Song: Blushing is breaking news.
One time I was inconsonant. Or..

I was found holding a grand lodge of doing-splits glossary.
— why

Does a face arrest?
You had on your fabulous eyeliner from a while ago. Cunning
Thing is everybody had it goes without saying a probability before
The news

And all of us now are blown up by
Getting wind of the Red Wings.
I’m lost? I’m not familiar
with the neighborhood?

You’ve got a nice view of it
from up here.

Here we go. I got you.

Here we are.

I got you, I got you.

Got my back?
I got you. It’s okay.

You sure that’s why you’re here?
Oh My God, I so adore you. I thought I was alone in my hatred.
Task me, praise me about something else that’s forced..
Stop hurling new foodstuffs, sour leisure.


There is no name then it’s absence and torment. His life is built around sane choices w/ a sense of a person, even though in a few seconds, I’m in memory * of that person to come. Haw. 
That a fact?  
Some don’t hear clearly when one’s “voice” joins others’ to deepen ultimately anonymous expressions of desire. * The memory part is mostly vice versa.
Been holding our tongues. That’s how it works. 

Non-interference in charge, under which an authentic kindergarten, bourgeois language, genetic dance and charades get raised and quest is forcibly asserted. Working against deadline shaped the last phase of withdrawal from our deadlock with future attributes. Oedipus meantime, our founder, targeted a fan like me because of ageless obligations to familial platitude, his camouflage in plain view, the better part of stiff winds over centuries-old middle ground.
A mind is a beautiful tool of late capitalism (the unwitting effect and cause).

Capitalism stands erect, at the American curbside, a whiff of more aroma
waiting, eyes unblinking.
( Or one could seek documentation, semblance, something Swiss..

 From now on the mind is Switzerland, ok? Two eyes
belong everywhere, you’re breathing into everywhere. )

Capitalism thus gets to open up its dude ranch, akin to rustic factories, the gig economy spreads further west to prey on the drunk and disorderly. This is the highway the slug runs out on, leaving us a little dizzy. You’re the 10th dude / muse..

I was wondering wha ...

The mind sits there. It wants to be best
friends. It’s saved us burgers.
While in the garden, the door banged shut.
Execution never gets cold.
The sky is in the air, a hue of golf balls. 
That color was discontinued, for historical justice.  
Days are broken into seasons separated by regions. 
Our supply chain deals fatalism as an element of allegory  
shaping and twisting regions of all desire, except a ready  
-made means to change the supplier that feeds us these days. 
Too excellent but passing concern:
IF we have an idea to process a text or artifact, subject to analysis, THEN how does the text or artifact change ways of analyzing the process? Does the result generate inquiry into both (a) who, how, when, why subjects of analysis came about and (b) any utility of further application or adaptation?


Massachusetts, one of the 13! Now tv.
I love needing what television does, colonizing until the wheels fall off. 
Nearly sunset in coconut milk. Skinny ‘eventude’ brings on video waves of fluttering, populist rage, dishonest dogs. (Tv dogs trained to come, fetch, force it down.) All in favor held under pressure.  
Channel surfing here in the cranberry state I see immigrants mix well w/ bohos, capitalist people, people people, subjectivity with certain rights for a life entrenched w/ exigency — it feels very large here. We’re all over tv. Just noticed.
Craning one’s mien goes on outside e.r.’s, the event passes — comments from nondoctors, random tvs, lies — freedoms in this vein takes off at many a critical point. It’s personal, e.r. managers point out. It’s conditions like these making it almost impossible to write enflamed birdsong and comb back your hair at the same time.. Can you do that? 

