Learning, teaching he’s drunk on bounce.

I’m a fan of the modernism of estimating what flow back in time from prior polemic.

“Gobble, gobble, gobble, I’m talking Chimp now!”

(English drapery completes these sentiments. Yet never over stays.)

What’s next? I am a crescent metal, easy to pick up, feed and embrace after the climate changes.

A blue feeling about a teen heart is breaking over almost any sentence, this one, a bad idea. An idea with particularity. A feeling for the bread before it rises stuffed with controversy that lasts.

Mick Jagger is blue in the face.

To find Fra Angelico innocuous you would be as dumb and innocent as a physicist sculpting junk and emptiness.. the future! There’s a tattoo for that. Promote your event.

Scars are luxury goods. But none of this mattered at the time.

It was his hair.

Memes, Luciano, remembering our walks, we in the wet trudging..

though below 7%, unemployment among household heads, subsequent foreclosures = the largest causes of forcing children into poverty.

Have forgotten how to punctuate near-imperatives. It began with the airlines. Their only product is service that dissolves midair w/ winged conjecture, casual panic, unbolted chairs. It’s as if Poulenc got into libido trouble, and like Napoleon months earlier, he snored through fulfillment, undressed to force a smile. Sharp, red shoulder blades, his gainsaying oomph...

some berserk contact squeezes topical structure into shadows that are numb to conversation.

And like peers who frame their searches socially, we learnt lightly, slathered w/ axioms over the poor and excluded. Other memes are what we are deft w/. So the poor-excluded doesn’t count? I can’t tell, I wouldn’t know.

When instrumentalists and the poor struck an alliance at the beginning, we thought this is no way to do poetry although our ultimatums were rephrased and moral aspirations became more footloose and empirically incontestable as Seven Bagatelles.

Your snobbishness killed me.

No monks wrote the inscription for our ashes. It reads: Just because you’re not there to attribute what we know to swimming exhausted doesn’t mean these two weren’t Bodhis / each physique w/ a hammer in hand. Nailing our souls together takes a moment of life that we don’t love or hate.

Whatever takes substance and breadth, we’re not doing it!

Seems ok.

This is a good time to get some sun, which is a tragedy.

Sun is carrying notes to bounce back to her pals. Come here, Lady, tha s !

I can’t make her work.

Something’s missing. Cabs are scarce at this hour I guess.

I’m in no hurry.

There are three pleasure substitutes. Here’s one, an itch to borrow sentences to raise one’s consciousness. The tide itemizes all bets.

The frayed honeymoon is second and last, and it’s normative, blushing with its lil song of guts and neurons dead in the bottle. (Drive away safely.)

After a honeymoon deflections accrue. There’s the animal that needs you.

I’m expecting something.

I’m Aldo.

No, you are.

We’re a special team.

Right about here we want clarity about motives, the construction seems unpinched, slightly, giving voice to raindrops in a long silence we back out of.

What about cleverness and famine?

Standing in rain assumes moral delay. Now the sun is shining, nipping, filing matter, spinning, capturing the dress casual of our meaning it but not tempted.

A cool looking Japanese statistician slow-motioned to me to go for the moody and not expected.

Doesn’t it freak you when categories are givens you don’t need to work out? Some of you is more there you go, retreating to emancipating solitude, more sound-oriented as translucence flushes transitions keeping face, adding up the wait time you say, keeping your eyes busy on that panoptic sentence for everything.

Feeling comfort in disruption is one point of a number in Graduate Course Six. Together, we define entire affability arcs of ironic laughter in a series of slippery zoning disputes.

Any abstract attitudes are buried below our gestalt-like collective strip down to the ashen stem cells of relatively unspeaking as tho.

Body-snatching, the second point is you and I have to join the others, since our lives are directionless in Rose County. Good night, wallet.

And [...there is no outside [...] only what’s already here [what I breathe] inside, which is perpetually immature, impulsive...] [and]

I see the wind smudging a porch.

I’m scared. Good night to expose an accident or two that don’t matter, made tactical as we circumvent a few exchange elements, remaking spatial morality into chance agency, no vision, no dash, no longer having to know.

And that reminds me, great sex is immediate, overwhelming, terse & of a Castilian order. A hundred decors & one Dame Hess at the piano. The endive bloats. George Balanchine.

