Provincetown: Trained staff encourage sampling
as Lt Benji takes fingerprints, a full-time hobby
for Meister beach boy put in charge after age 30.

No evidence yet (or ever). The night is young.

Damn, can’t complain, when our children
left we had chipmunk..

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

Hold on /
dress up or not?

A siesta had no idea, no credo of here and now
when everything was the right answer —

More measures distorted your frame —
We never quite catch up

Climbing into casual spectacle dozing, ritually putting
our lives together, keeping the drift ..

1. I use bigger words than you,
The spring flowers, the moon in autumn —
Classification by evolutionary collisions.

I think I prefer staying all-purpose, best calm, never resolved.

2. Bad news, I was
struck by the French property owner. You know,
plagiarism in quotes.
It’s cold indirection,
but my metabolism really took off, along
with emotions from a huge manuscript
I’m freezing,

‘quote’ Watching text spin like sentience
refined by distance; since
it’s none of the above, this could be for you now.

Going halfsies? Anything Apollonian looks flab prone. It’s ok they’re attentive for now.
Capacious anxiety, o yup, refusal to arbitrate glamour, okay... we’re done (lol) ..

In my half you can break laws to shoulder perfection or save a life, once or
Either way is fractional in the context / e.r.

In the crazy wild apothecary we call all infinite sets
a rolling surveillance unwraps many a polycarbonate scent.

Freedom is personal. There’s more solid drama down the hall,
a binary fission when you’re expecting one meta-interaction at a time.

Sonnets are ok, the great way —
Let’s get through
this ostentatious luncheon in pensiveness.
Your fly is open.
Lab animal overboard!

Freaked by what gondolier words
meant and do, you’re under whose
thumb? Handsome, on the other hand
your imperfect mind is a floating
weapon. That’s why this or any sentence
is relinquished of polarities.
And blood concentricities are traps..

A throbbing red color blue, bright, digestable. Just coincided.
Can you clarify luncheon? For what party in sleep?

The vision comes spontaneously

— never forward your resume
or IQ to a date.

Captain the thought
then opt for a safety
school. Push shyness aside,
spiff up & sign all smog-
watching affirmations.
Regulate an embrace multi-nationally.
Es geshah am helichten Tag —
Never feel sorry for the diva
who has her brains and eats
them. Never disagree
with inferiors. Never. Do
not accuse sperm donors
of throwing their rumcake out
with the bathwater —
Never point to questions
about meaning what is not said
or saying what is not meant.

The soul is a hypothesis, a sweet flying
fish out of water surfing over interstates
to destroy itself.

We begged it to go faster and keep at it,
stick with a sublime subject or object, rally
for more than shimmering in a mega-lens.

If you can wake it up you should.

Re: rock .. I’m finished w/ modern jailhouse
written for stern re-inventors
hitting all their free hi notes
disrespecting the news, that is, their whereabouts
(they don’t study themselves) ...

That’s why sadness is strong —
the real overhead? The jail
is my guardian until I can’t stop
fixing the straps I tore
for you.

the Trump brand in poetics = unoriginal genius

Ann Coulter = Marjorie Perloff

Sitting down delivers the good news, stateliness already had its faint say. Now we can text and drive over time and zeta functions falling in hedgerows like a new highway divider along an infinite axis.

Trixie is the name for the dejected. With regard to static and its ovoid, stasis, in the compulsive battle over an ultimate smiley face, it’s not just who guffawed fast, but who took off with awesome ideas about words.

How can Trix (a lot better) hear the extreme difficulty in separating external compulsion from the experience of desire

Through the door on top of the word?

Trix leaves for finishing school. She’s wearing khakis and a red T-shirt and my new backpack stuffed with graphs. She wants more than a group-regulated ethos for the manufacture of comedy and verse.

The archives are at risk.

Writing in a voice for a glass room that rings of convoluted propaganda, in paint.