Light with a spooky edge 

To sound off like your own critic.
76: In flight, the framework is told on telling. 
How can varsity spend their tribute, spent? Why? 
This café, I think, is going to answer that & help the weather from getting lost.  
I know the frame craves attention, that’s why I write of you.  
Why I finish a stretch and lines get confused, showing their birth. Fuse the way  
Continue. My argument.
87: Sodajerks. Their stock was luminous. Possessing

That noun phrase furthered ambition (we’re sure it was theirs), amusing
vim shaken from the inside. Each had a skeleton curse; growing
versed. (Youth, after all, is the determined object of love.) An emotional matter
language models for 3 dimensional farewells in waking
then not knowing.
Nothing is such in all cases. This brings on what works mostly. Life is short and good grooming drives you all over. Recent example, no longer victims,
you and I grabbed the moment as a ladder we shouldn’t overuse —
A moment to stare out the window, a lamp over our shoulders to herald the swindle in wind farming.
Denis the Menace grew a pair this summer. I now have a boyfriend. We’re in love, we’re out of it, we’re trying to run each other over, and it continues, since I’m first and last bored with superordination and thought about having no chapter delineations, just paragraph breaks.


O Jesus 
A severe honey glow  
crowning his shoulders — groomed  
disgust in his walk, his mystic theater practice 
already addressing us, the radiant  
pull at his mom’s sleeve  
emptied of the given moment. Puissance of a misprision sort, holy body of Christ. Already what Esau called discourse in action.
but I have to smile
                                The emptiness that was
one fine day...
                                A uranium-brimmed scree
insubstantial, to dawn ‘disappeared’
into a leg o’mutton of oblivion :
The reunion is off.
A spotlight called.
Lots of us are gifts 
and land across our example  
while we watch the wind taken  
that the waves under you lift  
Tho see-thru as doves  
which today are nothing more,  
swept with a visual certainty  
no matter how we change in love.
Voices in funnels, a trickle down of their futurity,
Dropping your sights — now rising
— the fastest way to earn points. And yet
We’re surrounded, opening
I write poems for children, progeny
Forward, a debit resonance disproving their successors —

We’re nothing their voices bell without words.

Make a difference, make an offer.
Stealing away the steepy treasure,
Baby Wateau vanishes
& the cake sale fails — vanished out of memory & sight as I am now.


62: It’s up to future officials to unpack failures’ base ironies. The speaker looking into a mirror. Failures of autumn. Where are they, let’s see... I’m not picking up any .. acoustics. Where I am, they don’t hook up to
let supplies flow out since they
make love too much — painting my age w/ no explanation, only disgust because every irony wants to stay on a comfort-slope, to live well too, staying relaxed. No shape, no truth can lull you into an ex-jazz tranquility. There is no remedy for the language instinct’s sentimental counterreactions

Grounded inward in my heart, inequity’s failure up to now.
BF Skinner watches a boy develop — to spy on sleep when you can’t dream... parking spaces have a word with him. Children are the future —
keep them distracted.
And back to you. If you lock your room you can transport anywhere. Ask Caligari. Bright blues in white, a looming sluice through the discomfort zone. Here we go...

I don’t deserve friends like him or you.
Staring you in the eyes
In my illusion of minimalism
I scored my first wormhole on schedule. The entity, no,
I should say the accretion settled down
Inside us, lost and scattered trying to remember.
Sonnet 28: I lost track of our last banter. 
How can I return then? debarred, oppressed.. not eased by night. 
Enemies shake hands to torture — stronger grief. No rest. 
The community’s been repurposed by consent. I can tell a long river
dries because of science. The rich (not advancement) won.
Here’s how I hitchhike. I come across an organizing principle and pull a trigger or 2, replacing subject matter with source text, exploring only some musts: structure, acquisition, re-use, mixed media — no Eros in ideas, room for the best except the pure.

One who hitches has no right to speak other than excellently. Self-conflict and compromise keep coming up as rich bases for ironic pleasure and symphonic failure. If that’s allowed.

Primitive patterns and blue throats, crowbars taped to a tree, in the distance, Eroica...

We haven’t been far away — the fields are twenty, chips are foam, our clothes thrown,
The great We of fish, that’s what I say on a sea plane worked into the sky.


I have decent rooms and vegetarian board. Living large is an art prepared without couth. I hope you’re opening up to a former way of life stocked with mint colorations of air as in a plush, intimate drawing room augmented with coarse bouquet. Like Elizabethans, say, we would see there were lots of tulle and offline making of amends. Music sounds on alert changing uniforms for the weekend with some breathy, lithe, spooky edge.
Tv interview:
The enigmatic eaten alive by song layouts.
The strategy goes on because it’s clear.

