Our national leaders and their propagandists know very well liberal capitalism is an inegalitarian regime, unjust, and unsuitable for the vast majority of humanity.
Grandeur is a deluxe quest and metaphysical evil.
I’m not a model, I just look like one. (Helen of Troy)
We’re the only nation that flies into hurricanes. (D.A. Levy)
2/6/25
Note: It’s impossible to separate understatement from early programmed utterance; both are newborn in an admissible pitch. So that’s how pretending v coming close can be felt, my sovereign.
Warning: The underground minimizes special-purpose thinking within a dominant tribal i.d. or trance. The opium is waiting, for a bender. What comes next is calm to recover and / or replace each close-to-noble escape route on ahead.
Warning: The underground minimizes special-purpose thinking within a dominant tribal i.d. or trance. The opium is waiting, for a bender. What comes next is calm to recover and / or replace each close-to-noble escape route on ahead.
85: It takes substance and breadth; the going price of unlettered, brusque desire
(a rare cigarette case, may I?) looked after in coded forms and knots...
No thanks. Just piano and voice. Piano and your voice... Or let’s
Practice being still. (The high meal.) Inductions to other habits — hearing your breath,
I think speaking, in effect, projecting dumb ideas.
The woven haze drags down sculptures of floppy appeal
Like light praise warmed over by spinning in “Amen”
— I cannot phrase scents of snow, sunlight and your utter loss
— my tongue tied crying, folding you into thoughts.
(a rare cigarette case, may I?) looked after in coded forms and knots...
No thanks. Just piano and voice. Piano and your voice... Or let’s
Practice being still. (The high meal.) Inductions to other habits — hearing your breath,
I think speaking, in effect, projecting dumb ideas.
The woven haze drags down sculptures of floppy appeal
Like light praise warmed over by spinning in “Amen”
— I cannot phrase scents of snow, sunlight and your utter loss
— my tongue tied crying, folding you into thoughts.
2/5/25
Since we gave up on poetry, singalong vaulted to the top of the agenda. Leaving office had a double meaning to off-center the filing (filtering) system and other singularities I’ve kept versed in for years. We have no limits to affirm any retractions, feeding our reliance on illumined work, dire pleasures, majestic plans and, this most generalized I guess, burningly turning back, looking on while the wax dims.
Mercury is wow pensive, coming back! back... no..
You’re saying no to more billing days first, no to virulent, callow graphemes, stance covers for a copyist. Cut the trad crocus, low opinions and bloodied mesh. No aplomb in nature, please. No chiastic haunts. And no golf property.
There is no personality, so why beat anyone up? We can read back over found work but never go back to walk the innocent-seeming turret and loggia built by another’s labor, overlooking our exciting first bakeoff, together...
Funny place
for a dance, Mr Baker.
You’re saying no to more billing days first, no to virulent, callow graphemes, stance covers for a copyist. Cut the trad crocus, low opinions and bloodied mesh. No aplomb in nature, please. No chiastic haunts. And no golf property.
There is no personality, so why beat anyone up? We can read back over found work but never go back to walk the innocent-seeming turret and loggia built by another’s labor, overlooking our exciting first bakeoff, together...
Funny place
for a dance, Mr Baker.
2/4/25
Reprobates — with a kill-agenda — are tickled into corruption.
Here is the place you and I may detect the language driver, untidy and young, deliberate despite the foundational rule of no rule
And speaking up without permission. In other words,
Sin gets somewhere and stops. The wind in time withers our good looks.
In the mentalist version we again grow inner living language over — to pillory hindsight.
Here is the place you and I may detect the language driver, untidy and young, deliberate despite the foundational rule of no rule
And speaking up without permission. In other words,
Sin gets somewhere and stops. The wind in time withers our good looks.
In the mentalist version we again grow inner living language over — to pillory hindsight.
85: It takes substance and breadth; the going price of unlettered, brusque desire
(a rare cigarette case, may I?) looked after in coded forms and knots...