Bellwethers, fey bloodhounds are sub-jazz. If suicide in the instant barter were handing off potential thru another’s wedding gown, then this is now for fit lips, usually wet. Brainy ellipses

becoming day after night. No thanks or so. We did one thing in complete common. Everyone bristled.

Other times coming to tatters oneself on the outside crawls with futures that are gimme-erotic, circumspect. (I’m just beginning to explore them.) Their symbolism weighs in as a shortcut, “I need me.” It’s a lovely tirade. (Jack Spicer)

All thus was mirrored in the meantimes. So you detect I’m pretending to be theirs at one’s asinine behest, pet swapped, intimidating a party in conflict. As a consequence doors open, & I’m auto-electrocuted.

The inscription read, “Angelo Poliziano, I mean intact, the rule of meaning

architecturally, you’re my business.

I have heard talent & beauty come by their own right, by your putting them to rest they took ‘full effect’ without attachment to addictive capital, arresting back. Is this documentary or did I make it up? — classicists couldn’t be serious about ghosts but there they are in sleep after only 5 days blindfolded.

Such brilliant dislocations are expected as to remember Lacan was reading Lacan from the start. After him, seems mathematical to think about transmissions favorably, tho programmers have a fiercely vandal-like impression of judgment under uncertainty.

So this is an edit. That’s as close as I have to lush, less certain, too-ennobling a pulse.”

It’s what it read.

To put it together, anonymity makes what’s inside disappear with our bed in it, the last day we saved together and suddenly beyond a bright pulling apart at the summitry of escape, a novel about reading, a traveler’s world, capitalism, the flowering of exercise, birthing a slave, volunteering strategies to the future.

But calmed down. There’s a dual nature of justice going around in “resentment and forgiveness” with top notes we won’t erase, some fantastic appliance, jittery, active against the grain. It reaches a point at which touch management is unleashed.

I’m just commenting. Crazy ’bout the poems.

Undressed — except for slacks — anonymous like Updike but I turn up as Camus. Look me in the eye and diagram conditions of spatial sentences (touching both elbows behind your back) . .

The turning is falling in pitch. It was your idea. To do without a list.

A poem is a picture. For my setting I’m holding a Shrek glass of water as sexual scaffolding defies its own bird properties, degraded after sunset, shaking to a grin brink like arfs in loops.

This is a picture of aroma like hydrangea in labor (staging nightmares) — in labor we chose our birth parents; this is a tenet of some.

Yet it’s with visuals of pleasure I’d be holding you for conniving to carpet silence. O Amerigo

In this picture you and I are rounding off contrasting demands of flimsy seriality and sequence, conquering death with abundance.

Beginning I was angry buying my first balance-ledger. (Moleskin.) But I learned a lesson.

There was no progress

when I met her on a ferris wheel. (Most peacekeepers are she-s, according to Fellini.)

Before there was vitality in diffusion or a crutch like levitation. Her specialties got molded. Molded like sister drummers and saxophonists playing to the masked hostility & indecisiveness of our environment, backing it up with inexact beats, multiplying sounds from what they did before the interim took hold.

There’s no party.

Then interim, hardened m.o.’s evaporated. We had sampled them from silences, lies & a feral sense of feeling cornered in a soulless piano practice session. Enough of these, enough men as well as women are resigned

wherein a smirk presses on — mass culture destroyed, life-changing sex.

That would be the solid thump / thunk in no progress.

The evaluations are in.

The landscape and who are on it are smoking hot. Our mood has risen from desolating satire to marsh puissance returned as a meadow variety of nibbling torque. Justice, liberty and rule of law (liberty with caution) ...

For team members, justice is made to look calculated. It’s easier to have a set of spring-summer consonants in your throat than break our rules and brag too much.

By caution as usual we mean caution to the core.

The political surface is bloody, colossal, fun, games, what some call discourse into action. Caution preserves the constructs protecting access to the core. The equation can be reduced to healing power = unhealthy options = smoking hot.

Nothing is unimportant. Send for Father Pierre.

“No self and no others” is a direct quote. At this point there was nothing left to do.

Memory glimpses now become trick parts. Down rabbit. Rascal. A long sigh [stolen] ‘“Ha-pp-ee!!”’

This is what then? ‘“One’ piece of empty solidity.” Not for those who have more.

It became interesting nothing could be done with a shade of unimportance.

If it were titled it’s on a panel.