With paint I am 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).
Welcome to the Pee Wee loop at Plaza Hut. A border twin ‘nails it.’ A great deal of platinum blonding. Corrosion of smooth form can be magic.

Shoo-ut, I’ve been put on a 20-year watch list. Again.
Good I’m a neo-accepter of making and being particles of misnomers. Eating and breathing them too.

Ghosts roam with the panicked. (All of them.) It’s like a last dance to respect what you guys were doing — you were working on it.

There’s hustle to market, along with rips in the cargo of space/time whose vessels burgeon on ennobling, blobby warmth, piped in like Berlioz, accompanied by addictions to risk. Come here often?

Hands and fingers wrap around each other.

He seduces clients.

More than a person, he’s nice ..
A human form that meets service goals.


The candidate as brand, we don’t have a choice.

I was nursed from the beginning. "I need me." It’s a lovely tirade. (Jack Spicer)

*

That’s good, because I sneaked across those gimme-erotic catalysts. (I don’t remember whose or how.)

I’ll subsist in attrition finding and picking up purviews — a shore in maneuvers pitched way up like mores with infectious provisios, integers-to-be and no buzz to fix.

A wave beats my eyes open when I (am or) was looking ragged but in a studied, not irresponsible way, reading and taking dictation to wrap up sleep.

House airline: The prosecution collapsed
But you hand over your sack of warrants.

Your evaluations are in. Jumbo on

Justice, liberty, rule of law...

Time to concentrate on that killer c.v.
It’s about warrants for words, Mate. Future thickets.

It’s so much satori — Enablers will cooperate fully.
For you, a love interest gets 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

Re-examining my savagery…
doing what Pessoa said,


If you admit you enjoy tricky intersections you’ll be taking sides. I told them at calisthenics I’d prefer not to watch from the grandstand and de-harvest illusions of atmospheric slop. But doing it I missed what happens. Walking away burns more calories. Better to get a friend or two to write for you, pretending they are you, falling mute, covering your lips with my gloved thumb.

The tallest paintings remeasure your height.



Painting ideas.



You had heard maggots eat über-paintings stretched onto canvases of different sizes, gloomy jigsaws, severed threads, sticky placards in paint that’s wasted, emaciated planes, junk and emptiness.



Painting double quotes.

No appointments today. Triumph** is creepy*.


*Creepy widely construed as inaudible tendencies toward plundering contexts to alter the body’s asymmetrical neuropsychology. 



**Triumph, group or personal, can be unscrewed during Q & A’s. How does triumph threaten a referent? when going straight to the point? Was ist das?
I’m asking out loud for one reason only, so the receiver will sound an alarm (an annunciator light).



Merely of course sounded.

Rush to earnest sentiment and keep me there, do me up.
Only four exceptions: I wasn’t speaking to you.
I was speaking to strong, sustained interests of Oil Inc.
Oh, and incidentally, I can’t keep working with you
Looking over my shoulder. Don’t be afraid,
I just kick back and relax, the year will be half over.
Summer .. if I could let myself be completely a trace.

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

Making up a to do list! blinded by periodic breakthroughs,
A pragmatics circumvents the will —
The focus is on nothing we won’t do..

Tv interview:
The enigmatic eaten alive by song layouts,
Burying the syllogism for life.
The Meaning of the Bright Side Sketch.*


*The strategy goes on because it’s clear.

It’s highly readable to a point.
The 13th century dealt supremacists,
The morning, day never end;
Our participation per chance — an 18th century
Add-on, Earthbound generality swallowed / over cooked

.. fond farts a good deal beyond words turn into toasty spoors — tant pis, hardly
These data waving in rocks of sunlight, gaunt & obese
Blowing cold.

One cause is edged with distant buzzing, intervention — you have a touch
the tide by the book makes explicit, the rim and pliant brush of acreage possessed by that touch.

The practice of emotions, a snake tail in quiet we won’t know until eased into a few phrases, foiled by
moments of tact, a delicate balance awaiting silence.