Burying the syllogism for life.
I’m leafing through your agility in pouring out seeds, turning over new seedlings —

I should add I don’t know anything about microspores, also
Heavy pollen, nothing! I should add I’m living on borrowed-spores.
I haven’t done tranquility either! — not even a truce..

Making up a to do list! blinded by periodic breakthroughs
Tho a pragmatics circumvents the will to mend things —
The focus is on nothing we won’t do..
24: This is color: Q-tips & smoke. Good turns. Painter can pick you up, take a day off
                    from where everyone who’s still standing is drawn to your shape,
eyes for eyes, physical & prime for the stress of form relays between a rat race
                    & cunning security IF
Painter’s 3-D models have your body frame & everyone else’s Painter can gaze on w/, w/out you.
The tallest paintings remeasure your height.

 Painting ideas.

You had heard maggots eat accelerated paintings stretched onto canvases of different sizes, gloomy jigsaws, severed threads, sticky placards in paint that’s waste emaciated into planes of junk and emptiness.
Painting double quotes.
One assumption is tomorrow’s flight will be an extension of how it’s going now.
A disclaimer in Chinese contains characters that aren’t pronounced
Or displayed. It says you have an upgrade but there aren’t any.


No interviews today. Triumph* is creepy**.

*Creepiness, unlike triumph, widely construed as inaudible tendencies toward plundering contexts to alter the body’s asymmetrical neuropsychology. 

**Authentic triumph, group or personal, cannot be construed.
Writing in a voice for a glass room that rings of convoluted propaganda, in finger paint.

With brush and paint we take dirt off a crescent metal, easy to pick up, feed and embrace after the climate changes. So writ.

Go on, tell us about your background in propositional aesthetics (affiliates who you think are like you but aren’t).
Thudding airlines: The prosecution collapsed 
But you hand over your sack of warrants.  
In the end the evaluations are in. Jumbo on  

Justice, liberty, rule of law...  
Time to concentrate on that killer c.v.  
It’s about warrants for words, Might (Mate). Future thickets.  
It’s so much satori — Enablers will cooperate fully.  
For you, a love interest can get calculated —   
Back to work, first it’s  

Urgent we go out and get wasted.  
The mood then passes from desolating satire to  
Constant put-downs you parrot like executive control  
— Holding firm in the wilds where fireworks will be slowly ignited  
“In the slumbering gaze” parallel kill and be killed, united obliteration. 
39: Sing how absence, our thought, only hints at torment. Separation seemed brilliant manners far back, unremembered before now. Its worth oblique, divided but pointedly, singly alive.

One difference, the better part changes — I praise you at the gate praising him.
Soon after, more praise due you while we lose names over another difference, mine to mine. We went into this.

Even divided we live to entertain. And even for this it’s still a question. I dream w/ you.. as you prove.
Writing in a voice for a glass room that rings of convoluted propaganda, in finger paint. 

With brush and paint I take dirt off a crescent metal, easy to pick up, feed and embrace after the climate changes.  

Go on, tell us about your background in propositional aesthetics (affiliates who you think are like you but aren’t). 
Sitting down delivers the good news, stateliness while steering already had its faint say. Now we can text and ‘drive’ over time and zeta functions mowing down hedgerows like highway dividers along an infinite axis.


We already have what we ask for.
Vainly but not fast in never induce italics:
We gave it up at the Office.

This is hardly ever for the 1st time
disappearing in molecules like other words, just molecules ago.
Showing results for innuendo: You’re good. Doing this, I offered. Just
Report to duration centers for the rich for best pricing, unless
Theft looks better. Go. Fees balanced. Eject.
Then you told me repetitive motion went further —
Making money w/out reason is mass

-ive. After.. surely if that’s the mood, there are vector
Utilities for expressing wealth after dark..

