as refuge.     
 
Meanwhile nothing else came up.    
 
You’ll need a new camping saw and hood scoop.   
I’ll invade your space then leave later,   
lately not feeling calm over you but crazy.
72: When love is missing, shame is worth nothing. .
You devise virtuous lies (love, dear) .. 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, nothing, Gabby. .
Let’s pronounce your true love untrue. Make it count. .
Tho even in this I fear sarcasm.
Bathing in wishful enjambement, naked duty —
and ‘worth the trouble’ — called out in a tremblor voice to children who blur the terrain,
a patterned enclosure: our caller, composer, shouts,

Let’s search for reason in nature’s chaos...
No one belts out a coda like this, pulsating — it’s wonderful.

A rationalized miracle.

3/10/23

What can be done to apathy over time? I register nothing. Nothing again? 
 
Tedium is poor experiment, an acting adjunct said. And that’s what we wrote down to snap out of it — lightness, joy, eyes-open, no daydream. Not even a cousin to daydream: fanaticism and fact checking are clean assimilation in reverse! It’s clearer every day we’re way behind the suitably flared zoological frontier.  
 
Time I guess to lower your eagerness and cover it with a pile of dinged Swiss Army knives. I’ve been a floater of cynicism in relation to any idea I sever. (It’s hard for me to take credit.) “It’s always about dying,”  
Yet, it’s dying, “never death.”
I consider head scratchers tedium managers. They carry their own genetic information but don’t understand. Fact checking zealotry skips a generation, again.
Nice beachfront but there are fewer nouns
and fewer bonds with semiotics doubting itself (if only a little) —
it seems immaterial — immaterial, 1 of those 2-headed enigmas :

nothing much and — hey! — another noun phrase.
An eerie self-eating metamorphosis.
123: Lament — I defy you and your truth —

I trust only timetables born of our desire. Nothing novel. Nothing strange.

Our continual haste, our poor retention, our brief dates give me the butterflies and more butterflies chasing more..no lie —
as 10 to the 10th more wind up as polygamists barnstorming thru
a winging-it hemisphere where I can never forget you. Not you!
Experience is impulsive, according to unrigorous physics out-evolving pretexts for concealment with no plausibility in the future of the past.   

No such work experience for a pay grade gaining access only to weather bombs in a manifold vacuum. In-finite instrctions      

Would be taking you on and over and winning without willing to keep or junk your composition.      

Final orders are that vicarious. I thought no way, no ultimatums to rephrase, no immoral aspirations — nothing but work slathered with work!

3/9/23

Your first lover could not heal your mind through his skin.
Then we happened to answer you, seeing the wind fixed on the floor
and circling midair. We see your subtle flight.
We don’t want to be a second late for all we are hellbent over.
That, and we understand we can meet without seeing you.

You said no way, I don’t like it, blah! / Or / our
partners..

exaggerated our losses because this is how we understand
your taste, what do you think? Understand?

That’s a gist.
I work here but not much any more. 
Cascading circumstances.
88: Patriarchy expands fraternal allegiance. & you & I so belong.
We’re well acquainted with our own double weakness. Well, I really enjoy it. 9 out of 10.

& we’re both right & wrong.
What do you look like now? It’s right to ask? With all my loving thoughts I can set down our long story, bending my weaknesses against myself.

We both gain an advantage (all wrong) to prove you virtuous.
Today, my beliefs go unchecked worshiping neutrality (plain v harder) w/in the present gloom of purgatorio as good possibilities blow town, including the best halo effects, feelings. They’ll come back like sight for the blind in the dark. 

It’s agreeable finally to shake physics’ geomantic hand covering our breathing. Geo-theories are of a blind nature as well as hypotheses. Today, every day open censorship is tangential to being here, right over here, filtered, unfiltered but as long as it takes.

3/8/23

Once there was a crutch like levitation, it got modulated. Modulated is like drummers and saxophonists, women coming out to play, sampling the masked hostility and indecisiveness of our environment and backing it up with inexact beats and multiplying sounds from what they were doing before the session took hold.

Sexual scaffolding hovers in the interim, instantly recognized as male identity. Identity and hardened m.o.’s then evaporated. We invented them from silences, lies and a feral sense of feeling cornered in a soulless piano practice lesson. Enough — men as well as women are resigned and re-acclimated to generations of processed shock of the simple — the safe-zone simple, where infectious pop is authenticated, highlighting some weak spots.

Wherein a smirk presses on — mass culture destroyed by life-changing sex.

That would be the solid thanks to no progress.
Pass the very white.. I think they’re gloves.
With further directions your understanding registered.

Off the rack, but great

— a good to a very good response

inasmuch as speaking about or through gloves, the gist comes across the border over thin night.
129: That slap in the face is harder to explain now,
on purpose laid to make the taker mad — a waste..
 
Traffic jammed under the apartments — tropical reaction — 
A cruel lemon sliver caught in your savage nose, past reason,  
Extreme, cruel, tangy..  
Romeo and Eurydice. A rude joy proposed behind a dream. Just a wedge. 
His eyes & yours swell with knife moves.  
Your brain stores many kinds of pleasure. & his the same.  

