A cycle or sphere

So, leave a ‘top’ 2 buttons undone. Fate
shouldn’t adapt spindly now, or bang it
it home. There’s nothing more except my
distasteful impression of Mel Gibson
in red shoes. (Footwear is a hot mess for u
men.) A sick mind resists emotion solving
puzzles. Are u going to put that there?

It dawns on me I am covered in bacon
reform. Instincts are mostly buried under
cement, sunk talking to each other, wah?
They were hard to yank out of the wrinkled
valise (I removed the tongue). Gibson Pond
plays daylight gavel to gavel, searing, puffy,
relaxed, with that living unlocked smell.

Career update: some excise can save us from scrapping (the (mission)

(Me first then the face of.)

let’s be fair, our partnership was an accident enjoining all to see your cycle of equity ...

here’s the creep out. I’m leaving you everything glazed or remedial, tho it’s the 1 with the most holes and expense within the rattle, 1 1 was snap chatting about.

And when blood types were fresh no 1 got blamed. I would like 1) to see or set up that 1st position, b) be shown the dissolved needle and my as it were haystack with no frontiers under wraps, c) knock 1) down and inspire small talk..

Say I’ll be back. You never can tell. In a heartbeat I do the 2nd over (something that was) and

..

Follow the process. Tease near-misses out of explosive dumbness to withhold then expose your ethic without talking process putting out cut-off points where ideas can pick up habits to muddle on, better to become accoutrement for a mouthful of definitions in all this anapaest.

Rule-involving

Un-manacled, ut plots don’t belong here.
This is a model venture.

Months and years go over ideology
and any kind of style. Whatever futures

The dominant guy has amnesia. Hellfire, excrement,
ut v. mad socialists for 200 pages..

Fire away when I say go
find hell in what it is, no absurdity,

shades of.. against.. We are in no position to say

How at a client’s urging you negotiate many
variations. Shades are shut down.

This is my conceptual of a former ideology. Copy
that order requiring the fireman (Verizon) turn over logs.

I wouldn’t say “favorite.”

Maximum restraint = get it done don’t talk to me.
I promised you a ham for quilting bombast.

You live within politics and practice warfare
to engage another’s psyche

& you’re always wrong to prolong your appeal.

Behavior samples predict largely harmless craft,
poll-taking is rhetorical solutions.

The ham’s anger has hatched..

We’ll have you over when politics and death are what they should be, augmented with Pablo Tac bouquet, plus a full deck of historical fantasy and hyper décor that crack the lobes of automation... After that, there will be nothing coarse or raucous to grab at, but for now, thanks! we’re good with “no real choice.”

Affidavit

I’ll say it again, there’s a method to share, a high-five as you whisper this is the second point, both natural and secular.

Adorno says plain speech is fair game starting over (in the middle) but its put doesn’t count. (It’s always been technical.)

Surely there’s no foundering beneath the social parasail of violence. Rules commit us. Your card is activated.

Yet that’s the worst case — let me give you a hand. g = l. Everything noted, integrated. Data get by on a riddle gauge, part of the solution on the punishing ground looking up.

There is a civilizing process to staying w/ purposely
dull, 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 with a fine voice,
“a voice & nothing more.”

Anything Apollonian looks terrible.
Capacious anxiety, yup, refusal to arbitrate glamour, okay... I’m done.

You can break the law to shoulder perfection or save a life, once. Either way is a fractional
infinite in the context / e.r. Something is definitely going on.

Lefties are feeling cornered (not to say conned) but
it’s breathtaking administering the right thing to do to you.

In Cambridge you sing beside a confection of labs
OK I see I mean

boarding the T.. is it in memory or fear?
It’s a hypothetical of passivity
putting you first, smaller democrat than the original.

Aggressive government heals what’s less to happen
if citizens get to pay for their something.

Boat a memo, commuting while being Derek Blur.

Steering is good, home town prom night,
holiday windows : legacy dockers
bedeck the voiceover.

Even still-life elements seem an honor
for the tourist guide calling, Nothing Is Lost.

& there is the acclivity of computer sleet and snowflake maidens
preparing for combat to make it happen.

Living somewhat left of Unitarian.

(Japanese cranes)

It’s impossible to separate churned out understatement from the performance; both are adolescent in a good sense, pitch. So that’s how the cave and landscape felt. Next, a cool minimal database advanced by textuality. Minimalist and to burn out your swing try knowing you live on meeting death half-way hapless (and deceitful), sensing value is contingent; partly it’s insight, partly not.

The underground = stick abstractions and collisions within a dominant tribal identity or trance. What will matter is how to find and / or place each attempt. Classification will be by evolutionary adaptation passed on to descendants, as the collisions = one’s part multiplied by preferences, vapor. The work includes more than these prose bits, but one’s words make everything one’s composition, one’s part of the work.

A headboard with no utility other than hooks.

Can we cut to the scary part?

Materiality can’t exist. No dissonance, no disruption, a new status quo that’s 4 ever, sparkled, meandering within ordered appearances that go dormant or run off with incentives in unboundedness, unraveling optics in dissolved attitudes behind all the good times 4-ward.

And the chorus is plural on getting uninvolved or whether it’s the scene of aging.

(I keep saying moral arguments are gnarly.)

And an aspect of our fiction holds. We have no perverse incentive to be mindless of taking chances, since we have already gone over it in hammock talk, too much, really, and too often we have raised a toast to the madness of it’s desperately over between the numbers (and how angry they get) and how it makes us crazy for the late poetry of Rene Ricard.

Rene Ricard, R.I.P.

Question.

Sundial-changing sex contests a thousand bees stinging our feet

— after we polished the text and handed it in.

We chose photographs along a shuttered residence, had
an interest in opulence & stratagems bequeathing our
ing great! Those brands are awesome announcing oops, they’re
digging in bins.

A sight to eat. Even a tremor of you goes around in concepts, calling
and backing it up with inexact and multiplying sounds
from what we were doing before updates [give us a second..] took hold,
instantly recognized as identity?

In your memory, throwing kisses

I’m expelled from the pseudo mountain top on valentine’s last week.

The new vantage leaves us alone with our shopping boundaries, ibis fur, biker comics. Others enjoy leads to something or someone that’s opposite, blocking the view, accommodating path holders as non occasions of conflict, which also means “rescuing no one” (according to Wilhem and Baynes). But it never happens, and it’s not merely evil if Zigeunerliebe’s soft view sharpens ethical and esthetic focus on self-regard and the potential utility of badass fuckers, a baseline annulled.

I was sideswiping with you, among maples and acer pines, no contrivance or Schubertian opposition. It felt like what bouclé heats under pressure if it has a chance; our roles were to fill this in, lengthening its insipid menace while coddling the wetlands. I call this a sex drive / minus attrition.

So I have returned to footage pitched toward infectious provisos and integers-to-be, no parts to fix; Schubert had blond hair and wore rimless glasses, no concupiscence and no comeuppance.

The wetlands are working that through. The words we had and didn’t have consequences. Learned good is bad is good. It shows up invisibly, and as unspeakably as libido constitutes a knowledge module, glistening aimlessly.

We’ll need smarter drywall too, to excite fern and bacteria growing inside due to everything about the yield, blowing in news of perpetual unitary joy...

If I voice a question mark at the end of feeling genreless, it becomes a pick-up line.

And your silence is tinctures or tints, much as / good was.

Mobs and their terms of justice, um, I’m ..

Am thinking of some upgrade. For anything more cautionary and uncool we’ll have to shop politics further, some interpretive search worked up into a deep steam of entrepreneurship; we’ll get back to you all —

10 gallons of the Hirsch, please, dayment-ready, fenduc w/ the crescent canonical tartelle in Diary of Bows, ah.

Attempting authenticity in insoluble speech, we paint firewalls. And by peril as usual we meant danger to the core.

I remember when politics was a machine. Wisdom lay in de Staël turmoil, a title from Kristy South.

Hence the ‘political’ surface is discourse and action / or blood sport and games, what some call.