Unable to help you play a single practical joke, I hadn’t spoken to you for months, having found direction and refinement in the background of a construction zone perforated by mirrors, swindles, procedural lunges toward more pranks. I said I had had it.

And I had. And something else..



The 10,000 mistakes by that boy who won’t correlate the enormity of it all as evolutionists run back to hear more about causality —


Yet the context’s unlocked, to no ideology hewn. I’m

Eve, a financial planner ahead of my time.
I’m still not finished, she says.
We can spot them both as atheoretical elaborators, since they spoke first.

Hypoxia, poor make us sick, The.

The elevated prose idea of August
helps you get through life wellness rooms
circling a moratorium on consumption —
help yourself — June thru July.

What I do as a human is take an ordinary subject, senior-itis,
let’s say, or a lamppost, and by urinating on it, over it, I ..



(The ache of summer for a senior is palpable — snorts
of derision dampen my naïve representation of democracy.)

Here’s how I hitchhike. I come across an organizing principle and pull the trigger, replacing
subject matter with source text, exploring only the musts: structure, acquisition, use, media —
no eros in ideas.

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.

The class clown gets elected treasurer. He enters business.

One wishes they both looked good.

I’m backing Mr Trump.

I just unfriended the not-to-confuse option. Thanks for the potluck. Your
hair is what's wrong. Give it over.

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.

This introduces the cult of the squish factor. My
Luggage did this to me.

Blurb:

You bet monkish materiality does not exist. No dissonance,
no disruption! There are
appearances, such as a vantage baseline and shopping boundaries.

The book covers a lot.
An interesting interview had to be done in depth,
‘staff may be prosecuted,’ toughing this one out.

Still, there’s no lack of linnets and authentic wax.

“Devils were seductive, motivating me to seek their darkness,
Pick up the guitar and write more songs,”
Talking Chimp squealed like a talking dog.

Lean, fluid, sleek and balanced, clipped close,
His daredevil is fallen into a state of confusion & loneliness
— just to feel a cloud pattern about being no one.

In my illusion

of minimalism
I scored my first wormhole on schedule. The entity, no,
I should say the accretion settled down
And got lost and scattered trying to remember.

Leaving the June beach

— dazzling lethargy undoing our cuffs as the wagon sways
with fellowship. Love in the future, a handshake spreads the rain,

flowers, rain,

flowers.

(That's it!

The moat-house for the wagon then some new wagon shirts we
can walk on with. A mighty wine origami and the wagon yard for our widows.

This is spring history.)

I oppose opposing.
Stevensesque or Stevensian? 100 years on
Stevens lets go in voices of color —

So? Closer to us, gazing after us in hell
We pass ephemera of allegory
.. that was closer — vs finding you

The ideal of ideal itself, or more
Like Constable, ex-halo & a whiff of depth
Every storm cloud has. I will be I — heh

— I
Will look for you / I
Will serve with you in hell & heaven.

Letting go stacks up then our named
Names on a grid of silence, folk art
Of ones we knew.

To defend prostitution in a round, I choose multiple-lease
Supports and functions. I understand
Abstract intricacy
When it’s ready.

My name is not important.
I write on the road,

Don’t like accordion folds encroaching
On my notes —
I’m compressing a complete
Meltdown. There / -in

Buddha tells me I’m a baby.
All the best students begin this way, gesso-ed
Pencil marks across rad lad
Pearls, slim trance police

Axed into life. (I’m not sure anyone would
Sell you any.) / Big, jaunty shapes, thin hair —
Once I was moving I thought less

— dreams, planets, back light spread thin, float-drawn, there we are!

Production through retrieval and communal ethos are distinctive features to collectivism of the medieval era. It’s not unironic in the least digital data assembly enables our return to those kinds of production and ethos. Work produced now is parallel along incalculable dimensions. And if most of that work is still authored, we can posit the mushrooming of art production (including poetry) over a relative short time will totalize individual product into a kind of arguably 2nd-tier relevance (with a few nonconceptual exceptions, of course).