It dawns on me

is taken of the whole
before it’s pasted onward

— it’s not utterly offhand.. rather:

We’re ordinarily against..
it’s called a change of heart.

Began how far ahead
we liberate ourselves to oppose counter bases.

Paul Broadnax & sidemen
adapt what’s spindly

talking to each other.

Core descriptions updated, untitled.

Later you and I went to the movies.
I was wearing the shorter
spring outfit again. I got it down in

the bus terminal,
a little installation

by itself.

There’s a term in hypertonic mitosis for attrition of affects, eyesore.

And there’s a struggle to housesit too much information. You know it exists. Human body fat is worth $60,000 a gallon.

This is the good gold.

A life is charged for care. I’m otherwise a coffee head, hustling all the time, awesome! But let’s pare it down.

Have we ever done anything but tamper with the weather? Oh, who knows? Oh, Ladytron. You seem so fake-excited in the sprayed periphery, staying in balance inside a soft radical vapor of anathemic bigness, loosely demolished.

There is no personality.
Going back, favoring the objective

boy-girl, you’re a mess.
I’m going to grab you. We are.

Shall I mark you as another ambition
in an illustrator’s incident layers

of highly varied chroma
guessing the wrong concision or hue

handed through fog sorting the dots’
congeries of texture? I turned and we asked again.
(It felt unwise.)

Modesty is unimpressive.

I’m a neo-accepter of things, making and being particles of objective misnomers, eating and breathing them, too, as the ideology-clean rhetoric of double quotes painting burgeons in vibrating blobs and officially sanctioned conjecture. Ergo rising, the evolution of disquiet is cutthroat, a huge family of junk, affixes and addictions to risk.

This knowledge effect brings on equivalents that prosper on a narrow isthmus, watching the seasons float in willpower. I never understood insinuation. I never misunderstood it, either, a civilized vide mecum. You can go right in. They have an open table.

There is a nothing. Yet nothing is forbidden.
Or a burst of daft tone substitutes for info of a lifetime.
I lower your voice to closest approximate parity.
Somewhere, what’s a sociopath? We have reality subtracting.

Finalists quit general practice — work converted to industry
with little or no honor system. That’s when actuaries
unmoor. Affection is vicarious info. Vicarious isn’t strong
enough. Inner, outer merge in our skulls, which can be broken
down, yet a lost cause. I’m driven to reach my market. Driven

to sketch sweet totems that “look pretty close” with my eyes
closed. And with that, I’ll use your language with no lexicon,

without conforming to a belief system to get forgotten.

So a redraft: is tentative after all meaning of structure. Herding cocktails, we sleep with a relationship. Rough seas but you’ve been in the sea field long enough, you know how we leverage missing you at a time when it’s least expensive. I’m happiest procrastinating, indexing suspicion and objurgating..

There’s transactional friendship, and it’s a job (like sloganeering) and, more elevated, craft (making a sign for consciousness to observe). To illustrate, job is to craft as sport is to haphazardly kicking down signs (as above). Don’t get me talking, unattempted sound is cool, and we’re for it and against any impingement unless it hurts the transaction. What’s it? There’s no work-around to the observer influencing the observed except later, much later.

Clinical algorithms infuse ideology and organize perception. Random samples predicted behavior.

Play along or sue.
You guys go ahead.

I’m going to take my inside voice and ...and turn around and

Out here I pledge you a wholly hidden vocab of renderings, leftovers to twist in the hot leafy acreage.

Pears and Fuji oak, null passages in fog. (The cracks should be bridged with glass fiber.)

There you go again and other mild poetry, poll-taking are largely implemented rhetorical solutions.

I’m always wrong
to prolong my appeal.

Show me a locket grant once.

Once & be done. A few more should

Fix the climate fast with aughts of glass & a shining brand

A whole new side to nuts & bolts, narrow & hollow in the center, along with holding on 100% our touch.

That’s how we fasten starry messengers to move objects that seem inflatable as you lay back in a blank whisper, quiet in the nick of it.

Inside it’s gray. Divided & confused, I signed
up. The acoustics are there,
there’s a container for every dataset on loud
so the ambient workspace will hear it,
feel it in stages taller, striking overnight.

I feel like a great building.
I can’t live without taking charge a few hours from now.

Everything belongs. The rest is stress related.

Her eyeballs are all the wet they need, not what they are. It’s a classic knife-in-sui-generis.