Caution is exercised improperly to preserve constructs protecting access to that core. The tattoo / equation is politicians = del quack w/ mascots (Our addendum is in the mouth.).

—

In a parallel caution Kristy needs a foot job. I shall touch you in his cling spot. (Someone once said correspondence is written better where it’s taught.) Also you and I like to dwell fully on future differences, on crispnesses in whispers in the air.

Hence his sleep is like a procedural language from NASA.

But none of this mattered at the time.

It was his hair.

Sat.

[[ To whoever takes it personally, a call back hidden in buttergrass
overhead burbles and



Since you brought a pizza —


What about these machinations to effect scandal involving us and sociopaths to raise your
stature, fabulously? And that aside — ]]

To membership without a trial or to a young writer:


Visceral v. intellectual? Dopey red (Perseus) v. radiation (his mom).

Joined complexities suck up the surface.

Find yourself with someone kind-headed in the dimension whatever... it’s an elision of non mimetics v. lite work that mouthpieces ideas rolled into spools for keepers sweating lead colors (or wearing sweat colors).

Falsehood is an actuarial stat, another subjective state and quality, not an elevation or height. So if darkness “must take a wider horizon of use,” why not just be kind to actors? Il y a falsehoods that restart the in-betweens here, wearing epigram “skirts.”

It’s not I do not wish to join right now. You’d be diamond informally.

En route to password assistance, astronomical and infinitesimal times-spaces (women and their merits) are unsolved problems and compelling work that front-load knowledge construction, finding a bowl of light to explain and reform problem sets about astronomical and infinitesimal times-spaces.

Sloan School

I know her, he knows me, I admire them, he or she does need to admire back.

Instructions are errands, the fake story, a text in weird American English that you never tell, v. real fake: Like women around Marie Antoinette. They were textually modern, respectable Europeans: They dressed for success, but also survival. They avoided bosses and careers that were intellectually focused. They were weird back, and soaked up the city among savages of their own designs.

I’m my own boss.

A Monday

I go for the moody and unexpected.

The color of the spine goes ultimate, high and low, unlikely yet foreseeable.

So I put your name on and in. Am I fit for the scenario? Are you and I? I ran out of balls rating
you. (I found so much of what you say emancipating, but the data are hardly unadulterated.)
You’re driving me nuts.

I have a sentence for everything. This is a transition beyond intoxication, to guard the masses.

2.

Monday begins to spin. There, I know it. I’m imprisoned to reach my market.

We need to work on a new punishment and platform. I recommend blending in with nonpoets,
video vignette makers and tinkerers and others indistinguishable from scientists.

After work it’s ourselves as human illuminated octane, Ray Bans and thong-white sleeves. Or
maybe the heart is non-music-industry.

Solitude, confidences, we’ll learn times in the day, the plays and the jungle of intoxicating
paradigms.

Monday between faces adds up what you say waiting, keeping your eyes busy on the platform.

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 similar results we can pin on like tendrils. And you can use them later, on blind dates, and get paid.

And this is not a test. Every utterance is for sale as the collaborative impulses pass from desolating satire : while little consonants in your throat falter, you’re holding firm.

It’s an argosy of what’s evolutionary before it was more uplifted.

2.

Where are we un, um? If that’s everything for now, we’ll switch to our slogans, bodies of generations in slangy hypotheticals; love songs on the other hand never miss. Minutes after the work is filed, dozens stand eagerly in line for a free run of the company. “This is a very nice benefit,” a leisure pursuit like being shipwrecked and held for ransom. Those were the funniest jokes, the sexiest too. I don’t remember laughing so much. Ever. And I can’t recall being as excited as I am now.

Corporate design is a full-length mink coat.

I have nothing to wear. My head weighs 10 pounds. Hold my earrings.

Ounce by carbon resin ounce, a take-off economy could result. Native fluency may be floatable within, once regarded in its wholeness, its contours beeped forward w/ the news, smart enough though meaner beyond its whereabouts.

Where o where did you hide the trance box? It was on loud so the workspace, the top percents of it, could hear it, feel its stages striking after dark.

Do you like spiral staircases?

Facts here are a marketplace that understands figures on the street are garbed for good when they are least derivative; ephemeral objective content triumphs. It’s kind of a snob racket (Charles B).

I sing thusly as a skeptic steps over and above deadpan. A moan’s direction is shifting, pasting in its genetic material. This is how the Frankfurt School’s defenders get nested within the keyboard to determine contingent values in a scheme of the all-species inventory.

Our nervous system distorts reality to emphasize changes in radial evil of the super ego. B is for Bukowski.

Worth repeating. (..after a long pause under the gun made of Kotzwinkle alloy —)

Ultra blurry and anamorphic, some of the following is good for future stanzas. A letter, sort of, I sing to get re-elected by the letter, and we’ll proliferate to here if I try, if I have the confidence we pack — . We. The blind wiretap the secret that weighs and gets no credit for this — no ripped-off melancholy, no spectral, tiny swaggering to cash in, but there’s a substitution agreement containing an emergence to find you and me in the force, pulled from inside.

T — And ah I’m awake again, once with a face of a poet lost in dream. Or a formal outline. Or lines. Smiling lessons.

I left this untitled but also like a degree from Capella U.

Looking back then — I realize how awful and obviously coming from a family of sardines I was. Despite the violent and seemingly unprovoked attacks, I’m now smoothly sailing into my late teens. (GM)

After the master spoke we ate a snack and read country sheet music..

Can we cut to the scary part?

It starts, Relax and beware, the law of cause and effect can be obscured as traffic aims straight at you. In no time we went for a treat and put six heads under water. Next, did my homework, which was to study for a spelling bee. Then we ate cupcakes. X taught us about binary numbers and the mind. I love math wiping our flesh and solving problems.

We wake up, cartoon-lean. Inconceivable it seemed swerve-y and melancholic at the time — forms of address changed the ideology into overwrought matter while an emanation turned up to clear things with the bosses. I dream about poetry. Sometimes in poetry. It’s like a business. I could teach a class on sleeping practices, call it Meeting Deadlines. The bosses would rename it Pathways, tho.

After undergraduate courses we’re taught the integral self can level with all the others, and sadness is a public health problem. So protesters are hired to hunt down any incriminating thoughts and raise contentment rates.

Let me tell you why you’re here, to disseminate our values.

We haven’t changed the infrastructure, shaking hands, I mean, sluggish jellyfish with blond hair.

Rewrite

The sky squeaks with common sense, folds into dreams.

It has a square shape, bolted down in blips w/ a simplex-repetitive top layer, tethered for interpretation as Simone, a meteorologist, heads home to put this into effect.

And it has a ring to it, but less higher activity. That’s the air.

The language in the hydrangeas split, elegantly disruptive. Ergo, moods are out.

There is a history to this misfortune (which is ours). Simone is small. You can’t find actuality in a void of crescendo: What’s the point?

Tho, unless we’re feeling it, the lamé is (void) all we’re leaving at the door to heck, now personally ajar, since we’d like to see or set up some space to witness the dissolved thread to narrative, its needle and as it were a point.

I heard “Enter the contest area. Continue.”
While there’s nothing intervening or due

Now, you’re hanging from a pull-up bar − in French
& performing the day, whore-y breakfast or the pool?

So far I can tell what it’s like to see light
tendencies shifting free of fever, ague,

Intemperance, railroad spine, neurasthenia, the flu,
the common cold, silenced. Coming clean is part

Entering falsehood & staying w/ your truth-y stretch
timed brightly on you, the higher value

Gathering closeness to one who’s perfect
& will sound the alarm, an annunciator light

That comes into you, fantastic to watch!
Not going to lie, I watched you sleep in it.

Spring and colder rain or snow has a profile that can only be screwed with in dry spells.

Either is widely construed as partially audible, plundering contexts in either’s asymmetry.

Rain or snow’s great work cuts straight through its restructure, roughing up more makes and models they can abandon.

Either or they. It becomes a shadow soundtrack. Feels like it's tatooed on; epic sums the new slender totems; the walkway and instrumentation had to be done right.

..

Rain: there were several assumed steps in this, the new instrumentation. They came to understand you, urgently back you in your case, since it’s time.