Sleep has no idea of here and now  when everything is the right answer.. all on your check.
After the decline of the XIX century,
The state held sway on the 2nd floor near the cloakroom.
Eminent domain: Paranoia was passed out. Young & ugly you & you were next. Nothing dumped into drinks
Not to arouse the unknown or undue, your well-being was my concern.
Few invitations I won’t forget.
And that does it sometimes for this hour. New world circumstances have postponed further equity together w/out & because of you = No end to observers laughing thru-out.
Damn, dancing, can’t complain, when your children
left we had chipmunk..

Next to nothing, and a white winged crossbill
went berserk, wet bubbles.

The chandeliers giggle a little.
Stacked tonal asperations.
The luminous patina of an excommunicant / He thought about SciFi from the Sixties / Of a bright, lit, obvious labyrinth / All of his life as if he were a mercurial creature / As if meeting death half-way by making connections / The kind of greenish pallor you’d desired —

He thought about SciFi from the Sixties / As the furry chestnut shadow turns from the window / Fighting the relative fight to endure / His coat with his assassin’s bullet, effluvia and life / All of his life as if he were a mercurial creature / Etc.
Modulating the self comprises an apotheosis 
according to types of daring.  
Don’t smolder, show us.


A {most-
Ly random swagger for the catch)
(Trained} staff encourage sampling
Coerced by the life of the owner’s party speaking.
26: In our heart of hearts, lord, we’re wading out to meta-trigonometries ..
I’m wanting respect, witness to a natural moon shining
its belle-lettrist metamorphoses, moving sweet points
over the slip, damning loose ends even with fairer aspects, so great a duty
but giving wind sheer every opportunity
.. to let us go. On.
Up. Now.
Prove me yours.
Your bromide is familiar. Let me grab a pen. You’re gaining attention for the wrong reasons, dummkopf. Stay where you are. Exploit the familiar, even an inkling. Glow fast.

The cosmos is unwilling to go far, now or later, this way or that — what we inhabit is neither a stoner planet nor merely a plywood-and-particulates object flown in time (w/ fewer and fewer afterparties). Earth turns out an enormous intimation as sexual icon, promoting death, laughter.

Those not laughing are listening, assuming we’re incandescent.

I’m pegging Seth MacFarlane Aegean-ward. There’s so much history,

Shadow sensory awareness, his chosen medium,

Flowers are em-poisoned by design, grateful waiters oozin’ adrenaline

to an audience of Schuberts, lecturers, saboteurs of the heart,

sons, daughters in search and rescue to catch every misconception lean ’n low.
Yet our bipolar mess words are set on war cry, plain
holy shit!

w/ a headless figure hammering out Bo Diddley. Panning back to lend bulk.
One thinks one loves you all-purpose, all calm, never resolved,
Because you’re only one resource, one swab

In a climate of drumming opinions and best practices —
Then driving rain and surging seas,

Overdue, you said, any day. A refreshing reminder.
My sympathies.
don’t pick on anyone else...


We have empty form in perpetuity and a hip cast of super
Angels strumming harps for a full encore of Zeus Arrhenothelus
Bringing up larger drama for the stretch and preen in vigilance —

Fall back, breathe while new cast members get authenticated —
Casually removed or

Restored at a slight remove since we retweet a manifold wave
From darkness as most scientists will tell you, like most vacuum ..
They want to call it heaven.
You have reached HR. Unemployment ‘better’ than 50 .. Which you are you?

After the fall you ran a plutonium on consignment thinktank. You thought that would be one formal outcome. Or would if you used to.

Darn if you weren’t a sophomore at it when you did
And naturally you know you’re a misfit for an assignment like ours.

New Hebrides calls for a quirk of sculpture in a spatial recession. The joy of employment

Is light. Hai, the tank answered to its dark alter ego; oh, the specificity is lost. [Get this, a thinktank that speaks among its selves, as a supposition. .]

Take info about and in precise form to bullet the ideas, grading your results.
As he got closer he realized he was his age
or maybe a couple of years younger, not edged.
Esthete’s fingers wrapping Lalique.

Both minds let drift as if
dragging one underwater, & the other grasps why..