A genome led you to him..  
He smiles with no wisecracks about your bluffing kowtow & innocence    
— nothing to discredit &  
— no hell to pay!

...the rain keeps raising rules of thumb, bringing it all back.

3/7/23

How may I help?

In robotic evolution there’s an i.d. crisis 
... who knows we’re taking these steps   
 
for whose agenda? Eat and lose some weight?   
 
Brooding Siri or I could use another i.d. for either of us. Or anyone.  
I used to have an ersatz ‘power’ dependency that’s reasonable to regret. Even today. 
Now I think it’s polite to say ‘power,’ not ‘ostentatious pensiveness’
replicated many times in mum succession.
And I’ve never been more uplifted, more unnerved by an against-type chamber piece somberly floating off fun insight, now audible signs, if-history, if-intention preparing the new force for a life span’s fixed melody.  
 
Unless there are police already in sight.  
 
Criticism, it seems, “must take a wider horizon of use.” But my notes are lost, seized and sealed with if-rhymes; my ears “wrapped” in thunderheads.   
 

The ‘if’ I had in mind comes in expired turmoil. His daybed is in the next police van with pencilled movements, minus the rhetoric. The if-critique had no name; it’s all about listening.
130: If my love is rare, our verbal modesty is unimpressive.
Well, I do think love rare — nothing like false equivalents spread over the planet.

I love to hear you speak.

And there’s nothing like your hair, your breast, my master, not a god! your eyes, more delight, no on-point comparisons come to mind, nothing like the sun.

Nothing like your aromas, as well — I love breathing in the scent off your cheeks. And yet thru our modest words love vibrates on thru air, more music than speech.
How may I help?

In robotic evolution there’s an i.d. crisis 
... who knows we’re taking these steps   
 
for whose agenda? Eat and lose some weight?   
 
Brooding Siri or I could use another i.d. for either of us. Or anyone.  
I used to have an ersatz ‘power’ dependency that’s reasonable to regret. Even today. 
Now I think it’s polite to say ‘power,’ not ‘ostentatious pensiveness’
replicated many times in mum succession.

3/6/23

Silence’s message is mixed but never better aligned. The call center serves as hideout, learning the ropes, perusing scraps and parts of spokken beauty and hope.

Pigeons pattern the exponents where detachment is.

We have no major issues just shady aftermath horoscopes.
And to think a way out, we can blur the ground and yield authority to sit and watch dogs turn smoky brown tracking vans in drizzle, tarnished from sight, playing against a stack of old storm windows, within a composure for light a time-keeper can’t reach.
On mortality,  
 
I’m a big baby. That’s a big b, for clarified as black-and gold pelage, married and vulnerable, exploring reiterations of my own duality. 
 
I’m alive feeling the swansdown of DNA. Soon I’ll be comically dead — that’s married to a triplicate database — sinking into forest behavior, giving up fish, emotionally shot ..  devoted to background intelligence in seamless disproportionality.
Sonnet 100: 

Muse. You.
We have worthless spoils darkening our song 
— an idle song we convert to argument 
with little or no honor. Still it ‘sings’ to the ear.

In numbers and verse I surveil your fame most everywhere.
You return time and again, lending my base subjects light
— you’re faster in my time. 

Come closer: Your power and skill suspend most of my fears 
even as we love vicariously — even more to love more,
to redeem spending my fury and all my life in satire.
The named oceans are dated, right, left
Pouting, getting better!

Meantime, ping. We’re here for discovery via inflection of lap pools’ recurring
condensed matter.
When we come to — there will be perorations in suspension, ripped,


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

Dear multiple choices from eternity: Send us a message we can wolf down.
Convey a sense of urgency if/when superfluous. Then put off all force.

3/5/23

Often my partner relaxes in our compound, deliberately passive-aggressive like back in pre-school.

I’m kidding. I’m alone.  
As I saw it back then, descendants built us a cohate museum to spy
on
 them & others. They look great — stomping over genomic bloodlines. That’s their
moonlight, nearly indispensable for making whirlpools

down cell walls that follow a trajectory
aimed atomically at both of us in maroon cords.
Piano shenanigans on beauty dined.

Never put your object before verbs — prefiguring
solitude.
I stress
we’re suspicious of wormholes, tho

I never use tone shifts while throwing a cookout together.
For what party in sleep?
128: How often the ear takes hold as silent partner, confounded with sweet concord. To be in concord .. (I know nothing about this ..) 
To stay in concord, how often envy jerks us off — as tho entr’acte — wiry motions, nimble boldness to harvest you:

Blushing to be tickled inside and sway.. 

Lips, either side of lips, poor lips, more than nimble, blessed, tickled as well inward, taking us gingerly into our vast stretches with lips to kiss.
I’m Aldo.  
 
No, you are.
 
 
We’re a special team. We’re circumspect; sharing mechanisms 
(our pretexts) gives no voice to parrot motifs over a long fly we back off to catch, nightly. 
 
What about cleverness and defaming character?  
Don’t be involved.  
 