They came amid snow and in rain to touch all for an hour undoing disbelieved approximations, confronting the knowledge industry, forecasting.

Rain or snow. One-by-one in the room.

The out-of-samples make extinction a technocracy of tongues, based on hearing them.

Snow, there is no outcome we have to thank you for (details in the sense of a trailer). Within a swabbed sample we bury our impressions. We couldn’t un-peel what washed out to sea as we decrease scaling down

(before completion split us up).

Like you, I grew up in a Maserati.

And I’m also from a safe district overseas. A wilderness created deep inside the seminar, which is an organized fraud, so I’ve got your back that’s looking deep and shallow, pleasant. I lost myself.

I digress: y+z (1-x) is a blind patch of petit point. Kissing is sick. It’s bad for you but wasn’t.

Then came the filching of imitation, a sort of I-actually-missed-you could have been.

Anyway, kissing where you are is so blatantly filled with what it spreads everywhere completely negating its purpose, starlight on the edge of freakonomics in a Flemish-like world, driving the pre-interpreted departure from what is present in the original experience of beings in being. Again, thanks.

The period sonnet doubts softness but addresses this is where we are with this.
Your fun workout once was of a soul, a tone cucumber if I were some colorist.

So why does it get processed in a motel thru history?
Maybe I’m a critic who’s decided to blab about all the wealth I have coming.

The name was the pelican. It’s inconsonant. I..

The so-called lode is a fabulous glossary. Interesting definitions for
switching velocity (rapidities). Why is a face at rest?

A growing explosion takes up time or an image of while

X deals in opinions on redeeming enterprises and, that’s if I’ll.

..

She had on her original eyewear from long ago.

Everybody’s got prior probabilities. Lucky you.

For my patronage you have syzygy, standing there you picked up the phone, ‘dialed’ another
number. Or, a breeze to hit-diffuse your feeling me up. So what you said is part of what lasts.

And all X is nourished thanks to wind of the Red Wings.

Software permeates philosophy,

a perimeter of asphalt whilst the meaning of structure is un-manacled so sex in the head is amazing, coventry gray out of amherst charcoal.

Some days the words round this off in latinate for amnesia’s fixed width.

You were fucking great, shaken tame.

Q: I wanted to ask you about being or going out. According to the slung allegory, it’s called Taking Their Place.

My topic is appreciating your case. It must stand up, no limit within limits. What do we do here at times?

A: Taking whatever works to exchange the hand that feeds us. We let this happen, instantly, phonemically.

And if that’s everything for now, we’ll switch to metonymy. Something slangy but still recognizable, so a geyser in a box of sets you don't see? Nothing as great as pre-infant not-sleep in the womb! It’s like a prelude / a vowel habitat exploding with party frogs! There’s an aspect of covered wagons ’n vultures dropping eyeballs in fake vomit. At this point it’s no to rational sisterhood. No to your Belmont dump on a cliff behind the house. It appears we’re operating in sludge bubbles where the tribal language — just so you know, I love what you’ve done with the place, crumbling infrastructure, squishy puppies and pit ponies boosting the wage earners who surround your home — over here — the canonical devotion obtained in something, something pastoral. Let’s start with that idea and see if it applies. Here.

Before someone is on fire, do we take their place?

Long before brief punches of text looked great on the phone, there were the many snores from ancestors with their coughs and grunts crowding in together in caves. Back when our bodies taught themselves phonemes thru shrieks and groans to signal pain, humming to sign comprehension and varietals of cognition, folks like you hit what I feel crazy fancy, and headed for greatness in the morning.

It’s different from the evening on and someone on fire hits back.

Teamwork. Our people are what make us great.

The then thick grasses went out on a date, back dabbling in craftwork while we go thru them. All this acreage owned by the production-geared and prosaic at base, that is, a-theoretical, factual. Broken, misunderstood.

I like art. I know nothing about it.

Voices say, personalities, like voices, are lent to us. It’s directional, a Long Island aesthetic

like voices and solitary genius in the workplace (seaside, e.g.). Particles sleep them off in traffic, affecting hands up to the bridge lattice.

Inside De Kooning you’ll find warm things. Alive, charged, brilliant to the eye. Stuffed-ish.

Antic intellectualism invades the host work. The work & the life, almost like family and fellow nationals glimpsing it as it flew.

Fit chair fillers. Four husbands.

Not bad. Ok. Bye.

It’s kind of a coincidence. I want to go to golf school.

This time it’s the end of the beginning.

Outside Spot reflects the city,

in the clouds was too liberal. The guard was up. I’ll keep going, Mr Fox Now asked,

Why make so much of political origin or lab blue in here, there a few bird enthusiasts, or their ambiguity?

To respond is everything I fall on, Kief

don’t tread where Gladstone’s selectmen came into their weather futures,
a power grid, a genial power between cliffside rust tints ripped from interiors x-ed down,
in the danger in they did

..that treading part as distorted expectation of (a) their own intemperance (b) lutefisk facial impatience
with... that a phone on tv? or your own in the new era? (The flu, the common cold, silenced.)

How do parallels threaten a referent on the unknown page? Which fox drug is best?
The front gate won’t say. Barb? Spot?

Spot still.. or his surrogate intruding a week from now, his emptied refraction applied
to the taillight for syntactical beings (in a sentence).

Intrusions entail teamwork, coincidentally.

I assail billionaires.

Someone suggests slow focus.

Zonal travel thru science betrayal & precluded revenge for a slight :

these in
:

on the porch veranda-ing

teachers, uncles, older sisters, the Wart Council sneering w/ stuck-up nihilists like deze rubriek. Everything is listened to, cool. The surface is music twisting in shorthand coupled more lithely if there’s no disease & an amber cirrus above the sweat off the potato fields out to the dippers, in slag.

You’re having na affair. But why?

Ridgemont High is shuttered yet bleak, one of life’s I-feel-young moves & distances that keeps slapping you back, imperfect timing. We stand awkwardly where we are around the corner, w/al I felt it when your plump lower lip was duly rounded.

The getaway is waiting for the next to choose Always Allow

My daughter, Moleskine.

I forgot the meaning of the first line.
Common rail tampers with road pine
underlining greens, setting off your idea

I was never in 2 places enough to ask permission
(trying to please paid better)

so that got to you. Got that myself :

coming clean is part of a neat precipice that can’t stand for practice —
not while the restless recover from numbness :
blistered are the angles in light made identical, emotionally thin,
extrapolated driving that home. That’s the super-definition :

Pretext takes over.

What would be less fantastic? Full shelves of inexpensive great plans.

Factory-wise, you’re behind. Your Europe is widely preached against, against the odds. Christ demoted the Clearys for their cultural lag. Or we could say at first they were pieces of nonsense, their cities negated, their verbs rounded off randomly. Bad girl meets Santa.

Bad Santa placidly stepping out on a black wood lotus; seems mediocre, not horrible, whimsical, maybe. I love her idea but nobody repents to appease you, to bring you back shouting, perhaps. The old first thought and don’t think are not meaning a lot anymore; both simultaneous perception of opposites let go, causing internal illogic and more hysteria to pour up or mostly plunge in a faint. Yet there’s a rocking momentum, like losing both death and life.

News of rain there was so blatantly filled with what spread everywhere completely negating its purpose, budget-floating in blue fragments of Flemish-like starlight, driving the pre-interpreted departure from what is present in the original experience of being.

That’s your interpretation.

Can you penetrate an Iron Age ethos growing up empty of teaching with or without tasty, available reserve? To understand this way amounts to ridiculing the state of flying birds. (I remember the salad shooter.)

(Someone asked me not to do this.) That’s how not-shitty is while our so-named public face makes a living, almost kidding and choosing sans difficulty. What kind of government takes things more lightly?

Vaccinated, merciless itch, what is this homeland we travel?
Passing thought immortalizes the X+one “casting
of cities” thinking past us. A true 2 years before
messing with you. Why did we wait?

for the translators

No itch to run off with their ideas of a frontier in unboundedness, unraveling optics in lightning
over fog. Explosive homology ’n prudence. A pack of pendulums & immolation. It wouldn’t be serene.