Parts of the world face the street to whoosh by ornamenting impurities of state.

The carport reflected in this is perched high above subatomic beings who also use photographs for subject matter, like the one of a garland arched over people who are sweating their existence.

One polishes the text and hands it in.

I had thought as well just just

to emphasize changes in time and space.

Worth repeating.

I wasn’t just orphaned, I decided to pursue other interests.

Not hate X 3

just to get re-elected to you, and we’ll proliferate to here if I try, if I have your confidence — not that blind — I’ll wiretap secrets to weigh (you get no credit for this) —

No ripped-off melancholy, no spectral, tiny swaggering to cash in, but here’s a substitution agreement containing 2 times.

It’s taken this long to read the gospel of wealth.

O to be bubble-footed in dark briefs!

I’m still describing opéra moaning about diffusion at any cost to render your mouth a mess that goes captioning, The box Austerity Due, neatly sleep-laden, eating dog food.

Our vision, tactics.

This is for you now.

A journal travels, calibrated by the ruckus-like paean spoken (rather than speaking) in a large-scale dialectic —

battery powered to sow maleness / seduction technology / outreach where all the jazz wears off.

We came with what we saw, and we sank together deliberately mismatched, yet ignited around the tips by deep compatibility. Vibrating skin written for the biggest down to the smallest, abstracted birches as a trick of light, a gift.

(They’re both good.)

Your mellowness operates a transferrable mind.

As it were. Yet it’s shameful to work for the state. How did Paulo Freire alone stand, pause and brush back his hair? others like him looking up like flight risks? To keep going we find little or no compromise.

The music seems headstrong.

Everything that is mined is structure to write or was when we were in Tacoma picking up fun Japanese. The miners described it as leaving gaps.

I hardly know you. And will never know you. We’ll give you a call.

“Great but I’ll just hold...”

Realizing my dream performance in “Fidelio”
I am touched by everyone now alive,
softest jazz, lower right, someone’s lips moving up, down,
talking design shit. Someone’s naive mirror on sale, for example.
Florestan has everything he knows. How can a bantam weight =
feigner? his son asked over the phone.

Someone’s book is staring out the window, saved-up.
So, with regard to static and its ovoid, stasis
in a compulsive battle over an ultimate smiley face,
it’s not who grinned first that counts, but also wherever
and however. That’s my middle point for the interim
realizing my dream performance in “Fidelio.”

Some had swing

The scandal passed, hardly worth the coverage,
otherwise excellent. You saw that?

We got back into the van.

Do you own your swarm’s jackets? It seems relevant
if filed haphazardly under filming about a file,

“Ambient text file,” say;
her jaw trembled

while we run the Jewels.

All experience is seriously correct..
But what is Audi A-6?

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

I’m in no hurry. A life is charged
now on the menu. My head is cleared.

(Have to go.)

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

There’re double credits working 5 fewer days than allowed. Ten hut. What service were you in?

Teaching can’t be taught. Ahem.

I remember looking up at you at Ahem feeling an urgency in ideas. Women to men:
We live in a debt growing country. Maximum restraint = get it done don’t talk to me.

Then let me pull an invisible to the eye hair off your blouse, have you over when sex and
teaching are what they should be, augmented with Pablo Tac bouquet, seeming for no end.

Seeming is a nice pace except for the plastic :
containers hanging along the bow : the cow
and top sails maximized along the side. ::

When stairwells mesh and go nowhere majorly,
between you and expulsion, the hole is closed. It’s a tic.
Turn here, there’s efficacy in speaking clearly, gesturing, knitting your own brow.

To be faked out of a board game.

After button is pushed a model young theorist says hello, how are you, then reverses course. She
heads upstairs to an installation in perfect solitude.

I’ve heard that scream didn’t help but it did.

The spell for lunch today: slender objective on a square obstacle. Then follow instructions, slippers are warmed. Work is down in the sub-chambers, aimlessly glistening, before reaching glacier-elbow high water, everything in hierarchical Finland, which always works, works
everywhere.

A kimono has been entered, explaining sex without thinking, and with.

A fragrance is found shaking our heads, wiping our brows.

The same stairs float, for good, if they could.

Like all of the above and people going in and out of buildings, climbing steps, you’re one hundred percent normal to run up debt, heartbroken, also to downplay scene after scene, only springing or twisting into new life and with..

