62: No remedy surmounts heaven where detachment is trimmed. Swimming there uproots the whole series, bright, tanned & then accounted in sympathetic parody & indeed praise, contrary to less gracious remedies.

We have functional emotions, I think, grounded by self-love & this choppy vocab of defined affects. There’s a hint of falsetto. Shields up. I’m painting the last place you are true, here in my heart, shifting iniquity to self-inquiry, I read you. Stay with me, never stop. Sin here.
There are a few tongue twisters. Episode interiors silhouetted in un-analytical projection, views that screen an official episode [how to leave you] : However I believe we’re past the middle, nearing the accordion fold of 1 — love time; far from accident the outlines say there’s a double interior where scribbling adjusts to long division, complex facticity that scribbling-2 — hate time — tears open and picks at — to pay 1 off in near disappointment — both scribbling and scribbling-2 climb uphill, still texting odd incidents, and slide back down just before turning 17, fortune’s bastards biting down, gritting their teeth, a lot older now. 
Capitalist tactics are sustained innovation in nowhere equivalent to —

all right, let’s choreograph the open air in touch w/ no-thing. From the outside
the sky is in a square shape, bolted
w/ blips on a simplex-repetitive top layer, tethered for interpretation.
We’ll ingest all at once. Absolutely
blind tessellation, exhaling while we data dive

inflating the thing / no-thing problem activating our recent trials over the last half century w/ glass-and-steel additions for

investors, scientists working together.
There’ll be one execution just in case.


I’d like to thank the Academy.

IT warned me of overrefined emblems and their sweeping reproach. I’m not religious. You are. I took note of what you like from the beginning. I had a few ideas in mind to divorce you.

Oh, tech services, tell us a little more about your miserable ontology affecting checks, balances and mantra logjams — How did worldviews crumble into poli-environmentality to pantomime no common denominator undercutting American literacy?
Anything Apollonian looks flab prone.
Capacious anxiety, yup.
You can break the law to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
Either way will be a fractional infinite in the context / e.r.

In the larger apothecary we call all infinite sets
Something is definitely going on.

Some lefties feel cornered (also conned) but
It’s still breathtaking to administer the right thing to do to you.
41: An abstract, pretty temptation below gentle laughter: Ay,
Beauty for your years .. Ah me.

Ah blizzard.

Together, you and I follow a twofold point of wooing / forced absence, but I’m not that far from following your lead and therefore assailed. Youth is tantamount to body snatching, another point. Tempting but false equivalence even there: we chide the other’s choice — where it follows I cannot lead, leaving me in a riot of liberty where you are.
The book covers a lot. Preordination, say.
An interesting interview on soundless phonemes done in depth; 
‘staff may be prosecuted,’ toughing this one out. 
The sun maybe

Burning you, other brilliant dislocations TBA, expected. It goes
Beyond predicates fixated on louder procedures

But in their giddy case procedures they look into a surfeit of space..
A sumptuous, soilless bond,
Angels — a happy title..

Maybe it’s only words, assembly, to quote you.
They are real actors, culminators, not our people.
Celebrity stalkers are in the grips of mistaken identity, immune to sudden desire with intimacy. What have they got to lose?


Something came up.
Little, no, nothing. There’s so small

an exchange to transact, no tangibles, only

exhibitionist’s subtopics, within the power den,

proving repeated effort is self plagiarism.
New in town? There’s a script or several apps to let them know.

I’ve always been mad about something else.

Everyone’s trauma. (“Ego exists.”) One takes away from the center

O caught up in rule-governed mechanics!

You’re a mess, honey.
                      — Touch of Evil
126: Don’t talk with your mouth full. A sense of purpose self-disrupts into phrases and boy substitutes, fickle onwards and the stiff, gnomic atmospheres to bring accoutrement to terms, waning to grow! Hold on still, hold your lovers there minutes in pleasure. And go on, keep to your natural purpose, even in power, lovelier.
Poetry can’t be blamed even tho its part of public speech run by politics. Politics & the dignity of appearances don’t mix. (The financial & party pacs industry was just kidding.) Nothing personal, here’s your speeding ticket, Mr Trump. Trump is the sustained concussion version of civic charity... I also give a lily for what’s not available, a cabin in the launch, etc.

Government is the economy, the engine without a message.
A blank referral.  
A burst of daft tone substitutes for info of a lifetime. 
Wait. There’s nothing.  
No tone, no daftness.   
And rightly ok o I know 
I lower the volume to closest approximate parity  
and we have the yard puffing, bearing sounds..  
a shout away to body paint sweet totems that “look pretty close”  
with your eyes closed.
— I see your potential; don’t wait to be huge. Time is temporary; eternity
Later… it’s not much.
Get your share,
knocking the love-moment down with small talk, unscripted, unpredictable.
Some standards.
Shined asides.