BF Skinner watches a boy develop — to spy on sleep when you can’t dream..

parking spaces have a word with you. Children are the future —
keep them distracted.
And
if you lock your room you can’t get anywhere. Ask Caligari. Bright blues in white, a looming sluice through the discomfort zone. Here we go, head din, bones saturated watching out for huge snowy droves. I feel absurd in his hold still shining through milk-white conditioning. The dirty side of blind scar tissue:

I dress left; way left, Mr. Oracle.

I don’t deserve friends like you.

Note to sender.
*
Before I turn into another parabola of you, yours, I should take myself out and stay out, crabbed, hesitant to set off emotion that might fail. There’re signs you just want to cry — and it’s not a bad smell, just sad or a slight wift in dimness when I wake up. It all goes well. You and I take off, tho. One by one. Reasons are weather related, paleness this morning and a similar wash of fog coming back, lilac-dark air and offshore atmospheres yesterday, the day before. Winds changed and I barely pertain, and why should I? It would be contradictory and limitlessly impolite to insist we’ve won in a runoff of longing and gratitude. That you and I are taking time to sift through (even the slightest) parts here would be a datum of coincident poses. I cherish your transitioning to mine, bringing it up to me every day yet I can’t presume what we can’t express, foundering and tongue-tied, handing our fortune over to the 1st letters of the alphabet. You want back in — me too. Keep in touch.

nearness

Lamentation: Prose enters a poem. It has a work permit. That’s why
The place has been wiped clean of unforced errors.

The poem essay invests in spontaneity gleaned from what icons blur;
Bourgeois think war unjust when there’s no one to wage it. Hey



There are no middle class essayists. Yet, we can rubber any room —

My advice for exploring ideas, stick to the sentence.

To go along continue needing riches.
Thanks for writing.

It’s up to future officials to unpack Zen’s base ironies. Where are they, let’s see... I’m not picking up any .. acoustics. Where I am, they don’t hook up to

get supplies flowing out since they

make love too much — so and because every irony wants to stay on a comfort-slope, to live well too, staying relaxed can lull you into a slippery tranquility.

That’s Zen-not-Zen up to now.

Go, go, go!
Oh, my God. This twistee’s blind as a bat.
Doctor, what a surprise. Are you having lunch here?
Well, I would if it’s that simple.
I wish it were that simple.
— The test results have come back — And?
And I’m afraid the results are very disturbing.
It seems Jack has a rare case...
of brake fluid.
— Bran fluid. Bran flavor —
Brain fever — Say it!
Brain fever — Yes. Life was hard..
Brain fever. Or what we call at The Tech...
At the current rate ...
his brain will laterally explore...
Literally explode — Exactly.
— Within the next three houses — Hours.
Yes. It will literally explode within the next three hours.
I would suggest leaving the restraint.
— The restaurant — Restaurant.
Yes.
His brain will actually explode?
Yes. I’ve seen it happen — Check!
It’s a dread ful...
thing.

Welcome back.
I don’t want any more lying.

No pretending...
no deception.

And I need time.
— Can you understand? — Completely.

Wait! Wait!
I’m carrying your child.

I didn’t sleep with you!
But please, pwease bewieve me!

This is what strong, trusting meant.
— I told you — Well, I’m apologizing.

Congratulations.
Thank you —

— I haven't slept a wink — Try sleeping pills.

Yeah. Well, that’s a good idea.

I know I’ve been deceitful, but I had my reasons.

Maybe they were dumb reasons, but they were reasons.

I never said I was the best man in the world.

Give me a little credit, will you, credit for being someone...

who tried to love you the only way he knew how.

I know that speech

— You do? — the show last August...

when Devon meets Bolt’s empyrean nephew.

Oh, God.

— Get out — Please try to understand.

— No need to use that language.

Get out! Now!

The sleepless love me. It’s phenomenal. This is a nightmare.