On second thought, the herd rushed to the rescue (there’s a deadline), a tumble of inventions, an ambush, a weakening of night to day — body in the hole — one enzyme waking up isolated, seeming Stinky. I touched it and it sprayed me.

A qualified blog reader or some other guy is making the ultimate comeback.

It worked once, or twice, but now we were searching for an obstacle by the fireside pumped with mandatory inflows of feel-

oops, they’re metering to block counterfeiters

doing physics or philosophy with a hen of steam: ergo verdicts are trifles beyond Krishna’s preproduction.

                       All

personnel will have to be shifted or fired
but come to work anyway, achieving a seeming
bliss of the non-willed state, enlightened but lacking design.

During the break we reached an agreement,
so the ham’s anger has hatched.. while no choice
enables the passing tourney among tense Fu dudes
to nuance the 3-in-1 innocents to proceed.

Watch the student’s eyes and say the manager is out.


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

One’s position is to find breathing room, so much so we can 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.) Choked up by the blots running out, suspended. It’s unlikely there’s more about that future and of course less. And some things you need no repeat.

This was at the start. I know that. Taking chances put us in a lissome interpretive state (lissome like rebirth). Function varies widely. Lilac is so devoted a zest. Then it plummets into difficulty. Here we are, talking about it.

Big-eyed instincts?
                              hard
to get out of the valise. We pirated the code.

You can’t say we pushed it out willingly (nurture, nature, frantic relaxation).

The fit was good.

I noticed you work under me to make your poise smoke
w/ the problem being

Long phials
of sulfuric fern, Fougères, the Germans say on the timetable:

What’s significant, half an hour
is later, painful moments were over, we realized
by

Back I said, a piece of no-advice,

innocence concerns ethics, not intent. Spinoza acts against his own young interests.

Adoration has a poetic scent.

Reputations precede character, an act of apprehension remains
deferentially. Creature masks are conditions in reprieve;
who will advocate toward peace, the tranquil
to empower mergers & exchange?

Let’s find something we agree w/.

A brain state needs a pull-up bar and libido time, mood,
a star range w/ blank tenderness to smolder in met
colors and galvanized pastels, winning the beginning
preparing the manifold, earlier,

at The School of Nobody
rising to any occasion w/ pretty good yoga probabilities,
tho troubleshooting is more shaped by time while taking
steps w/in unruly aplomb (to parse diacritically)..

there’s a move thru a life study in brown and grey, a question of blood
flow. There are no stages.

A tree in the wind.
How is it lit?

Tall w/ liquid arms;
another is hit and run
by a grain at the riverbed..

incorrigible as voice matter is, more interesting:
4 nothing wins in a debate over no and not distinctions.

Theory-and-forth..

Thus texting is not going anywhere.

I feel it’s necessary to ache in blather, calmly, accruing intimacy. Hey I’m really as sorry
as a Kotzwinkle alloy.

Incision continues in this vein... Holism doesn’t come naturally (Nickolas Christakis).
Yet the parts know how to grow (Benjamin Aranda).

Here is the place you and I may detect the language driver, untidy and young, loath
despite the foundational rule of no rule speaking up without permission.

You get somewhere then stop.

They grow inner living language in dim light over —
misdoers with a kill-agenda are tickled into corruption

since the nervous system distorts radially. Tarantulas of steel squeeze under the door, isolated by
an obsession with coming right in. If I have to I’ll be dressing down to my Tesla character,
elbows up, free, easy. There I go, holist.

We like newness in a way when both leave things. Like

how I graduated from this shame of ours, this pride

in the battle between the sexes? The rich won.

Can you place our names? I have a full canoe of alter-ego, asides and decorative indeterminacy. With hat, I got to anticipating mind control as disingenuous.

Unlike the head in one head, third-place supreme courts are traded from the top; time to find fortune underground, in roundish coiffures from out of town. De-rattled by Vogue and noted last century, there’s the rustic perp for a painter style and muddled cool. We come from someone, slowly calmed by that fear we were of a kind he was to others, but I lack redoubled patrimony and sounding-it-out tools.

Did you check the oil?

Very good. Very goo
knocking chanters
off, throwing knives, wrecking them
from the inside, slicing up!

It gave me hiccups when senses re-cooled, the unoccupied mind long overdue. The you

I reference is in primary season.