We pick the bests of show to set the timeframe for a prize bowl,
Really a vase,

Set it, let sunlight pitch in its foam, infer
Poetry goes thru many drafts.
Our atmosphere squeaks common sense. We can’t feel it though its pace spurs dreams.
What hinges out?

Hop in, I’m a musician.


The service vice president in me wrote you a note:
An idea dawns as you and I back ‘into’ the salon.
It’s a salon poem, exquisite, uninviting, keeps its distance, so what?

You contain only so much of me.
I live where you belong.
P.S. They are holding your brain illegally.
Cry of a coach potato!

In the case of this potato, to find slices of your friends over your opus,
(a) bittersweet, n’est-ce pas on a blather scale for
(b) I’m hardly embarrassed, hardly concerned how the poet gets framed a tool of parataxis..
juxtaposition.. tinnitus ..
(z) still.. let’s skip a few layers, ready?

à mer...
Cri d’une patate de sofa!
Dans le cas de cette pomme de terre, même si on trouve des tranches de vos amis au cours de vos opus,
tout sans blague, je pense, c’est

(a) impressionnant! Le patineur est soi-disant sur une échelle pour « blather » ou des étoiles, peu importe ..
(b) mais lâchement moi-même, je ne suis presque gêné, je ne me soucie guère la façon dont le poète est formulée, est parlé de comme un outil pour juxtaposition, parataxe, tintement ..
(z) .. encore pourrions-nous sauter quelques couches, ainsi en quelques secondes ou pas, prêt ou pas, allons-nous patiner?
42: What do you need now and for what?
You may ask if I loved you.
Is that my bravo question?
Do you test, tease, defame to get the best?
I ducked his punch, closed the distance.
My loss is my love’s gain for my sake.
I told him, no don’t, I have to bolt.
Loving offense I excuse you both.
Tough being away but you’re crafty and atheist long enough, you know how we leverage missing you —

So a redraft: Transactional friendship is haphazard, and it’s a job (like sloganeering) and, more elevated, a craft (making a sign for consciousness to observe). You see, my job is to your craft as sport is to kicking down signs (ref. above).
There’s a wasteful component to our absorption of the earl of modernism as a colorist.

Nothing concentrates like rulings about Nordic weekends and a more palatable wardrobe. That’s if hit by what you feel in the a.m.

I believe in you. Evening you’re different.
You give me a musical temperature, a fine spray of marvels.
What are we fixing up? I’ve discovered squeezing brings up more meta-activity as superstitions based on fact —

Blasts of selecting fast, out of nowhere.. nowhere near here. Not even now.
A religion of dance sharpening endurance, risking focus..
Hermes masks, a precondition as two satyrid mayflies pop up, ones who advocate for peace. Their reputations recede but the fact of early apprehension holds sway before guns were worn.


Do I have a taste for disharmony and disproportionality? No, I elect to be ignorant.
I believe in undertones and the mimicking hidden force of gravity. You guys go ahead.

I’m going to walk away w/ Gil, that’s the best stunt.

You see, Gilbert Ryle asked (and in this version still asks), “might not every action or reaction be a piece of shamming?”
Yes or no, certainly. & all right
All attempts to throw your voice were patently dumb & of a special force,
Interventions & addictions too disproportionate
To the unknown risks. As one infringer you fail to mushroom,
Ignored. But our positions are hellbent when three or more
Discover wisdom on unaligned terms. So we need oversight.
15: It’s your last day of youth throwing trust out, sight and now telepathy — I’ll never feel his perfect arms around me again. Never feel the wet air on my skin, or wake up in his sap, his secret warm bed, I’m done, I don’t get a chance to influence, to comment, to try again for anything, not even for something I’m not. I can’t do any better than what I’ve changed for love of you.
What’s semiology? unless we’re in life to gnarl sparkle to figure it out? laboring for invention?
No futures present new phenomena — what older worlds once could say —
I have a tiny soft view of holding to their path, a core harmony of former days, purring yet put aside. (One chord after another.)
Poetry, jettisoned and as you wish, let there / not-there go, sky, river
will go, let people behave all the sharp, sudden ways Ute
speak, looking around, starting to rethink we’re
using our 1st language! Short iterations carry
such signs. Dreaming in bed deploys influences for output...
You can exit this field or not, burning at a muted
end then add features to nodules like in finer arts of epistemology.
Meanwhile, your eyes fill with unmeasured disassociation.
Your hair’s on the brink.