No thanks. Just piano and voice. Piano and your voice... Or let’s
Practice being still. (The high meal.) Inductions to other habits — hearing your breath,
I think speaking, in effect, projecting dumb ideas.
The woven haze drags down sculptures of floppy appeal
Like light praise warmed over by spinning in “Amen”
— I cannot phrase scents of snow, sunlight and your utter loss
— my tongue tied crying, folding you into thoughts.
(a rare cigarette case, may I?) looked after in coded forms and knots...
No thanks. Just piano and voice. Piano and your voice... Or let’s
Practice being still. (The high meal.) Inductions to other habits — hearing your breath,
I think speaking, in effect, projecting dumb ideas.
The woven haze drags down sculptures of floppy appeal
Like light praise warmed over by spinning in “Amen”
— I cannot phrase scents of snow, sunlight and your utter loss
— my tongue tied crying, folding you into thoughts.
2/3/25
112: Do you like spiral staircases, scandals that strive to branch out to the un-alive, an abysm?
Facts there are a marketplace whose figures look young and green when least derivative. Volatile objective content triumphs. Right or wrong it’s kind of a snob racket (Charles B).
Our nervous system can distort music in an adder’s sense, Charles might say, to emphasize changes in people who are snakes, radial evil neglected by the super ego. B is for Bukowski.
Facts there are a marketplace whose figures look young and green when least derivative. Volatile objective content triumphs. Right or wrong it’s kind of a snob racket (Charles B).
Our nervous system can distort music in an adder’s sense, Charles might say, to emphasize changes in people who are snakes, radial evil neglected by the super ego. B is for Bukowski.
2/2/25
Feeling comfort in disruption is one point. Together, we define entire affability arcs in ironic laughter, a series of slippery zoning disputes. Two points or more (identical in all respects).
Any abstract attitudes are buried below our gestalt-like, collective strip-down (the whole of reality, now) to the ashen stem cells of relatively unspeaking, as tho history was a set of onlt visual realities.
Body-snatching, the third point is you and I have a multi-reality to join the others, since our lives are directionless thru Rose County. Good night, ensign.
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.
Any abstract attitudes are buried below our gestalt-like, collective strip-down (the whole of reality, now) to the ashen stem cells of relatively unspeaking, as tho history was a set of onlt visual realities.
Body-snatching, the third point is you and I have a multi-reality to join the others, since our lives are directionless thru Rose County. Good night, ensign.
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.
32: You’re reserved outdoors, for your love adds layers
And exempts us from showing up to enchain, knife, subdue..
That’s once I reach heights of happier men but none like you —
As Satie plays, giving away what we’re better at
— gosh! I read an earlier generation in tears warms up today’s loving style.
Poor from love, a class struggles thinking it’s for real.
The struggle, not the tears.
And exempts us from showing up to enchain, knife, subdue..
That’s once I reach heights of happier men but none like you —
As Satie plays, giving away what we’re better at
— gosh! I read an earlier generation in tears warms up today’s loving style.
Poor from love, a class struggles thinking it’s for real.
The struggle, not the tears.
2/1/25
59: Sonnets are ok, nothing new — going backwards here —
Let’s vote Labour —
an ostentatious luncheon in ‘old world’ pensiveness,
beguiling etiquitte, self-admiring praise.
I might say more, fool my brain, the one mended by you and your composed image but
I stay in character.
More sure — we’re easily freaked by what antique words
dig up and how re-inventions get composed, still we have to keep our wits about us
— looking back under whose
thumb? And am I yours?
Let’s vote Labour —
an ostentatious luncheon in ‘old world’ pensiveness,
beguiling etiquitte, self-admiring praise.
I might say more, fool my brain, the one mended by you and your composed image but
I stay in character.
More sure — we’re easily freaked by what antique words
dig up and how re-inventions get composed, still we have to keep our wits about us
— looking back under whose
thumb? And am I yours?
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