And I’m back reading and lifting plates, you in the foreground with pleasant memories. (The conductor knows everything.)

Geben Sie ihm helfen, bitte..

We grabbed the narrator (we couldn’t rule him out), staying blithe from the twin column in potatoland dirt colors, a flurry of identity fantasy, perhaps, yet eco-conscious and nightlife to frantic calls.

The fop is a French invention, an essentialist’s incarnation. It’s now an English tramp thing, Le Smoking for surf, dressed, eft.

Beach safety — wow, everything has that just-did-it-for-creation smell. The Buddha Machine on Low, marking Tramp Lapping My Skull. Pointless stupid madness. (Yours.) The double v above his eyes means very-very. (I’m not.)

P.S.

I know this sounds lame — you and I annulled our thingness with a few hand-waves and felt rapt, the way we inspire open, emotional austerity,

Mr Pipeline

To commune sounds handsome, also calm, also bendy. In the same call he reverses prerogatives, that is, the voice does. (I’ll table the difference. Each.)

“Cloven, we are incorporate...”

His message is mixed but never better aligned. Together, and across, the call center serves as hideout, learning the ropes, perusing scraps and parts of hope.

No fins of infinity. Nope.

Pigeons pattern the exponents where detachment is trimmed.

We have no major issues.

Shady aftermath inter-scope.

And to think a way out, we can blur the ground and yield authority to a bowl that’s really a vase, sit and watch dogs turn smoky brown tracking vans in drizzle, tarnished from sight, playing against a stack of storm windows, within a composure for light a translator can’t reach.

23 hours ago the idea of writing took a while. Times. A mindset occupied, just so jokes turn into dreams. It’s dreams that forgive us for everything (or almost everything except redemption). That’s because ideas, when they’re ‘awake,’ get downgraded to icy paranoia, trapping you and me inside a force field owing to our expertise.

So there’s no dead end.

Here’s a thought. Stiles of cash stuffed inside wholes carved out of the earth, stacking up against one another with such speed they reflect the world as it is, advancing toward convenience stops and arbitrary stretches we don’t care about.

Oh my god — I just remembered I can fly.

Well, most of these “pieces” are literal, based on trying to sit down and sing [starting to sing] “Baby, you’re still wearing your headset.”

An air of inevitability around the advanced codes has been shattered. It seems inauthentic in the first mustache sense. I am more than sex. Your holding me, the middle of the throat..

I kiss the air. This.

And it’s not clear you and I will answer questions that require specific, distinctive thought like that I think of a welding head, until my spinal column heats up, thinking of you.

When I read you I thought Vegas. Sun passeth zenith. Your house is horizontal wood boards in Creeps Meadow.

The journey feels made up so we can live by ourselves without being alone.

Re-reading you I sense loose projectiles “got thrown” into doo (implicative space). And then the microwaving began, humorless and crazily unironic.

I read you and people moved away, making it vacant.

While all of us back East are dreaming variations cost a lot in Marxist base alignments and bike gear.

Variation or vacation. Tone deaf or dead.

I can’t tell anyone except you I’ve misplaced my stencil and my Prince Phillip paintbrush and palette.

The ballast is in season. My peers make films and fast food.

So there’s no poetry but in California. That’s since the love dataset appreciates and values only the blessed as the parcels it celebrates in distortions of consciousness, in every word mentioned or almost mentioned, and all syllables performing as in one spin of the ‘compass’ between you and the others trained in your language.

That reminds me this is a new piece from the workshop. It just keeps getting bigger. A simple turn of the ignition, what’s the big deal? A journey within the 5th element, a pathless scrubland back in that bend in time when you’re reading the data in an identical manner & you derive the same message (sorry, there’s another gap) as sugar consumption skyrockets, looking for something to do with a degree in hypostatization.

Nearly hurling was an adventure. That’s when Dr. Cucumber met his match in the perseverance maze. Patti was trying to spook him with big hanging wolf eyes. It’s affordable theater. Her shirt was on inside out, on the tugboat to the Keys.

Would you like to ask questions or can I diagram the problem?

I came here dying for sublime play like the first time, and it’s entirely because it's unexpected she had her languid hands up in the air, made eyeglasses with her fingers, meaning she was ready.