Song: In ‘open’ debate and without most staged lingo you learn to think for yourself fast, when you’re young, willful, if it’s in your nature to have people behaving as you ought; you start learning along these lines thinking in bed as BF Skinner must have

once a night. Doctor...
Well, our early faith promised us immortal lives, backup roles that made us teen idols, 
central characters in an improvisation we lost track of. 
I gradually began to buy things in no order, branched out a little finding a passion for saluting a nation that apprehends my experience as no one else.
83: Life with Mr Juice came up short — charm
-ing & familiar — unfair tenderness in a paper sack.
Hostess Wheel Clacker, bike spinner & fake license & plate.
A poet’s debt. I was mute then.
I found (or again I was speaking in silence)
your eyes are nagging me for more .. admit you miss modern poetry.
You miss the excess & first drag.

Have you read, praise & worth get their daily

Calories drinking coffee & smoking — sleeping to excess

They become bilingual.

Surplanted, Juice never saw it coming & I never wept again.
Therefore I’m barren, mute now, painting dumb.
Paul Ryan labels Conor Lamb pro life.

I’m captioning the fixed width to Now Pro “Token Austerity,
Sleep-laden, Eating Unnutritious Food.” Massive overuse,

you wore counterfeits and felt fake. I bet.
A few words on process: Counterfeiting
is luckier than needing everything before it’s rooted in or out.

No sweat. In this new version of Recently Used
English we delete any plagiarism still missing.
The Lord wait lists the design system.

Can’t be sure there’s larger yield.

Notebook open, wallet shut,

Occam never multiplied.

When irony-sincerity voted
Thomas Eliot, a flashy

Society writer, a modernist — that chintz got lost ...
Can you take a seriously argued philosophical position and call it poetry decor? Yes.
Like our sworn oath in a rustic wedding symphony:

Just before going thru with it, tho, we started looking at the shower gifts ..
The focal point is the entity with many focuses getting to foci.
Isn’t that a calling?


I’m refilming ways that seem hard to manage.

Let me hold us in the dark... It’s a future perfect thought

as your body keeps moving, clouds part. The lonely aerodrome rushes to litmus introspection, snug, sotted with the urge to fit nothing in.

That’s how being with you works asleep.
Your immaculate body becomes numbers and detached frequencies.
“Pronounce” it —

That’s good.
Now draw the strings. OK.
— what do you know!
goes off softly
So hard to shovel, soft to fall
White, rose, pale red —

A roving shadow feeling like
A thermometer — legends says,

Crossing fingers blood standing’s a fossil orange.
More feeler than hand,

It shakes the nombril ray,

A maneuver on high just dimming the drowned thumb,
A sculpture with a cup.
23: My agent is a penis. Imperfect
actor, shortcomings balloon in ‘harmony’ & w/ use.

— where my epistemology scampers in transparent secrecy
in such abundance I weaken w/ fiercer ideas to leverage your heart. Listen to my eyes.

My mien adheres to an expressive rule staying purposely
dull, entered into by going your way first, always. It’s always

clear refinement where character offers libation,
supports your tantrums from underneath. I can step right in.
Experiment 13: Touch television —

the mercury-brimmed scree

not substantial in its unexpectedness,

               a dangerous, frisky slither

across clear high terrain in a continuum —
tv retaliates against falling / falling out
in daytime, programming on a sheer precipice.
Experiment 12: Declutter, depersonalize,
let’s snorkel down. Terrific view.
I saw you on ghost tv from across a dance flotilla

moving your future hands

like tracks on time, no touching...

you be a woman I'll be a man.

The simple complex of entire atonement —

touch television — now proceeding normal ly —
Self-barter, a potential volt in a then-this-is-now domain...
Just praying.


Piano strings! precise and going no-


 floating up nervous laughter

.. an octopus taken no more than once a day.
Minutes after your work can be filed ..
‘work’ to ‘file.’
Or will we be going anywhere?

It seems like anywhere unless you knew where you were ..
Her midtown red hair, his gainsaying oomph, we’re cruising at altitudes of theorem. Quack probabilities dim until we restructure our credit history, nail it in clear plastic. Where does the political economy have us put it? His and her terrain — also yours and mine, since we’re all for one as subscribers to the regulatory plutocracy..
Let her go, let him do want he was elected to do..

Sorry, not tonight...
Who dealt this mess?

Lunar cycles are no analysis. The Sunbathing Council is countertherapy.

Love your synchronized neighbors. Ghost writing their ideology is pure brinksmanship in disordering consensus and political distance. We’re all redistributionists, symbolically living to do it over. Politics is anger, useless bruising rhetoric. And capital is conceptually gross, always.
We cross the road tonight.. Join the revolution of the ex-well-off (at least ex-feeling it) slicing icons up for our very first media slumber & shower free for the asking for those visual enough to tell us about their recent postal experience.
You’re kissing me into the future, leaving
Circle-K muzak across the battered carapace..