11 minutes ago on deck. There’s still a lack of linnets and authentic wax.

And something came up. Initial elements are bled into messing up cherished ideals,

I see a dart has feathers and it flies.

When I put my hands up
you can’t hear me you’re going too fast (bicyclist to bicyclist).

It’s a misunderstanding of gym etiquette but it gets you ashore with one* shoe in hand.

I’ll find you.

*my one shoe = 2 I stole yours.

To

To chase is to be on the house.

Sorry,

I read what you sent.

Merry Christmas. You practice with no denomination.

Feels great out ahead until there is a threshold;

& in those same terms there holds
our reliance on hard pleasure, plans.

Validating market snapshots, optimizing the center
more than any single system,

like a huge agnostic discipline
about attitudes behind morals, I began;

you know this open and shut
take it down / or thumb thru

a cool looking statistician-meh.
To the point you don’t have to know anymore yoga than
we know – less than nothing, which exists (im)practically.

Monkish materiality does not exist. No dissonance, no disruption. There are
appearances, such as a vantage baseline holding apple trees’ leafy
incentives and shopping boundaries.

The Flying Package was (is now) leaving the office to half-
center taking off, chaos in the air again, it has to be done to depth,
his accent, your acceptance, the book covers a lot,
sweeping coverage and this most generalized ‘someplace,’ a staff w/ jalousie
or unspecific ref.

Translations

‘articles have been written on the topic of’ = il y a cliff record re:
‘snow falling backwards’ = Ack!
‘I’ll surely croak’ = s’up(?)

‘the world of secrets is its own’ = circumstance
‘Pussy Riot ... freed’ = don’t make it move
‘staff may be prosecuted’ = attack dogs toughing it out

‘if your dad was my mother’ = the more I say it the closer it..
‘an interesting interview’ = farted carbon
‘bangorrhea’ = ghazal..well..

NYC electro-noise = beware of this to-do
James Dean was driving his new Porsche = this is a trans whatever
the killer bee leaves = sleepin’ with the Limey was bad – and familiar – cheap shit in a paper sack..

Borrowing high, mighty simplicity, the killer bee leaves a pattern to teach school reform. Pushes flip-tops open. Put this together, there is a life that’s sustainable, and I just made this up, eco-friendly. (You are under no obligation.) This is a real company. We call her Cathy.

All ages had been there,
down the frozen path because it’s snow-
ing, attack dogs toughing it out, snow
melted before statuary of white cats, snows
ones spot the Buddha bare in, the hedge snows
as euphemism for voids entering snow
a virulent infection of snow

A morning flew by / Only a

glob of us surrounded in snows
wrung pink by serial foam.

My best friend is my most erotic partner. It’s a corporation.
But this has nothing to do w/ that.

His music brokerage remains in aerospace

Within no sound
where there is none
other than the last
S’up? no other devices for years.

The more I say it the closer it gets.

2 are no duality. Crazy cements form a plastic posture.

Down the.
Farted Carbon. “Bleach.”

This is weird. A focus group from the groom’s side picked us, agreeing
w/ newer media that blow jazz, lower right, your lips moving up and down, documentation:

in the vicinity of metrics seen seeming on top (of it).

Here’s the stumper. No one can help us sign for Eurovision. (It rhymes.) Where is twilight?

Whatever the ism its urge to oppress is put down to the tulle underbelly, plus anthropology. We open our front door and see what politics didn’t do. The shortest path to noting your path is ignited by havoc, honest and exhausted people. From it’s-not-the-same-now to the science of celebration their betrayal is addictive.

And anthropology won.

I like most of their noneccentric symbolist umph.

They gave me the strength to be there, ameliorating, wild-eyed, on the curt side, one feels naked in one’s responses like others’, all the room wept glowing, tiled back and forth mistily across an immense and distant daze, half of it waxing with the plump bride adorned along mortal circumstance.

A square insult comic told me I go for the moody and unexpected.

The color of his spine high and low, unlikely yet foreseeable.

So I put his name in every ghazal. Am I fit for that? Are you and I? I ran out of balls rating you. I found what you say emancipating, even if the data are hardly unadulterated, driving me, well..

Doesn’t it transpose and inverse us when categories are givens we don’t need to work out?

I have a sentence for everything. This is a trans whatever.

Some of you is more sound-oriented while translucence flushes downward.

Your heart is impacted by his eyes, non-music-industry.

Solitude, confidences, you’ll learn times in the day, plays and the jungle of paradigms between that adds up what you say waiting, keeping your eyes busy on a Japanese course of action.

And there you go, retreating to that panoptic middle ground where they still have innuendos. You don’t have to choose the Non-Group taking part in the landed cool to outlast time, but no thanks. This is tomorrow.

A Line from

each year corrupts the exterior ultra-field and stream,
now I’ll show three cologne trails. Be funny and comfortable, first.

The lighter is literal and has more fun. Insert a handkerchief.
Shave twice a day. Does your dad look happy never to hear it again? You trade. Bow.

Last, best, final. For the good of your person, family, the total airborne, hands down, if the Cardinals have a home game, you know where to find me crushing a hotdog on my forehead.

I’m sleep.
A lone hill
I’ve been searching
awake all morning

I’m upset about the report

whose? with a consonant in my throat
or foot. It was a dud with a hurt.
It said “dad” and “no”
with no sound I alone saw
and have done this to me.

So many things done after years of victory over husband
whose clean face I see in the morning − caped
with sounds. Sounds caped with light, the best
dog and wood on the ocean
together, like you and us. I have done this to us.
Can you bear the stillness? Keep an eye out. The morning is over.

Repeat it until it becomes approval
spreading itself like “I don’t know about you”
like a jewel or a painter’s word for whale
like the blue while:

This set, like all good waymarks, tells a story while recording hints of a wide-mouthed affirmative, it finds self-mastery even in the spiteful − was it something to do with me? No, you see, there's a focus on only one side, blocking out the other, tho it’s instinctive to listen to both. Do you feel like leading a life the other shares with you? The question hopes you don’t turn your back on the Saluki holding pinking sheers in her mouth, uh nice Fox

Terrier in FinnAir plane w/ box cutter.

Where you die I will die, a part in the story I have no knowledge of.

For Clark

Walking away burns more calories,
‘mountains are empty’ still / they’re
rude − here is where the card you play helps.

I told the boss you said he should go to hell
(after all) protecting the tangents from the shareholders.

Wonder what a Coolidge looks like? the hang off it.
The contours. Nothing month. T’on. The combin’ and. Suffix with opal.

Studios may bend. Phrase whole simply. Save early ea.

Emotionally Coolidge always knew. ‘Emotional’
conceals larger, shattered statements, ‘knowing
they have not made a point’

should I continue to have happiness eating dinner
and having sex pure-d by The Mindy Project.

Thus Hercules had a jingle writer, Otello
was a Flintstone, Virgil’s Junky the source of mohair.

I miss knishes.

Passion motifs should die, death too, no recovery to get “permission”
as The Analects 論語 will be tantamount to sex medicine,
in value, in cold bewilderment over consciousness / a risk
and vault-loads, bags and bags of humanly virtue, and
many new non-identities that bring risk-takers close to the sex kitty within.

Or live to be admired. You might like to check it out. Ask
me. We have a message board this time.
Growing to chat and leave messages, I stared at the new wing
thinking how light, how each light beam
can be rare and mysterious, a physical

crossing between Rattle and Hum. Higher Memes
| Religion | How People Talk. Where did passion tend?
Search: Wittgenstein reads False Prospects. So too The World of Normal
Boys transcending genre w/ understanding of the painter’s task.

I keep circling spiritual terms regulated by us humans. Thanks for our donation.

Big losses revive the most potential among us doctors for peace.

I’m in a super position, it seems. I’m nothing. Glasses, a pen. I ‘have no memory.’ I can’t tell if I hate what I just said. There’s an I-do to waiting to talk, finding your spoken-ness, listening to Arcade Fire impersonate refinement.