Free days are an ellipsis, what goes around comes gasping, the more irregular the breathing — looks like she’s breathing! A spoon worm lives inside the womb, a male redback dies inside the reproductive tract! somersaulting into his mates’ fangs just to get eaten while copulating!

Cucumber is still a little wiped. So is Cucumber-2. Cucumber-3 is frowning, ready to be seen. Cucumber-2 is blabbing now. Cucumber is a little fucked up too. “Just starting one.” “Cool.” The thing now is not to get fucked up too often.

1. Let’s call this unconnected.

It’s kind of a coincidence. I went to golf school. I’d

3. This time it’s the end of the beginning if

outside Spot reflects the city,

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

Why make so much of political origin here, or there 6. A few terrier enthusiasts
or their ambiguity?

To respond is everything I fall on, Keev,

8. don’t tread yet where Gladstone’s selectmen came for their weather futures,
the power grid

..that triangular plot of ...
10. 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 an unknown page? Which fox drug is best?
12. The front gate won’t front.

13. Spot still.. or his surrogate intruding a moment before now, his emptied refraction applied
to the taillight for syntactical beings (in a sentence blast).

Intrusions entail teamwork, coincidentally.

I had thought as well just just

Our reality to emphasize changes in time and space.

Worth repeating.

I wasn’t just orphaned, I decided to pursue other interests.

Not hate X 3

To get re-elected to you, and we’ll proliferate to here if I try, if I have the confidence we pack — not blind — (you get no credit for this) —

No ripped-off melancholy, no spectral, tiny swaggering to cash in, but there’s a substitution agreement containing 2 times.

It’s taken this long to read the gospel of wealth.

O bubble-footed in dark briefs!

I’m still describing opéra moaning about diffusion at any cost to render your mouth a mess that goes captioning,

1 box Austerity Due, neatly sleep-laden, eating dog food.

Our vision, intact.

This is for you now.

Valse report

Your first lover could not heal your mind through his skin.
Then we happened to answer you, seeing the wind is fixed on the floor
and circles midair. We see your subtle flight.

We don’t want to be a second late for all we are hellbent being.
That, and we understand we can meet you without seeing you.

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

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

that’s a gist.

Buried for dead but still in view:
If I put my hands an..
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 sleepwalk with one shoe in hand.

I will find you.

A great day centers on content while Mina on the ground keeps looking up holding data that prospect on appearances. This correspondence defines a pinch of stairs. Nice stairs. Nice worth.

Everything I note here is integrated, resonating up in a net where you can charge fees to the horizon that’s magnified or askew. If you admit rejoicing in tricky intersections you’ll be taking sides.

We’re ex-singing of course. This is how we can do it & / or don’t, giant spooned, grouchy, scaling down the polluting firms driving north.

The vapor all for it, both arms.

Bill Knott, R.I.P.

Realizing my dream performance in “Fidelio”
I am touched by everyone now alive,
softest jazz, lower right, your lips moving up, down,
talking design shit. This naive mirror on sale, for example.
Janus has everything as he knows. How can a bantam weight =
fate’s consignment? his husband asked over the phone.

His book is staring out the window, saved-up.
So, with regard to static and its ovoid, stasis
in a compulsive battle over an ultimate smiley face,
it’s not who grinned first that counts, but also wherever
and however. That’s my middle point for the interim
realizing my dream performance in “Fidelio.”

I see yours but no thanks. This is tomorrow before the cart.

We constitute the unmarried Non-Group taking a long
part in a ritual to outlast how nice that would be.

I’m out on a date, now, with Mittens, while I go thru assembly
to proposition a musician within a speech actor

giving in to take you out, shake you tamed. Dart,

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

Rethought transactionally, mewl. Parsers in their teens put on rheumier shows,

I think I said that, and made it a quote: a dream

of immense sadness peering exclusively 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 my·ster·i·um tremendum.

There may be more formlets of the newer mystery avoiding one another’s silence in the face of attainment.

It appears I’ve always been about to point. I’ve always been secular, pluralized by the converted

so everyone turned into clients. Then came the filching of imitation in the filtered water..

... brief punches of text look great on the phone! [Rewrite as a song]

Back I said, a piece of advice,

innocence concerns ethics. Spinoza acts against his own interests.

Adoration has a poetic scent.

Reputations precede character, tact of apprehension remains
deferentially. Creature masks are a condition in reprieve;

who will advocate for peace, the tranquil

to empower the mergers & exchange?

