Tuesday, June 28, 2016


summering winter whose hair hang-
eth long and languorous, may thy-
self ever be delivered from cross
criticism and imperfections of my
own that hinder your equality-- a

not i, otherwise that strums me i
not a, steal more gifts and great
lord, this is merely a prayer.. o
unskilful in word, meager in deed
and megan and dylan, i confess to

myself the crimes that i couldn't
offer to anyone: words, rhythms &
palms that are not stigmatic, yet
nonetheless suffer stigma, and we
thank you alway alliterationally;

i crave the awesome power and the
concomitant demonstration.. whose
else is there really to speak? of
simplicities liven attentively, i
need another set of vowels to va-

cate my soul of sitting silent in
the midst of reinjouissance: king
of kings, lord of lords-- i want-
ed to negate my choices inversely
refusing to choose, but would not

presently fail to bleed, and true
is the saying that not the hearer
of the word only is justified but
the doer of it, magmatic formulae
and tremoloes that flower fourth.

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