What does 1 say? A few shaky words,  
hacking at reasons to try with the grit of understatement.  
And then 1 thought, that’s what’s wrong.  
Hey hey my.

3/4/23

I went to hell with you.
The unoccupied mind long overdue. 
 
Meantime I’m losing a fortune   
While I keep my mouth shut & listen,    
Escalating with all my 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 nonoblivious among motion arts,    
Tai-chi of self-watch. There. And these     
 
Steps entangle bosons of mine, of yours along with everyone  
Rushing us toward long careers in revisions & redefinition...  
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.
112: Do you like spiral staircases striving, branching out to keep no one alive in so profound an abyss? 

Nonlinear facts are stairs to bourses where bottom lines are dizzying when least derivative. Volatile objective content triumphs. Right or wrong it’s a creepy snob racket (Charles B).   
 
Our nervous system distorts music in an adder sense, Charles might say, to emphasize poisonous reversals as in snakes’.. radial evil, neglected by its own super ego, snaps. B is for Bukowski. 
It’s probably a head cold. 
 
Unhappiness breeds from flu-like abundance. That’s about it.  
A common cold means at least a dozen things or more.  
An embedded satire about too much, just too much, and... 

You know what I think?  
 
A physical being hears what one wants, has a fever and takes in a lot  
Guessing this was a sample.  
 
And service areas are where we drive satire home and choose.  
Our upper hand is no joke. Correction, our lassitude is.

3/3/23

Anchored in a way in the bay, reminding myself 
L Kearney rhymed all with skull, internally. P Inman’s  
Hairnet and echelons shifting under putty, thumb-nailed into  
Agreement to let us in. Skull with putty..  
Urgent, dizzy, coming down to rare earth.  
 
The more you put your fingers in it, on it, on earth,  
You know retouches, coloration return as youtube 24..  
Abandon and reproof and getting fitter  
(more adhesive) for communal decisions about time.
I’ve got to hold back. Not bob around.

This is in response to a commerce-vector coursing through pop concepts, bringing us 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 both are keepers of decades at night.

Love is moaning.. I’m almost a novice enthusiast.. but years from now.
Then, inscrutably I’ll break down and bob.
99: Stay on the hunt, tough to please, borrow, speculate (ouch)

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

Annexed to you, violets are grossly dyed, your soft cheek
raining havoc with the lilies.. marjoram, my love’s breath, your breath. (Uh.) Here’s where you and I lose the (or a) scent. Ever


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


your love’s veins, your hands, both among the thorns ..
condemned for pride — proudest I’m going on all nerves stolen from you.
A monk asks,   
 
This is why I hate you by myself  
 
and keep loving you under wraps?  
Take care, and take more time. Acts of omission are presorted, so they keep numbing, so like fixating on folks’ shoes. You can do this, feel free, cadet. Monk. But don’t expect to fill mine or adapt to my avoidance of frontiers, rejecting anarchism. 
These were the funniest jokes I know, the baldest too. I’m from Tokyo. I don’t remember laughing so much. Ever. Our project failed but I can’t recall being as excited as I am.  
 
Space also presorts sometimes.
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?

3/2/23

— 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 meme-phytes (‘stolen parts’
To run over) any & all mayhem coming unannounced (achieved)
Or some won’t since you and I separate thru some flexibilities —

Already saying goodbye takes us far up the jet trail! quelling fear of want-
Ing pain. You never can tell. I won’t.
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?
140: Winter ahead, wise and cruel. Sooner or later. Are we mad?
In sleep even a con anarchist gets seasonal immunity. 
Going wide, this is mad — better it were no bad news washing over time under preseason wraps. 
Snow even now is no 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.
Greyhound hurling on seesaw feels fine, 
Any footage balances when pushed, so it’s  
Not serene. A maelstrom lights  
Up a foreground, no questions asked. 
(I wagered my face the minute I handed it to you.) 
Pit Bull sits tangled in tree w/leash & kites.  
Corgi spinning in washing machine, a shiny fox.

3/1/23

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.
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 at my bequest lilac-dark in the air
along with offshore atmospheres yesterday and the day before.
116: One’s {most-
ly random swagger looks on the edge of another marriage as a catch-all to crush self worth — tho unknown to
one’s } naysayers: The nays encourage sampling —
Never coerced by an alteration of stars or human form, fixed on this one trademark: Love is not love;

No one, nothing concentrates like our love in doom. I’ll believe you more as I’m a fool, never loved or unloved...

But let me take our partial love’s temperature — your true will bears this out —

What are we fixing up, hitting a few heights in only a few weeks, but only for brief hours as naysayers find softer, more musical alterations. Marriage? Alteration? None for us...

Love is no half-way fool. Love goes off the boards like water lilies kicking off their boots, women coming to rule. Snipers crouch, removing

The edge to their lips and cheeks.
Marriage makes me horror-struck 
 
Aghast in wake of our previous melancholy. 
Blindfolded angels thinking in the past —  
All mute waving back  
 

Protecting us from our known pasts and predicates,   
 

Taking on more pain, taking many more onboard, putting them   
 

In mind of us affiliates, at last.