Mean of them, there’s a message. All you have
to do is ...

Choose your words as a buy or rent parallel yet defunct phenomena within quanta. Choosing ten words creates an entire platform to spin off constructs, happenstance survivors plucked out of a good number of now-dead parallels. Here’s how.

“When a word is selected” as “‘vivid detail’,” W. Empson insists, “a reader may suspect alternative reasons why...” You’d think a (any) detail had to be spinning two or more ideas resolved into one or n unconnected meanings. Yet one construct says if you choose any (a) detail with alternative but similar meanings (to clear the air of infinity), it will enter into a lucky confusion where you discover your idea in the act of thinking, an idea that possesses both a) more than one detail with n meanings as well as b) meanings that are unconnected. Per the quantum metaphor, a single spinning detail can represent separate entities and oppositions, 0 v. 1 (moderately unsweetened v. vanilla loft) simultaneously. Consider a row of ten unrelated meanings forcing you to invent interpretations containing not only one number from 1 to 1,023 (x itself), say, or just one flavor-set ranging from 1 up through the lofts (x n), but also all numbers and flavors. Once you intuit contradiction in a system, the lucky confusion collapses, and one number or flavor engages at random; the rest enter time-sensitive sleep.

I can’t see this because it’s a super mess from my position. And here. Just felt like adding.

To me your present was a symbol.

Take as much time as you need.

The All-sports Beats are not individualists or individuals, much less rugged ones. But they would have to write out of control. Often within an osmotic zeit fragen to compress. I don’t think they have to invent more practices wholesale or discover things exceptionally cool. I mean cool beyond occult technology. Or do I?

The main thing is to tell a story. It is almost very important.

− − Frank O’Hara et al.

Those writers focus on writers. Focus is writing. Travel writing packs my after, better in the dark when plants get shifted.

China’s philosophers are not unique in carrying on the tradition we transmit. This retranslation is all opinion like in resizing the electrolyte. We see they are seeing. Tell me how you will avoid what they say?

Minnie’s tat is special.

Where was I? ..breaking down of the ‘right’ color skills in late afternoon. S
may have that
it’s pulled out

He’s forgotten more than I can acquire / classify in snow to do the slather more
I don’t have the brains to have a handbag

Yet I’m taking comfort to be close to you
eating grapes

I will never betray metaphysics oxidizing into beauty goals
I forgot the Kennedys I forget the Dead Kennedys and video pastiche
more, more patchwork from an event that’s marked
with an open look

..wait for it
a department over the ocean
no mesh (I forget to send you this)

calculate the exact 2/3rds of issues that are not specific
to verify

no synonym on the surface
I forget impeccable accounting
I forget when I had nothing more to give

Not going to lie to you, I watched you dream of economics affecting a radius of birthday cake, like the Depuis chip, stabilizing its temperament within, the looter and rhombus-gatherer doing well; their great work cuts straight through its restructure creating more patterns they can abandon.

It becomes a soundtrack. Feels like about time, epic sums the new slender totem, the walkway and instrumentation

have to be done right. I clink my Solo cup, wondering about tidbits of ideology, hyper-literal churning depth. (I always get stuck in the wrong line.) It might be the progressives were on genome probation.

This is that world’s decision theory now.

You're supported in combat; hang from a pullup bar and perform
Your day, cheap, whore-y breakfast or billiards?

So far I can tell you what it’s like to watch.

The banner reads, an existentialist walks into a room. Any room. He surveys the crowd w/ just unnerving-enough withholding to remind us of a full lunar eclipse.

Distracted, I heard “Continue − to enter the contest area − Continue.”

I then heard you drawling, It’s hard to know why I left you
At Liberty of London for other arch-liberals

As the If-Movement (aspirations) can be thought
Therapy you can pump off, & so on

Coming clean is part of that sense of closeness

: the War Council sneering w/ stuck-up nihilists like these on the porch
Veranda-ing in deze rubriek.

Briefly, chimp needs a new way to be policed as though proposition and semantics are key [snap] decisions, the contest, argument, insult, the shaming within a sub-class of invective, the face-off or rap to persuade waverers. This sketched in wood as with Gaius Valerius Catullus, Martial, non-weak bits of Julius Caesar, Romeo and Juliet, and Much Ado About Nothing, “The Battle of Maldon,” where Saxon and Welsh sat on decline benches and threw insults at each other across the Blackwater banks, add Middle English, “The Owl and the Nightingale,” flytings of the Skalds of Old Norse in Simone’s Saga and Droplaugarsona Saga, as well as the Scottish “Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy” and the “Flyting of Montgomerie and Polmart,” plus vomitous insult from the Irish non-prose-nor-poetry: They maintain snowflakes continue boasting of ‘their’ oscillation lists.

Sex drive is on the chimp’s brain (one of x?), too, so a few words take on character. I’m trying to clean this up but [snip] I have to leave enough ‘intent’ to keep me happy after I’m finished. This is an extremely limited procedure, so I’m framing it time-is-tight manufacture...

Sweatwear:

Lab Wheel − it gives him a glimpse into conditions shaped for war or a time ahead shaped by time that goes by.

for GDG

Your 3rd meal together
The freezing progress of a republic
The make and break of any pulse

What I failed to clarify after glamor there’s power
Wolfed down improv crap
A Marx collaborator or was there a fee?

The sous-perfect makes you angry
Every time and place of my choosing.
Act gathered.

The virus is already inside you.

Hunting is the lather of swing.
Remember thoughts?
What if it doesn’t work. Now? Then what?

No one move comes back
a trick the unexcelled Spinoza observes when a lather forms.

Seems it is.

Tibetan for first blood frontier work fitting a Tum for depressors

Adapting to the whole spectrum of sunset color by headstrong fielders, curves and sinkers, and weightless powder finish.

Japanese beyond assets.

That.

The 10 impulses exist. Great coaster. We can go for a ride? Dark or Swiss?
That the singular would be correct appears a flaw in the eye of secession.

We were on foot.
That’s what it looks like or sounds like, not is.

This could keep on as long as no one cared to read into it.

to continue..
I slept 26 hours.

I seemed to learn hybrids can become dated overnight.

Insert bonus mile and exchange the unlocking mechanism, dorky
pathos that can only end in a draw sustained by two
washing up, and for now we stretch for an hour.

The float is radiant, jammed with radiant things
but no, if you had been eloquent on the spot
we’d need no caption.

What does there’s still a move to go do?
It’s just a feeling, the only unmoving part.

“You’ll die a lounge act.”

Aubrey Beardsley thought not long ago, “Turn away if you can from the watered down specifics and follow a new realm of far out methods. To protect yourself from a wrong-headed (naïve) amplification and still call this ‘transactional,’ you simultaneously want to limit data to phenomenal discourse that can be easily observed and restrict these data as conditions of expedient production within self-contrived ideology and poetic history.

It’s vilely personal. Straighten your head more.”

The polls are now tightening.

The pattern is breaking. Please do something with this for me.

It’s for a good reason there’s oblong smoke from your business and pay, hey, how’s it going for memories in today’s technology, helpless to the core

Sadr has been well-named.

If you can do it fast here you can do it anywhere.

I almost forgot this. Permission to speak freely, señor? That means you, Nepal. Maybe I’m foreshortened, shapeless taking up prerequisites of munificence in governance,

not crying to lessen the gravity, still I’m listening and I hear a noise. It could be me reduced in size talking to you. I’d like to restore us intact.

For I’m a free agnostic about most anything important, postcritical, or shaded and flat coming to terms with emotion and architecture. The term “free” creates clutter underlying the unfinished bike path that never ends. Giving something away like ambience, beautifully made, you’ll be taken up on your offer.

No sniveling. Security is really tight with the meta-relatives.

Spinless, the question of trees and other solids (flakes) watch and settle during the simian takeover. They’re in on the take.

There’s a luxury of raw energy in your audience. Invite a volunteer.

You read in the report one guy came up to deny he said he saw angels be sunburned strangers glancing backward as though all is well with the stats, their stats,

as though you never knew the ‘aggressively disposed’ on a first-person basis or you forgot the name of the enslaved for vampiring the engines, and there’s no way your buyers are reluctant to pay for their music.