Really, we get down to heaven
In that bucket? I can’t see the bridge

Nor the smoking outline that subdues us
For your birthday.
’Recursive perception‘
For your high time (and mine, too) I came straight from the agency hoisting a broad brush, this text’s agility welding the dirty space into which I wrote “Potential as Pretext in Recursive Perception and Action,” not in part ambiguously, in pastels.

Blizzard tomorrow.
Passion has its instigators, followers, onlookers. Which is which? How about going bonkers as an emergent lyrical property rather than following algorithms? What if, when a strange poem and appreciation of it turn up together, blanket antagonism and doubt about a future of poetry nosedive? Underscore a future, not the only one. As with any doubling of force everything seems to follow a silent samurai-like strategy: poem and commentary cohere wickedly, coolly, and it all seems thoroughly justified according to a new order.


Your kid sister
The invention of worship is over.
A wall of calm is put up.
“A week of such weather” an authentic first language and natural quests are forcibly asserted.

Cultural obligations shape who we are during a late phase of withdrawal from a deadlock in eerie nuance, given future attributes.


You’re exempted from outdoors, Mme Crocodile — I guess I’m wounded.
Mme is exempted from showing up to enchain, knife, subdue..
That’s before I reverse your captivity,

playing inside, giving away what we’re good at
— the struggle, never tears.
Reed replied fiber. I thought about it.

When I came in I shied away from giving out the room temperature. What the hell, I pledged you abstracts, a wholly hidden idiom of stagings and renderings, the creamy highlighting of passages and lucid systems out-of-focus, a lovely coffee table-sized read.

The cracks should be bridged with glass fiber.

“Absolutely,” Continuity Design Adjunct Reed repeated.
145: A fiend’s tongue taught me to greet then end each day with nothing woeful, nothing sweet —

Once I don’t hate you 
I find mercy to renew argument and make song.

For your sake, I hate hate.
I see chidingly day follows night...  your lips’ gentle breathing, a languished state yet explosive.

But today I saw your hand in my life ... a great doomed sound altered, flown away.. I’m totally saved, from heaven to hell, flown straight to your heart, Jezebel, never to hate, “not you.”
Outdoors a muted roll call was gathering under bright archways,
A hazard to paper aircraft taking off.

Um sure I guess.. Don’t know why we are in this automatic summation now or a few seconds from now after the transaction but before thinking about it, looking it over, with only a few elements incised to form solid bands reprieving vice versa.
Rationed compliments ensue secretly,
Honest accounting disappears like functions of context (text frame procedures) —
Physicalism (neural meditation) adapts to amoral schemes
— Travel well.
My cohort flock to benefits. It’s in the evolution of avarice, loose ends everywhere giving wind sheer the opportunity. Looseness keeps younger bodies moving forward. And that goes for the sun shining with its belle-lettrist metamorphosis in the street, damning grown-ups.


A winning session for crude —
I left you off unleashed, extricated in time.
One says. You moved on impulsively. No,
You’re still in danger within all the same venues,
Pshaw, smooth talk hidden, never to disappear.
Like my brothers agog before a generic mime
You look transparent and pink and good at sports.. not that good.
These issues aside are not a specific program.

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

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

Seconds later we were unsure where you and I ‘stood’ vis a vis
tastes charged, an invisible metal...
Ok an explosion directed five, six shots down my throat, you in back..
80: ...cross-pollination of English and psychology is providing a revitalizing lift. I’ll assume you suspect I faint when I write this. Empiricists use it and map it into the literature. When I write of you, I’m in worthless sympathy, humbled, made tongue tied while I try a couple of poses — ha — there are great, pure benefits spent by proud, broad-shouldered sailors afloat, grasping for governance, ocean wide! Wouldn’t you know they’re in an infinite series within the history of fame and gossip. (Or from another angle they are the series, wracked by history.) You who.
An awful virus.
Discourse as privilege dies.
Came from outer space; was well radicalized before it got here.

Freer speech in every direction — your known inclination
for walking strong will accelerate, wild yet tranquil,
ruthless in a sense, the boundless layers set in funereal trance
tweeting under the bust of the rhetor, a civil, democratic ideal.

But no one tweeting wants to get ‘under..an ideal.’ Freedom is personal

As we think like animals brushing up on ideas...
A great surmise centers on net worth while scorekeepers are holding data that prospect on appearances, look it up. Look up at square blocks with a pinch of stairs, nice stairs. Nice worth.
Everything we note here is integrated, also resonating up to a net where you can charge fees along any horizon that’s magnified until it’s askew.

I didn’t go there. Twice.
You’re too preppy to do anything more remarkable. You can’t take on Schubert who had blond thinning hair and wore rimless glasses. He looked
Russo-Siberian, no concupiscence nor comeuppance. Optometrists emanate this consensus, mistaking eye fluid for calm. Yup, a few drink it up.