There are a 100 butterflies in what’s wrong watching even one

                    or two spin like mediums, happy in the dirt, re-engineering their variety and persistence.

We build something better.

One can feel it drinking coffee from the can, its sticky metal heat, fun, seething too, proportionate to the open space.

The smoke is rubbed, worn and you’re mortified with ozone.

The whole firebox glow yellow wallpaper engages on.

The collapse of saying it better is.. no, the aim changed, functions bounce.

Pretty please Frank.
I’m trying to fit this, except not my foolishness.

A cannibal loves riding in your convertible and holding you
Even though you can’t concentrate. We’re in a place, well
A place we’ve never been before. Your convertible.

What’s
Wrong w/ me? May I introduce you? Who
You reading these days? I love food &
Haven’t had some or any for a while.

*

A few lines to say the tenth place shows no skin. One thought waded out above our welcome

Working against deadline, ordered to bring you along, worded
Forcibly, surrounded by eerie patrimony for future attributes.

Here’s how.

To each her or his own ad hoc Laius along w/ Oedipus pouring gooey home brews
That reach their goal! Dad is an illusion in movement for a future pour.
Future as in law and order genetics. QED.

Except it

Depends — an authentic adult language, including dance, charades, mores are raised —
Bullets and lists shape one phase,
A look back over who we are after we agree

No to Bat Masterson & Hamlet,

Pedagogic non being, lonely contexts & Goethe’s juvenilia.
No good instincts, no ephemerality, no hidden rounds
Or inflexible spite.

I’m saying no, not the 1st : no to virulent, callow graphemes, no stance cover &
I dislike nothing fabricates its essence — otherwise normal project managers, blank
In clown work outfits at the top of their game, which is synchronized, written over with highlights..

I’m not sure it’s inclusive or scrambled enough if we differentiate among them, & besides, why
Be preoccupied w/ uniform peculiarities?

No Hopi’s highest peak.

Nobody has to pour your Kix. I see what no means.
A rotten persistence. No to that test too.

To a lark,

Just like torsion in third-level calc,
we come up with obliqueness about achieving access to felt

Authority. It’s far if you can’t say why.

Let’s be brusque. The new job title un-urgent. Everything is ahead of an orb
of something else via motives & you’re evenhanded getting back here;

Yes / No thunder?

Or / & like crustaceans you give in to forgetfulness.

Blinds drawn, your prefixed, scavenged opacity filling with sangfroid riches of dark matter,

Soaking them with homiletic pedigrees.
Before that yoga was fantastic, advanced yoga for always beginners,
a civilizing process added to eternal dimension categories, entered into by you.

It offers libations from within & supports you from under.

Speaking of the pure land, you have none. You swim in it.

What if I am a drifter returning with this season of enthusiasms, could you still ‘like’ me, could you choose ‘I liked it except for you?’

This art sends me.
There are men who look that one way. I voted for change.
Injecting their blood is just crazy but I won’t go off schedule.

Cliché inflects neckline flasks.
It’s essay to forget this mess when we mask the semantics of how often Prokofiev is mentioned,
disproportionate to the vacant bits transcending that of meaning itself.



Take it so, cosmonaut.