My proof is your topic that you can paraphrase without experience.

Let’s say you are a 14-year-old who was near-death but coming back to life. You say you saw strangers, that is, the appearance of strangers that fades away, empowering you to disown a reaction, enacting the life form of an intellectual exchange

squeegeed pain in the foot from bee stings, an improvised hermaphroditic feeling gerrymandered in ambiguity and ferment that after a while floats away, released at last into some newly impartial state of brittle ignorance

for Lou Reed

I read Alice Notley’s “Lady Poverty” at Noreen’s celebratory memorial yesterday. Coming to the simple talk,

Beginning in poverty as a baby there is nothing
for one but another’s food and warmth

was precarious-going and suspenseful as to which ways I could turn to get through it. There is a face-saving slow-down with repetition just before the food and warmth segment, at the end of the next-to-last stanza, that presses us on the plain, face level of impoverishment, where I can catch my breath:

rake the dirt
like Mrs. Miller used to
down at the corner had a desert yard and raked her dirt.

Noreen loved the poem, and many at First Unitarian bawled along as it concludes

I seem to know that the name of a self is poverty
that the pronoun I means such and that starting so
poorly, I can live

I’m from a safe district. A wilderness created deep inside the seminar, which is an organized fraud, so I’ve got your back, familiar, deep and shallow, pleasant. I lost myself. Again, thanks.

We can’t always gather this way. The new geography traces staff into wistful landscapes, hum-vacuumed, cuddling an escalation in misrule with binomial clout, ha and cunning. The brilliant live over, sure enough, in one vetted phrase, a word, always have, hereby fudging abasement with a clean biography filled with food and drugs. Sorry concentrates.

Tell me tho − what new use is there for geography? One that at that.

There’s out of water

nothing so nothing to appoint at your peak. Tomorrow there’s a few years from now.

Every confinement serves a purpose within supernumerary states of being confined, most often unannounced like minor readjustments in the light of your body for a moment, and I feel better.

None of my monks wrote an inscription for our monument. It read: Just because we attribute what we know to swimming exhausted doesn’t mean he wasn’t a Bodhi / a physique with a hammer in hand. Nailing us together takes a moment of my life that I don’t love or hate.

Whatever takes substance and breadth, I’m not doing it!

Seems ok. Brutes prefer to train in the cold explains nothing to explain.

At first, passing out on a blackwood chaise seems mediocre, not horrible, whimsical, maybe. I love your idea but I repent to appease you, bring you back shouting, perhaps. The old first thought and don’t think are non-meaning and more tired than original; both simultaneous perception of opposites let go,

causing internal illogic and more hysteria to pour up or mostly plunge in a fainting way yet it’s a rocking house party, like losing both death and life.

Can you penetrate what ethos there shows not growing up empty of teaching without holiness? To understand this way amounts to ridiculing the state of barons and proles. (I remember the salad shooter.)

(Someone asked me not to do this.) That’s how not-shitty is while our so-called public face makes a living, picking and choosing without difficulty. What kind of government takes things more lightly?

It’s here. Helium released — thrown in reverse in fall — trees light up again, everything’s on the table, throwing your slutty voice in the snow across a disheartened bone yard of axioms supposing its completion, turning shrine–y meadow.

The wall faces Heading 1

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Your first lovers could not find your mind. Then we happened to answer, seeing
the wind is fixed on the floor, and circles in midair. We see your point.

We don’t want to be a second try for our silent partners we all seem hellbent being.
That, and we understand we can meet you without seeing you.

He said no way, I don’t like it, blah!

we exaggerated because this is how we understand,
it’s your taste, what do you think?

That’s the gist.

Buried for dead but still in view:
If I put my hands a..
you can’t hear me you’re going too fast (bicyclist to bicyclist).

It’s a mistake in the tradition but it gets you to the shore with one shoe in hand.

I will find you.

Eurovision rhymes. We mostly orchestrate filming and documentation
tho orchestrate is imprecise. This is a paragraph or so.

There was something we could share 11 minutes before

for a type of the world you are
in the vicinity of information seen seeming on top (of it).

Kicked passed phase G
cements form the plastic posture.

Down the.
Farted Carbon. “Bleach.”

This is weird. Sounds agreeing
w/ newer media that grow with loaf.

Yesterday’s children are unlike mirrored shrubs, Mr Pop.
Are you good w/ ago —

that’s a direct but not unserious question
per the Court of Professional Hair and Dead Sea Cops.

I told you I’d rather de-mine material
than be collaborating, writing this down

11 minutes ago.

A cool looking Japanese statistician told me I go for the moody and not expected.

The color of the spine high and low, unlikely yet foreseeable.

So I put my name in every ghazal. Am I fit for that? Are you and I? I ran out of balls rating you. I found what he says emancipating, since the data are hardly unadulterated, driving me, well..

Doesn’t it freak you all when categories are givens you don’t need to work out?

I have a sentence for everything. This is a transition.

Some of you is more sound-oriented while translucence flushes downhill.

Your heart is non-music-industry.

Solitude, confidences, you’ll learn times in the day, the plays and the jungle of paradigms.

Space between faces adds up what you say waiting, keeping your eyes busy on the platform.

And there you go, retreating to that panoptic middle ground where they still come up with innuendos to bag the new, addled priest wiggling his back end, half orchid, half gold, a toss-up.

This has been said a little bit before vegetative blood.

I’m ex-singing of course in slow motion I see

a dart has feathers & it flies around materiality

or maybe this is how we do it & / or don’t, giant spooned,

grouchy, scaling down the polluting firm’s driving north

as Stalin executed the pyramids. Then vapor became all for it, both arms.

That’s a pretty bold next step. Your book, it’s staring out the window, saved-up.

To aggregate is to achieve; that said, a file results, followed by a deficiency of thought, of ideas. All the same, this is the second point.

Adorno says plain speech is starting over in the middle but it’s a real, dreary beginning, an opaline as it were, marked by both natural and technical production, meaning either way.

Also we’re reading Mina Loy who abandoned three kids in Italy to take up egg crate sculpting in New York, realizing her dream performance in “Fidelio.”

So, with regard to static and its ovoid, stasis, in a compulsive battle over some ultimate smiley face, it’s not just who grinned first that counts, but also wherever and however. That’s my middle point for the interim.

The collection centers on content while something sober on the ground keeps looking up like most data that prospect on appearances. This defines a pinch of stairs.

Everything I note here is integrated, resonating with a prism thru which you can point to the horizon that’s both magnified and askew. If you admit you rejoice in tricky intersections you’ll be taking sides.

I am touched by everyone now alive,

a naive conjecture about thinking this is taking care.
Moods are out, given our place in the new biology. We bear no respon-

sibility for foundering within the social paradox of violence.

As noted the product is on the loose. Complete white-out,
softest jazz, lower right, your lips moving up and down,
talking design shit. This mirror for sale, for example.
Janus has everything as he knows. How can a bantam weight =
feigner? his husband asked over the phone.

You can’t believe how broad the brushstrokes
it takes to embrace you, which reminds me I won’t believe you
until I have your attention and whelm. Bloomberg told
me the full F.T. is not for blinking out. I’m laughing I bought it
for the value of a block of ice cold kitsch last summer.

That’s the Wayne in Janus.
I just want him to come over here.

A ham declares,

to think transactionally, mewl. Sometime in October you can retract. Someone else’s woeful cows fill in as a preview of what will become beaten but breathing w/ mutts redistributing rheumy earbuds and the back yard will regenerate, stink better.

But the inner spaces, poets in their teens need to put on a much rheumier show, I think I said that, and made it a quote: a dream of immense sadness peers through me promising not to point. Of course there’s a way or two out.

We permeated where you and I should have

hemopxel in 14 countries. Diagnosis in any original sense (I have a rival who keeps me on his toes.) is a mystery.