You promised me you would get rid of negation!

We were both naked, and you promised

— Naked! — we were never naked.

We could’ve been! Mother. No.

*

book list = cast figures

tribal identity = subjective state

the underground = trance

career trajectory = finding America

Denis the Menace grew up over last summer. I now have a boyfriend. We’re in love, we’re out of it, we’re trying to run each other over, so it continues. I’m first and last bored with superordination and thought about having no chapter delineations, just paragraph breaks.

*

I’ve lots of parts going in, a series of vignettes, monologues, whatever comes w/ writer’s block undiagnosed. An intersection of an un-demarcated self, motion in patterns, math as therapy and fear of validation. And another thing is a screenplay called Standing Alone, My Back to You about a homeless guitar sampler befriended by a yachtsman who hides from the world. They head off exploring Taoism so there’s a lot of take-out food. For a documentary short it's a bracing swim. The guys bond fast and the plot revolves around eating, watching tv, taking long walks, suffering — all of which figure in my earlier career, another pattern I didn’t even realize!

The transmission ran,You owe us a letter, smilin’ Jack..

One awaits silence, its light a sole unity, best

on earth now, and many times over

the course of orchards thru lattice

tracing down-draughts helplessly at ease,

separate pieces ignited with fog —



In short, mid-super

memorized treetops

plumbing calm fields

of mind-boggling quiet,

stronger now for loss of plant life.

Frogs are still up to voodoo [l'occulte français] —

At the edge, distance, entrenched applause.

You DID write, dearest.

Overdrafts — bankrupt —

                    inmost, the

selfmade part of the soul

postcarding the mountains

                    unfinished you
plain as nebulae

— I thought of you today

the middle of a square

expression you could address

O Jesus

A severe honey glow

crowning his shoulders — groomed

disgust in his walk, his mystic theater

perhaps addressing us, the radiant

pull at his mom’s sleeve

emptied of the given moment

                   The emptiness that was

one fine day...

                   A mercury-brimmed scree

insubstantial in the unexpectedness

to dawn ‘disappeared’

into the leg o’mutton of oblivion :

You behind the seen evaporating..

— we owe you nothing

                   falling out w/
your idea of daylight and sexual theater on the same sheer precipice..

every day becoming ordinary knowledge

of parallel ebullience

                   waiting to come to round up
stuff sprouting from half-sleep,

steadfast in geometry to grant horizon the horizon, the whole body.

Beneath poplars booked in pairs, attaining
Adulthood by field, stream thru summer,
Phone calls made by a folded blanket,
Trench turmoil, do you want to bet?
Hard for them, much more flying our likenesses in,
Braving white, soft green, a sickening thud.



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
Sparkles of glad diatribe, to pay your way
Forward, a debit resonance after returning —

We’re nothing their voices bell without words.

Make a difference, make an offer.

Baby Wateau —

The empty sale is falling and I’m on the move (or we are). Early or late, the sky’s not falling as point of fact. I’m flowing like a dancer / stripper in a spiral. Another point in fact, harder to verify. Gravationally, Picasso’s greatest came early, Cezanne’s late. These data still matter, in a manner — I’ve found someone else, deeper in, a thinly veiled version of me.

The flow is hard to describe — a man, a higher up, goes blind. Perfect for the fall. My baby traps me.

Siddhartha heard quadratic conditions in the smasher anthem
area, spoke an argot cuttingly woodland. 100 years Marxian

yet morphine-ghosted by indecent
getaways & then — second — boutiques
of collared hospitality where orthodox

banter will calm Kant’s havoc. Third, his drive is spli-
ced as over a magnum while service & art precincts
sidled up the hill from the harbor. Classic top looks

rig their sawtooth nakedness mauling the stubble
headland askew sundry wharves... so

doing problem sets here with a hen of steam; the verdict
is a trifle beyond Krishna’s preproduction
pouring kerosene to kindle tomography
for having brooked Toscanini’s kind.