Sunday, October 16, 2016


observances, and absorptions, our
intuited entrée: ever so maximum,
and the remonstrated remembrances
that coil tightly in time's fists
as it beats you over the head-- a

compleat obligation to reverse in
midways, the bulletin-point with-
drawal that's undeniably a state-
ment.. this is what i'd hand into
my editor if i wanted her to com-

mit me to an asylum-- otherwisely
duplex characterisation of stars'
own peace: first the nodding, be-
calmed strum, and lately the well
poised turn of phrase, delivered;

warm and enveloping, like a comb-
filtered chatterbox, listening to
itself grow into a real boy, or a
real girl.. an insouciant present
that lags a little behind him/her

in dismantling the legactical in-
fluence punching us in the muscle
and expecting you to flinch-- you
know, if there isn't anything mu-
sical to sing about, and if there

isn't anything literary enough to
write about, it's okay: it's okay
to fall prey to the womb's subtle
wisdom, though it's a bit riskier
than i'd attempt to stay forever.

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