Levitation in words has to be modulated. (They wanted this.) Modulated is like coming out to play, sampling the masked hostility and indecisiveness of our verbal environment and backing it up with inexact beats and multiplying love of what we were doing before the procedural took hold.
Then we go off a notch keeping our eyes shut.
I miss you doesn’t change anything. I want you happy but be on time for signing our release pledge.
4/5/25
Sonnet 131: Meeting slander again:
A delivery system processes our facial prowess — they have many words for yours — doting, precious
But it’s our doing, tossing cash in for pizza ..
It’s a balsa wood decade, valuing hoax, coming too near tyranny
for falsehood never ends, I swear.
Although I swear to myself alone, my heart,
our love constitutes a long shot
within a thousand groans to outlast madness
and slander. And in good faith — how fair and fairer that could be.
A delivery system processes our facial prowess — they have many words for yours — doting, precious
But it’s our doing, tossing cash in for pizza ..
It’s a balsa wood decade, valuing hoax, coming too near tyranny
for falsehood never ends, I swear.
Although I swear to myself alone, my heart,
our love constitutes a long shot
within a thousand groans to outlast madness
and slander. And in good faith — how fair and fairer that could be.
4/4/25
I sleep all night, chastened by my agenda in a stoned vein. Like everyone else I’ve got business waiting and new places to run over. Tender sprouts green and with sweat, sill alive, pierced to the root by tamarisk and peyote flowers at table, ample liquor and song. The sweetness outside not wavering in rain to any rational depth, I’ve got bed then enjoining health in my crosshairs.
Sonnet 7:
Outgoing at noon, attending on what? I’m not going out. I’m about getting on (mouthing off) with or without you. Just look how my sight’s scripted by high pitched infantile alienation, falling over you. Again. It’s not too late! New optimism apparently pays gifting you burning head. Another way we’re both blackmailed over there is nothing low, nothing sacred.
Outgoing at noon, attending on what? I’m not going out. I’m about getting on (mouthing off) with or without you. Just look how my sight’s scripted by high pitched infantile alienation, falling over you. Again. It’s not too late! New optimism apparently pays gifting you burning head. Another way we’re both blackmailed over there is nothing low, nothing sacred.
4/3/25
As a persnickety moral sort, Are you thinking of me?
I used to believe so, along w/ all the grossular and pine boxes keeping us apart opening to our former lives, a win-loss for comic, breezy wind instruments to sound the alert, lithe, w/ a sporty edge.
Mortality can’t be beat.
No amnesty? A ship is on the way
from mare nostrum
or like crustaceans we give in, to forgetfulness for now.
Blinds drawn, our preachy, scavenged opacity fills w/ sang-froid riches of dark matter, soaking the globe w/ its bible pedigree.
Before that yoga is fantastic, a civilizing coterie added to sempiternal space, entered into w/ a worldview w/out speaking, achieving access to felt qualities.
I used to believe so, along w/ all the grossular and pine boxes keeping us apart opening to our former lives, a win-loss for comic, breezy wind instruments to sound the alert, lithe, w/ a sporty edge.
Mortality can’t be beat.
No amnesty? A ship is on the way
from mare nostrum
or like crustaceans we give in, to forgetfulness for now.
Blinds drawn, our preachy, scavenged opacity fills w/ sang-froid riches of dark matter, soaking the globe w/ its bible pedigree.
Before that yoga is fantastic, a civilizing coterie added to sempiternal space, entered into w/ a worldview w/out speaking, achieving access to felt qualities.
34: I have a base feeling of comfort in disruption. One point of a number that overtake me in a way —
Together, you and I define arcs of ironic repentance but worked out in a series of tearful disputes. Just so, we’re still cloaked in our losses. Loss of shame, loss of grief. A salve may heal my storm-beaten face but not the offending wind smudging our wounds into a double-cross of smoke and rotten smoke signals. Why?
It’s not enough I lose, ransomed to disgrace. I’m scared; as such no relief. Not yet. I don’t travel well in grief. I hide from your face even as it’s shedding dry tears, breaking promises, still breaking me.
4/2/25
I sleep all night, chastened by my agenda in a stoned vein. Like everyone else I’ve got business waiting and new places to run over. Tender sprouts green and with sweat, sill alive, pierced to the root by tamarisk and peyote flowers at table, ample liquor and song. The sweetness outside not wavering in rain to any rational depth, I’ve got bed then business in my crosshairs.
91: Who owns property, names, anything under formalism? Boasting of birth,
of skill, we grew up 20th century, years before joy in mega-wealth
became the measure for every day, as adjuncts measure it.
Some glory still of hawks or hounds, pride to a category of leisure. Yup. More? Your love is of more delight than dreams of pleasures
that can’t exist — here we go — our love zooms in value.
Love’s body force is better, richer, prouder, to the top!
You and I own one property having love, finding this joy above the rest.
of skill, we grew up 20th century, years before joy in mega-wealth
became the measure for every day, as adjuncts measure it.
Some glory still of hawks or hounds, pride to a category of leisure. Yup. More? Your love is of more delight than dreams of pleasures
that can’t exist — here we go — our love zooms in value.
Love’s body force is better, richer, prouder, to the top!
You and I own one property having love, finding this joy above the rest.
4/1/25
At speech therapy you wear wet marks under your shirt — there you go — sent,
Slotted for long scream divisions raising heads and
.. bright debate
Drawing boundaries along dark areas of youthful propaganda. And ..
Our dual-cosmos line of argument self-inflates as a weather injector, fouling the atmosphere into beigest colors, pebble and pale lucent rays.
At this point, colors burn up, each measurement raging over acres of matrices, giving more access to haystacks you call the multiverse, which looks most imprisoned now.
Slotted for long scream divisions raising heads and
.. bright debate
Drawing boundaries along dark areas of youthful propaganda. And ..
Our dual-cosmos line of argument self-inflates as a weather injector, fouling the atmosphere into beigest colors, pebble and pale lucent rays.
At this point, colors burn up, each measurement raging over acres of matrices, giving more access to haystacks you call the multiverse, which looks most imprisoned now.
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