There may be more formlets of propositions. An even smellier way

than this newer mystery of avoiding one another’s silence in the face of attainment. Heya, that it or no? Your people were unstoppable (on Blackberry). The pump house has its procedures, howe’er. Lightheaded fishing stops a bullet. The pillar edges out like the flat nova in I. Got. You. Am.

I’ve always been mad about to point. So the others doesn’t count.

And I’ve always been secular. Silence strong.

[Rewrite as a song] She loves some of the same things he withdrew. He’s going to remember this. There were damaged utterances in his case. [As a commander she can steal from herself and call it his...] It just feels wound up to outpace an apparatus [not properly issued for commentary].

You have to figure it out on your own. I hate what I just said.

You’re not alone. Our dojo is chewed over, sculpted penmanship.

And here’s an apple

for the reacher. (He taught your addiction.) It’s a straightforward proposal:

You can see what's been picked out.

Neuroplasticity feels like games.
Try Mangrove Gripped in Saliva.

Swimming
Synchronized.

As a composer in this case,
not the narrator,

one pleasure is borrowing sentences to raise his
consciousness. A filament like A snap tide itemizes all bets.

Beach safety — wow, everything has that just-did-it-for-creation stench.
All experience is seriously correct. But what is identity?

Still
how can it be effortless if I tell you what I’m doing?

I’m in no hurry. A life is charged
for care. What cottage reluctance (like student conviction) is.

Now my head is cleared.
(Have to go.)

There he is preaching to tenors that need you.
(Drive safely.)

Software permeates philosophy,

so sex in the head is amazing, coventry gray, amherst charcoal,
a perimeter of asphalt whilst lecturing to a square insult comic. The name is Qingqing.

The meaning of structure is un-manacled, somedays the words are latinate for summer’s fixed width.

Plots don’t belong here; it’s thanks for speaking up for the Skia font family. Next we’re feeling a little wisp waiting for a train to ‘what’s out there,’ fidgeting self-mastery even in spiteful moments — was it something to do with me? I don’t think

that changes my life. Oh, yeah, the breeze alliterates this off, too.

The antihero has amnesia. A cheap brush with / at the brim of syzygy, standing there she picked up the phone and ‘dialed’ another number.

I see yours but no thanks. This is tomorrow.

With this destruction of our marriage, we constitute the Non-Group taking part in a phony ritual to outlast how nice that would be.

No one can help us switch landmass.
To set you and me up is to hit a musician within an I-hate-calculus speech act,

now unfolding to take us out, shake us tamed.

I’m that slaphappy-proof to diffuse your feeling me up. What you said is part of it.
A muddled cool from so many drugs the craftmatics forget to breathe.

[Rewrite]

Before cymbals came up and the 1st song reached out, and long before the whole body gets parsed, there were snores of ancestors and their coughs and grunts crowding in together in caves. Back then the body taught itself phonemes with shrieks and groans to signal pain, humming to sign comprehension and varietals of cognition.

Teamwork. Our people are what make us great.

I’m out on a date, now, with Mittens, while I go thru assembly,

the taking of whatever works to exchange the hand that feeds me.

My fiber is malnourished now thanks to wind of the locals.

Our sunset seminar in coconut milk hurts according to their slung allegory. So why does it get processed thru history?

Scruff breaks off to play Live Fire.

The sea festival pieces had long been sounded but I’m back dabbling in capitalist craftwork and, that’s if I hit what I feel crazy fancy, and headed for greatness in the morning. It’s different from the evening on and you hit back.

Along with you I’m sad about this being push-notified by memorized drill: pluralizing by the converted. We’ve turned into clients. Then came the filching of imitation in the filtered water..

... brief punches of text look great on the phone!

& visuals, production-geared and prosaic at base, that is, a-theoretical, factual. Broken, misunderstood.

Down here we let this happen, instantly, phonemically.

Sonnet

I was never in 2 places enough to ask permission
(trying to please paid better)

so that got to you. The back strings of time-space shout some limit.

Got that myself.

Totally new a petting zoo cannot stand for practice —
not while the restless recover from numbness :
blessed are the thin angles of light made identical, emotionally,
extrapolated to driving that home. That’s the super-definition :

Vaccinated, merciless itch, what is the homeland we travel?
Passing thought immortalizes the X+one “casting
of cities” thinking past us. A true 2 years before
messing with you. Why did we wait?

The tank smoke is elevated. (Parens are helpful.)

I’m back with my typos, a hiatus to find my mind breathing, so much so this looks stupid. Start over. Whom will you discover?

On the third post you really had us and were all over us. You didn't have to what the hell? We told you we agreed a little but not a lot. I forget now what you sound like. I’m choked up by the plot running out, suspended. It’s unlikely there’s more about the future and of course less. And some things you need to repeat.

That was at the start. I know that.

Taking chances put us in this lissome interpretive state (birth). Function varies widely. Lilac is a favorite zest. Then it plummets into difficulty. Here we are, talking about it.

If that’s everything for now, we’ll switch to metonymy. Slangy hypotheticals never miss. Or is it a geyser in a box? Gimme a tummy poke, infant Satan asleep inside the womb! It’s like a prelude / nano habitat exploding with party frogs! There’s an aspect of covered wagons and vultures dropping eyeballs in fake vomit. It’s no to rational sisterhood. No to our house on a cliff behind the house. It appears we’re operating in sludge bubbles where a tribal language — just so you know, I love what you’ve done with the place, the crumbling infrastructure, squishy puppies and pit ponies boosting those who surround my home — over here — the canonical devotion to be obtained in They has been called something, something pastoral. Let’s start with that idea and see if it pertains. Here.

If someone is on fire, do we take their place?

“Every man is a Rimbaud issue, be mine as we consider more relax words,

northern flickers w/ masked ducks or

a painter at noon," someone who routinely does things
that would be awesome if intentional.

“Purple black teal — the axioms are exaggerated.
The murders we’re in control in ruined by the sounding-it-out tools.

Very good: Very goo. I mean knocking the repenters
off, throwing knives, wrecking them from the inside, slicing up!

A game of gloves is long overdue. And I’m back in the duck shoot, now
reading and writing without an attorney. That’s how the paint sails.”

[Rewrite]

Read this. I did. Resolved, the body is loaded with symbolism for all seasons. My mind messed up. Sun pours down, unobstructed in the region. “Prepare your red matter.”

I’m leaving disjunction behind. To work with you (our plan) is one way to avoid subjectivity as a nominal fallacy.

To be anyone who will die isn’t perverse, it’s the inside dress code.

Ah, holism doesn’t come naturally, Nickolas Christakis. Yet the parts know how to grow, Benjamin Aranda.

A Cretaceous bunny stuffed in an envelope is ludicrous. It’s untidy and young. I basically authorize it. While your back-and-forth is rubbed into my hair / no-hair in all these dubious directions you’re going in until you do onslaughts in self presence

that’s the game self, yourself, perhaps, to squelch a tautology of actions that seem certain when hidden by how far you are beaten into their projections.

We are of navy birth, feeling not so bad about the brief gleam that seethed with rank fidelity, a gazing furl trying to gnarl sparkle to figure our life together

our history, ok sunsets standing in the waves like Jennifer Moxley’s “arc of grace, a mystical exit from the trap / of birth chance and bloodlines, call it talent / or perhaps obedience: mostly we are poor.”

Your search had no results.

The time is split into categories of use for work, the sinister about-face of a system download added to our labor.

A life sentence for causing a ruckus.

Call me when you are ready.

You are the incomplete I never finished off in the hold.

Justice, liberty, rule of law...

Also, it’s easy for you, suddenly, to have fitter enablers to soften my last interruption using little consonants in your throat.. we’re holding firm. How many epochs of parallel scenery will it take?

The air fills with similar results we can pin on like tendrils and use later on blind dates and..

This is not a test. My every utterance is for expressing the park telling jokes.

The place was beautifully democratized. The beginning seemed and was (again again) :

To qualify what happens & delay what this is take interpenetration among important guys running this.

I’m reading Jean Cocteau again and watching Butterfield 8.