Opt is a prefix with capital. It’s a pat peeve.

Thank you for not murdering my..

It’s always funny, the wind moves to the city, scripted by
infantile alienation as well groomed as yoga for planets.

An instructor needs a vertical monkey bar, libido time,
a star range w/ blank tenderness to smolder in met
colors, galvanized pastels, winning the beginning —
preparing the manifold, earlier..

I’m thinking of a color — no name, a feel..
running everywhere that’s off the — the first the —
staging an authentic vantage within utter voice matter.

“The float is radiant, jammed with radiant things,” had

Simon Schama anticipated, not long ago, “but no, had I bee/n
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.”

I seemed to learn hybrids can become overnight.

“And here I inserted a bonus and exchange, not so bad
a personal act that can only end in a draw sustained by two
getting up, stretching for an hour.”

The virus is already inside us. “After glamor there’s power, wo-
lfed down improv crap, Marx collaborators or is there an / fee?
Hunting now is the lather of swing. Remember thoughts?

What if it doesn’t work. Then what?”
Every time and place of our choosing. Act gathered.

Bandits 1st.

You translators are a close 2nd.

We appear ordinary. This is about something else.

Then I repeated if I were you I’m all I should have —

I’ve been noticing icky when the weather cooperates.

Never weep standing up , swamps in Japan are barricades

Software permeates, philosophy.. Finally . The brick housewarming ,

(blanched)

Curtains and her 3rd slide show all our movement inside where it’s icky.

Used

When it comes to A-hour taking over, it’s never good enough, as
An aside, these issues are not a specific program.

How can one I love reunite you
(Hand-me-down color had risen to his cheeks.)

“I want us to be in charge.” I was,
Having at such big, elusive ideas calls for spectral imaging. I stared at the door.

Seconds later I was unsure where dick-brain ‘stood’ vis a vis the Rams.
It’s probably bad ball I did. It’s too obvious (as well), it tastes used.

Ok an explosion directed the shots down my throat, the light in back..

The envoy is an imitative sort, toe-tagged in the emergency room, not or
That we’re abstemious when cutthroat & ...
Got a pulse, fixed pupils, dilated. Don’t try this without the others.. who?

I shaved my envoy in a symbolic realm / an accordion fold / an étude-incarnation

The plu-crossing a great stream of sensibility.

Camera interns want to be involved, ovulating, still a little wiped.
The sine functions were highlights still rising from parterres & topiary snapped in place.

Our place.

I’m talking to you in American.

Not going to lie to you, I watched us dream of economics affecting a radius of birthday cake, like that Depuis chip, destabilizing its temperament. Looters and rhombus-gatherer, all doing well; respectively, its great work, cuts straight through its restructure creating more patterns to abandon.

The chip becomes a soundtrack. Feels like about time, epic sums new slender totems. The walkway and instrumentation

have to be done right. Let’s clink Solo cups, wondering about tidbits of hyper-literal churning depth. (Ideologues always get stuck in the wrong line.) It might be progressives were on genome probation.

This is that world’s decision theory now.

Inter-OK

First create a gap then put up a bridge to connect employees to each other,
movement they can chant — they’re doing this openly in a pillar of Nicocrettes.

Their shouts of disbelief are strung together to become more fluid. Poi along
w/ poi-dependence. Same is true when it comes to airline safety, there is no plan.

Our guardians are tired of interruptions and self-reflective outreach,
since the corporation is lonely as any inter-discipline that threatens.

Solitude, confidences, you’ll learn times in the day,
such that it’s useful to be in radiant short sleeves and thong.

: this is a tenet of Hindu verse.

It’s with another tenet I hold you, Caesar, for conniving to carpet silence.

In media res there’s good news at the pump.

So that’s craftmatic. Especially if snow sees itself a Marat procedural that does it and is done in by it.

Substitute snow falls like sea foam over snow.

Other snows include someone on parole and a park employee draped over a bowl of smashed reds and hooks.

They were a boring couple. Is one related? The too-serious topical regard for perfect categories works backward from walking out to compete with oneself

but there was a separation had that been allowed at age six.

Read the inspection label. To continue, asymmetry solves perfection.

Snow lists a mood replaced as the driveway met you. You’ll always be dad’s inside, animals looking at you.

You don’t get to snooze.

Snow is a collective that takes its singular form learning to drive.

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.