Richard Howard translates Cocteau, Unknown and betrayed, that is a poet's fate, the and italicized. To continue, There's another slant to male deadpan, social conditioning in lexical pragmatics. The schema echoed by take-downs, inflammable straw men (physique / text), and clustered pellets (biodata), whose immolation compels male gut pleasure. The instant take-down / &-out. You can’t have deadpan without it.

Granted, on a more personal note, I can maintain a liberal apolitical pronoun to cry my way into teaching Jean to hate what I hate.

You too. Sorry, I have no other associations I can share. I was running through work everywhere. Don’t know why we are in this automatic summation of now or a minute from now after the transaction but before it turns up on your phone. Last thing, I thought our agreement was ‘fuzzy,’ a few elements incised to form solid bands connected to what I could see up to the valley.

I should not be this famous without blinking .. Waiting for a drive on a weekend
in the future 3 —

you’ll miss the pick-up. You already have.
Hello. Your voice means a lot in a pastural ...

You see, there’s a cloying aspect when able bodies gather to
phenotype, we have to line up the device of warm visual partners.

I had called this gateway the dooryard where wealth is taken in-
to far correlates inventing a new intelligence of largess. It

all comes with us. If you invest now, daylight garners you
a vinyl film stairwell math to snap out of going off half-

tuned, footloose & naked but hidden by underwear.
(Triumph is creepy. I remember the salad shooter.)

Coda’s darting endnotes on drums. & pity nowhere now w/
dark engendered power .. Cavaradossi!

I will get a spanking. Yes.

I’ll misfile principles under stretch rigs, w/ others,
the higher ones, in baroque-neurotic drift put to sleep.

Any higher are not talking,
there’s tighter discipline.

There’s a method to share. Society likes building coherence. When we make out I see cubism & new media touched all over or felt
athletically.

It’s overrated, I whisper to you, myself, falling for the steam ’n stream ingredients.

Here’s one’s take on the ’N-Sync reunion. It’s
an illusive healing (a method) stitched to transparency (washes of shadow)

& aspected by hedges, almost.
To go on we shoot back & shift subjects

in compliance with bets we place... whereby
bluegrass conflicts vis à vis breakfast & rubbery clouds, the proverbial irony.

One’s position is reincarnation roughs it, because it’s safe to lounge at home without saying oh,
wait we did this already.

Home is a test pattern where the class marshal escapes, holding out protractedly for that nest
egg, so dropping the opposite side.

You may have noticed I’m on the side of the construction of meaning, & one very long eyebrow (as wingspan), felt
& continuous with last summer that had no purpose, just sheer falsetto.

The wind from the south is rambunctious.
What south represents may be playing tricks on us. You wake up & up next, you’re vapid.

You want in? Try some eye accessing cues, carve out what rafter was seen strapped at the top. A noun for emphasis
could be imagined.

There’s a method to share.
Let’s go through the stream. Gavel to gavel what we say converts to light rain, weather
personalities & stunt making. Hours & ours.

For serious instrumental music
“I promise we won’t bean you with a bag of nickels.” Cheater,
there’s a figment in our remains, the quartet’s on a mission; higher
         up, the splat’s part doodle / association we can void
as a hoist to operate prayer in all directions. Smile. Shall we?

No further down, the tones operating with phenomenological genomes,
lattices, an industrial park at the corner sheeted in quick-fire
milled cement, plywood & dust.

Private-public ideas, still hidden, gone native, & of fine voice.
          “A voice & nothing more.”

There is a lil automated palletizer of bread
with industrial KUKA robots in a bakery
in Germany where groove is still a verb.

The odd relay repeated.

I did my research. We don’t do pinpricks, I’m told.
I’m not adding bespoke grammar to discontinuous anguish.
That would be another season’s U Da Pothole
puck-aged shadows, not today.

                              Lastly, I’m worshiping
a Shrek glass while the full loom of grasses
blows town including the swerve parts since this
is like the rest that could potentially be used
again until such a time when it gets replaced.

That I think of you.

[Pause.]

ii.

Anyway, I retract my falsehoods. & for the same sutra
I condemn & mourn meritocracy. For / & all men
are servants (JC et al.) that nonetheless practice geo-metry
to inspect the brain. (I don’t think it’s called Trampoland
         for nothing.)

It’s nice finally to put a face to the humiliating nickname.

So, leave the top 2 buttons undone. Fate
shouldn’t adapt what’s spindly or bang
it home. There’s nothing else except that
distasteful impression of Mel Gibson
in red shoes. (Footwear is a hot mess for
men.) A sick mind resists emotion solving
puzzles. Are you going to put that there?

It dawns on me I am covered in bacon
reform. Instincts are mostly buried under
cement, sunk talking to each other, eh?
They were hard to get out of the wrinkled
valise (I removed the tongue). Lilia’s Pond
plays daylight for boucle, searing, puffy,
relaxed, with that living unlocked smell.

Paired off & straight to the point of getting hooked,

as surely as there is a heart to math there are biblical truths about achieving horror.

I’m brusque. The new job title is urgent. Everything is ahead of something else via motives, & we're underhanded getting back to a pure axiom we can manipulate;

nothing is copious for the obtuse

[...can’t stop it...through language [how about] [...] cheesy time lapses in which [traveling backward] speech & narrative continuity become incrementally

transformed into the next thing that declares amnesty?

or / and like crustaceans we give in, to forgetfulness.

Blinds drawn, our overly prefixed, scavenged opacity fills with sang-froid & riches of dark matter that covers your dissatisfaction with its comic pedigree.

Before that yoga is fantastic, a civilizing process added to eternal space & entered into by a worldview that offers libations & supports you from underneath.

Speaking of the pure land, we have none. We swim in it.

She loves some of the same things he withdrew.

He’s going to remember this. There were deleted utterances in the surface structure. [As a commander she can steal from herself to make something up and call it his...] September hence is being looked into. It just feels wound up terribly to outpace an apparatus [not properly issued for commentary].

You’re not alone. The whole month is chewed over, sculpted penmanship.

And here’s an apple

for the teacher. (He caught your addiction.) It’s a straightforward proposal:

You can see the signs.

Neuroplasticity feels like games.
Mangrove Gripped in Saliva.

Swimming
Synchronized.

As a composer in this case,
not the narrator,

one pleasure is borrowing sentences to raise his
consciousness. A filament like A neap tide itemizes all bets.

Beach safety — wow, everything has that just-did-it-for-creation stench.
All experience is seriously correct. But what is identity?

Still
how can it be effortless if I tell you what I’m doing?

I’m in no hurry. A life is charged
for care. Cottage roadkill is on the menu. Now my head is cleared.

(Have to go.)

There he is preaching to tenors that need you.
(Drive safely.)

You’re both bat shit over the Audi. Well, I really enjoyed it.
95 percent awesomely small for a verse play of the photogenic, unstopping scents, 4
wheels, moon roof, lounging in queue for the motorcade. You can’t predict what you are going to do,
and there aren’t enough shortcuts to go around to encapsulate your suspicions.

What does he look like now? It’s ok to ask?

Snaps of skepticism, sharpened anomalies.

An etude like celebrity.

Ancestors understood by these scarves we housesit,
patched in resistance, creating busy, making-chaos “work”
enacting a more cautionary life, absent trifles and your intuitive psychiatry.

The music took off about here, 1st looked wonderful along the quays with embarrassed
breakpoints to the past, thinning out in the high style of ending (Otto Dix). Something hesitant
but better starts the engine (cherry red) to recover what takes over

moving and sounding-it-out — the marsh gets exaggerated. Let’s conquer death with abundance.

Evasion foregrounds style and motives. Abruptly per the Chronicles of..

Bieber Values rhymes with the Ladytron inside earnest emotion.

Reading Delmore Schwartz repeatedly gives me head.

We or most of us have an attorney, after all. But this looks stupid

To vocalize what’s sunk in, I can’t worry or pierce my ears further.

I unbuttoned my supplies and pulled the first-day ‘turtle’ out and began to think of golf, wondering if I had enough saliva to give it even one full coat.

At one point Nixon loved China followed by the end of history.

The declension in the passage next is on advice of a clawback to choral music with a view. This of an airedale.